Book Review: The Favorite Daughter by Patti Callahan Henry, 2019

I have really looked forward to reading this book by one of my fave authors, Patti Callahan Henry.  I loved her “Becoming Mrs. Lewis” as well as her other romantic, women’s fiction. This book was written before her huge breakout, “Mrs. Lewis,” a stellar book that surprised me with it’s clear and often poignant look at the life of a real, often-maligned, historical woman.  I knew not to expect the intensity and depth of that book, and so I went into this book looking for a story that would pull me into her coastal village vibe, and I wasn’t disappointed.

“TFD” is a love story which to me spoke of the love of family, especially the love between a father and daughter, with all of the nuanced feelings that come with this complicated and often fraught relationship.  In this book, there isn’t much conflict there, which I found refreshing. Instead, there is an undercurrent throughout the book of the main character, Lena, and her mothers’ ties. Her mother is gone, but the feeling that everything was never quite right between them is made clear to the reader in remembrances and in Lena’s very characteristics.  She is known as “A runner,” not in the physical sense, but in her emotional life, so much that when her sister told her she ran away from home once, Lena had forgotten it. Running appeared to be her main (and pretty much only) coping mechanism. She left her hometown of Watersend after a disastrous near-marriage, and has only returned sporadically since then, often “Sneaking” in and out of town.  

Lena’s new life in NYC is suddenly upended when her brother tells her she must come home.  It is a family emergency, a dire one which will certainly involve her estranged sister, and her sister’s family. Their father has been acting out of character, and his eventual diagnosis is not one that leaves him much time to spend with his children and grandchildren.  
This book explores family dynamics and the need for a home, a true place of relaxation and joy. and what it takes to build this place in the emotional sense.  The characters are mostly believable and the feelings they express as they wind through their journeys will easily relate to a female reader’s life. The character of Lena’s brother, “Shane” just misses having enough of a life to feel slightly shallow to me.  A young man who runs a bar, helps to take care of his father, and is the family peacemaker has no discernible flaws, no bad habits, and seemingly few of his own feelings about what is happening. He is like the family saint, but even saints have cracks. I would have liked to have read about them.  
For fans of Patti like me, this book is a send-back to the days before “Mrs. Lewis,” I especially enjoyed the small “Easter eggs” in the book that refer to places and people of the town from a previous book.
The story is an escape into issues that, like a two-hour Lifetime movie, you know will be resolved at the end in a satisfactory way.  It would make a great TV movie! I’m just saying it because it’s true. Calling Ms. Witherspoon!

Sweet story!

Book Review: Woman last seen in her Thirties by Camille Pagan (And a few side notes about the movie “Gloria Bell”)

2018, 246 pages

It struck me today after I watched the movie “Gloria Bell” starring Julieanne Moore that this book and the movie have similar heroines, both women in their mid-fifties facing life without the husbands they once relied upon. Gloria is much more in-your-face than Maggie of the book, but they both struggle with what it means to be a woman of “A certain age” with needs and desires, both portrayed as young (ish) and attractive, yet certain parts of their psyche remain damaged and afraid to foray into love, lust, and the whole damned man-thing again.

Maggie is despondent and unable to believe that her husband is really gone until she shakes herself out of her funk by making the decision to take a trip planned for two by herself. Her trip is fortuitous in many ways, and I liked that Ms. Pagan didn’t tie Maggie up in a foreign-so-impossible love affair for the rest of the book. The trip is a catalyst for Maggie to begin to step out of her box a little more when she returns home. Unlike Gloria, (of the aforementioned movie) she doesn’t step too far out of line. However, like Gloria, she is a mother who has a deep and abiding affection for her grown progeny, and the relationships are one of the steadying factors in the lives of both women. Both know who they are and what they stand for, but each have an adventurous side that becomes apparent pretty quickly. (And neither have screwed-up kids, which is refreshing.)

Maggie is a fully-formed character, sketched with a deft hand by Ms. Pagan. I would not have minded at all if she had a few more quirks, just to show and not tell the reader that she is a real person facing real issues in her life. She is a character I can relate to, and I like that the author moves her along in her journey through despair to a hopeful future. There is not much melodrama here, Gloria could show Maggie a thing or two about character flaws! However, the overall feeling I got from the book was warm and sweet, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. Yes, this review is mainly about the book (So if you love women’s fiction / romance, read it) and just in case you didn’t guess already, I loved “Gloria Bell.” If you love flawsome (Flawed and awesome) women characters, you will really dig this movie!

Good for romance/ women’s fiction aficionados 3.5/4

Book Review: The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls by Anissa Gray

This book had me hooked from the first line;  “You do a lot of thinking in jail.” I think Ms. Gray has a winner here, a book that is both deep and resonant, its characters both surprising, and flawed.  I enjoy books that capture the attention of the reader not with a sledge hammer, but rather a siren song that pulls you in with nuance. The beauty of these characters lies in their utter imperfection, a couple with a restaurant and a place in the community, but also with a shared secret that could either destroy or redeem them, a professional counselor who hides her own shame in a deep addiction, a sister with a secret shame of her own, and children doing their best to grow and learn with absent parents.  

 The inter-generational theme of different kinds of absences is prevalent in the story.  Children lose a beloved parent and their Reverend father travels to save other souls while his children rely on the kindness of parishioners to feed and clothe them.  A mother is absent in her very presence, unable to break through her own walls to reach out to her own daughter.

 Family is the thread that is woven and broken, tied together in redemption, and cut in the name of selfhood and the breaking of patterns of shame and secrecy. Unfolding the story of Althea and Proctor necessitates telling the tale of how she became the unwitting matriarch of her family at a young age, and how this affected her sisters, Lillian and Viola, and brother, Joe.

 Ms. Gray captures the way we hurt the ones we love, and the strength that can come from trying to face the messes we make with honesty and an open heart.

This is a uniquely American story with the power to outlive our times.  I would love to see Angela Basset cast as Althea in the movie that is sure to come out of this book. (Fingers crossed!)     

I proudly give this book 4 Stars! Bookish and Proud

Book Review: Almost Everything, Notes On Hope By Anne Lamott

2019, 189 pages

Almost Everything : Notes on Hope  is pure Anne Lamott: Honest, funny, and endearing with an edgy bend toward The Divine.  At a new stage in her life, excited for her upcoming marriage and firmly ensconced in happy grandmother-hood, Anne is still her optimistic and slightly sarcastic self.  Thank God! I love Anne because of her ability to find the tiny light of hope in a miasma of pain and uncertainty, the practical, pull-your-sleeves-up-and-get-ready faith that never fails to make me feel like loving God is as natural and attainable as washing my face.  

 In chapter five, “Don’t let them get you to hate them,” Anne writes:’Something that helps is to look at adversaries as people who are helping you do a kind of emotional weight training. Nautilus for your character.  They may have been assigned to you, to annoy or exhaust you. They are actually caseworkers.” Getting us to look at even hate from another angle is just one way Ms. Lamott can take the daunting task of living and break it down into manageable steps, changing the perspective so we are able to view our life through a new lens.  

 As a recovering addict, a mother and a grandmother, a nature-lover and person that has had issues with food, faith, and love, Ms. Lamott gives a fresh perspective because of everything she has been through, not in spite of it.  Like all of her non-fiction, this book is stitched together with love and the unshakeable faith that who we are and what we do matters, that picking up trash in your neighborhood and being nice to yourself leads to a better day, and perhaps a better world.  It all seems doable and uncomplicated, and this very simplicity is the essence of what Ms. Lamott does an excellent job of conveying. Everything matters, she seems to say. But not too much. We are all so important, but so is everybody else. And there is nothing we can do to “Stop God from adoring us.” What a powerful note on hope.   

I proudly give this book 4/4 Stars

Book Review: Extinctions by Josephine Wilson

2015, 349 pages

Fredrick Lothian is a professor that has many secrets lurking under the surface of his bland exterior life. A recent widower, he makes the decision to leave his family home and sequester himself at an old-folks home that he loathes. His days are spent observing his neighbor’s, the next door woman with the loud (and not strictly legal) screeching birds, and the man he watches on his walker, the only person at the home with whom he has a nodding acquaintance. He avoids the dining room, the phone, and the truth with equal alacrity until an accident he observed and didn’t intervene with changes both his life, and his observations.

This book vaguely reminds me of other novels about men that have such a sense of superiority that the reader just knows there is a huge amount of guilt and / or inferiority that will be revealed. Ms. Wilson writes with the emotional restraint of Richard Ford, and Fredrick’s point of view hits as masculine and emotionally caged. Like Mr. Ford, she presents a protagonist that is hard to feel sorry for, until the scales are dropped from our eyes and we are able to see the pain and feel the suffering that has led to this closed-off life.

Towards the end of the book, I was glad for the reprieve offered by the character of Fredrick’s daughter, Caroline. She has spent her life in her adopted family feeling different and out of place, and her eventual search and reunion adds a nice touch to the story. It became clear to me that Fredrick had so much love for Caroline, as well as his son, who doesn’t get to speak and yet is a pivotal character in the book. The fact that the story takes place in Australia added a little something for me, however, the story could have been set anywhere, and the sense of place was only evident to me during Caroline’s’ passages.

Caroline is very academically interested and involved with extinctions, and extinctions in general are a theme in the book, including several black-and-white photographs that at first appear to have no relation to the story. The reader is left to interpret what they are doing in the book, and there is a detailed explanation of the photos (but not their meaning) in the appendix. As you may have surmised, this is an unusual book!

As all good novels leave us filled with hope, or at least a sense of impending hope, this book is no exception. Jan, Fredrick’s indomitable, optimistic, and effusive neighbor is the light in his story. It is because of her spirit that it is likely Fredrick will not become another extinction.

This book is well worth reading, especially if one is in the mood for something a little different, with an ending not wrapped up tidily with a big bow. It is one that makes the reader think differently about the plain, older men we pass on the street every day.

I proudly give this book 4/4 Stars. Bookish and Proud

Book Review: The Last Year of the War by Susan Meissner

2019, 386 pages

The last year of the war  is a total diversion from the current times.  Set in the year before the end of WWII, the book draws upon the tensions present in the United States that led to the internment of individuals of both Asian and German descent and their American children in “camps.” This is the story of two of those families, one Japanese, and one German.  Elise Sontag was a natural American citizen being raised in Iowa by her German immigrant parents, The little town didn’t protect her from all of the normal angst and uncertainty of a typical rural teenager, but war was not something she worried about every day. Yes, there was a war going on, but the bucolic Iowa farm Elise was growing up on seemed to be far away from the reach of the vagaries of  destruction and death being experienced on the other side of the world. One day all of that changed in short order. Her father was accused of being a Nazi sympathizer, and he was arrested and taken away from Elise, her mother, and her brother, Tom, leaving them without the support necessary to keep them in their home. No matter that her parents had taken America into their hearts and minds as the country they were loyal to, no matter that their children were born and raised in the United States.  The country they had grown to love betrayed them, they were treated as outcasts in the only town the children knew.

 Just when Elise was unsure that her fragile mother could bear the separation much longer, the family had a reunification plan.  Sent to Crystal City, Texas to live with her father, Elise and her brother join her mother for the long and dismal train ride to the camp.  Although I had never heard about the German-Americans being sent to the camps along with Japanese families,I was quickly absorbed by the story of this family being forced to stay somewhere completely foreign to them, the unrelenting heat being the first hint that they were no longer in Iowa. The camp was set up with very basic necessities of living, including cheap furniture and no walls between the parents and children’s sleeping quarters.  The author does a wonderful job of describing what camp life was like, both positive and negative. One of the positives was that the children were able to attend school, and it is at school that Elise becomes acquainted with a Japanese girl from California, Mariko Inhoue. The Sontag and Inhoue families become more familiar with each other, however the friendship between the two girls, immediate and lasting, becomes the focus of Elise’s time at the camp.  This book seemed almost like a love story, the kismet between the girls is so strong, and by the time the book was over, I knew this was exactly what it was. The love the two girls had for each other was deep and strong, the connection of soul mates meant to be in one another’s lives, not in a filial way, but in a deep and abiding friendship. Also like a love story, the girls make plans for the future which does not go exactly the way they plan. After only a few letters from Mariko over several years, Elise has to take stock of her life and make adult decisions at a very young age.

 The themes of paranoia, prejudice, and destiny are woven into the book without the words ever being written.  The reader is transported to different settings that make perfect sense within the context of war and the space of having no control over events that shape and define the lives of the two families.  It was heartbreaking to me that the patriarchs of the two families developed very different approaches to both their confinement, and eventual expulsion from the country they chose to call home. Their decisions end up by being the very same despite their differences.  The theme of “Home,” and what home comes to mean to Elise is at the very core of this story, a love story, a story about the heart and the home, which, in the end, may very well be the same thing.

I proudly give this novel 4 / 4 Stars!

Book Review: A Certain Loneliness by Sandra Gail Lambert

2018, 219 pages, Memoir

This poignant book is mesmerizing from the start, when we are introduced to Ms. Lambert as a child who struggles within the confines of her disability to just be a kid. Her voice is strong and unvarnished, straightforward about her own character flaws, and honest about who she is and what she stands for simply by telling her story. Disability is only a part of who she is, but as her condition worsens, she makes sweeping accommodations to her life described in short sentences that serve to underscore the brave and hopeful choices she made to continue to live a life of meaning. The paradox of this unsentimental little book is that the brevity she uses to convey the reality of her life is the very thing that evoked a rush of empathy and understanding from me as a reader. I was astounded by her love of the natural world, and the lengths she would go to in order to camp and kayak as her body became less and less cooperative with her desires to experience the world. As she goes from crutches to her first wheelchair, from owning a bookstore to hand-crafting her own books as her condition changes, we are right there with her, quietly rooting for her to experience a life in full.

The voices of reason that give conflicting opinions about what she should and shouldn’t do are but a background buzz in the book. This amazing woman of substance and intellect sorts through the B.S. and makes her own clear choices. This book may be a masterpiece.

I am proud to give “A Certain Loneliness” five stars. Bookish and Proud

Just about perfect!