Why I Didn't Finish The Girl You Left Behind by Jojo Moyes (Yet)

Let me preface this entire post by saying this: the first part of The Girl You Left Behind is phenomenal. I have fallen entirely into Moyes's war-torn setting, a tiny French town occupied by German soldiers. The characters fairly jump off the page: Sophie Lefevre, narrator and lead heroine, her sister Helene, the children, the other townspeople, Herr Kommandant and the German soldiers. Moyes writes beautifully, a master of the craft leading her readers bit by bit into her created world.

I cared far too deeply for the characters; I think that was the beginning of my being undone by this novel. I should probably also mention here that historical fiction, and in particular war-time novels, are by far my least favorite genre. I'll blame this on my mom: she could never enjoy a war novel or movie. Along with her fear of birds (although we've both come a long way on that one), she passed on to me a lack of ability to read or view fictional accounts of war. The list of things I've abandoned or avoided as a result are long:

• Saving Private Ryan (I walked out of the theater; I later refused to view it in junior year history in high school and took an alternate assignment.)
• The Sandcastle Girls by Christ Bohjalian (He is one of my favorite authors, and this was a wonderfully written book I couldn't continue reading because of the descriptions of the Armenian genocide -- and his newest book is set during World War II, so I most likely won't read it either, although I'm sure The Light in the Ruins is every bit as fantastic as his other work.)
• Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear (I read several of the books in this series before I simply couldn't handle the period of time after WWI when the novels are set.)
• The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers (Despite some of the most glowing reviews out there, I have not been able to force myself to pick up this award-winning book set during the war in Iraq).

The list could probably go on. But you get the idea. Wonderful, award-winning movies and books simply fall off my radar if war is part of the story.

When Moyes wrote characters I loved, and set her novel during a world war, bad things were bound to ensue for them, no? I knew this, yet I hoped against it. A third of the way into the novel, I had to stop reading. Although it was a fantastically-written book, it and I simply did not agree with one another. 

My hope is that someday I can overcome this (somewhat crippling, when it comes to excellent fiction) aversion. Until then, I'll leave the reading of books like The Girl You Left Behind to others. For some glowing reviews from readers who finished Moyes's novel, please click below:

• USA Today
• Entertainment Weekly
• LA Times
• She Reads October Book Club Selection (with 30+ reviews by the She Reads Blogger Network)

And, the author's website:

JojoMoyes.com

Book Review: The Funeral Dress by Susan Gregg Gilmore

If you've read my blog for a while or visited my "About" section, you know that southern literature has my heart. Although much of what I read lately is YA, education-related, mystery series books, or women's fiction for SheReads, southern lit is still near and dear to me. So I jumped at the chance to read Chattanooga author Susan Gregg Gilmore's latest novel The Funeral Dress.

This novel, y'all, is not for the faint of heart. If you can't stand a good, long cry, this isn't the book for you. I tweeted the other day that I had cried my way through the book, and I wasn't kidding. Once you get over the first little bit of hormone-adjustment that comes after having a baby (as I did just over a year ago), the baby's first year of life isn't exactly a time for tears. You simply don't have time for that. So I can't remember the last time I had a good cry -- until this book. It's characters turned me inside out. My baby girl just turned one, and something about this novel and that combination made my heart hurt. In a good way.

The Funeral Dress begins in 1970s Dunlap, Tennessee -- renamed Cullen, Tennessee, for Gilmore's literary purposes. Most of the work than can be found for women in this small valley town is at the Tennewa garment factory, and Emmalee Bullard gets hired on at the tender age of sixteen. She doesn't have any experience sewing, but the lady in the next seat over, Leona Lane, does. For whatever reason, this tough cookie takes Emmalee under her wing, showing her the ropes both at the machine and navigating the waters of Tennewa's complicated social scene.

For the first time in her life, Emmalee has a place that's solely hers. Not her mama's, long dead from an illness her father blames on Emmalee, or her father's, a mean drunk who acts as the king of their tiny, rundown shack. When Emmalee turns up pregnant with a baby of her own after a brief affair with a boy out of her league, she struggles to find a way out of Red Chert holler and away from her father's meanness. Leona offers her a way out, and Emmalee jumps at the chance to escape. However, life hasn't had a history of being easy on Emmalee, and it isn't about to start now.

When Emmalee's one chance out of her father's house and her only chance to give motherhood a real try disappears, she makes a decision that she isn't going to let fate decide what happens to her. Instead, she's going to stand up and make her own destiny.

Emmalee's story touched my heart in many ways -- as a new mother, I identified with her struggle to feed her baby, to heed the baby's cries, to reconcile the end of her previous independence. As the granddaughter of a garment factory worker, I considered my Granny Mullins's back-breaking work at a sewing machine. As a Tennessean living less than an hour from the story's setting, I understood the deep-rooted struggles of the townspeople living in an Appalachian wilderness. It touched me so much, that (in the midst of tears), I almost gave up. It was almost too true a fictional story for me to keep reading. But I did, and you should. The ending is worth all the crying.

Related Links:
Susan Gregg Gilmore's website
Crown Publishing's feature "Susan Gregg Gilmore on Writing The Funeral Dress"
Nashville Scene's book review "Susan Gregg Gilmore's thrid novel The Funeral Dress imagines the struggles of a young Tennessee seamstress: Making Ends Meet With Every Single Stitch"
SheReads's feature "Tell Me Something True: A Visit with Susan Gregg Gilmore"

Book Review: The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro

I've heard it said that every story is a mystery. Although Kathleen Tessaro's new novel The Perfume Collector is far from your typical mystery novel, it is as mysterious as stories get. There are no investigators bumbling around, no murdered corpses laying about, but nonetheless it held my attention every bit as those edge-of-your-seat thrillers.

When Grace Munroe receives a letter at her home in England in 1955 telling her of an inheritance in France, she is perplexed. She has never been to Paris, knows no one there. As she suffers marital issues and personal discord, however, she makes a decision to travel there by airplane and solve the riddle herself. She meets immediately with Edouard Tissot, the attractive, attentive French lawyer in charge of settling her benefactor's estate.

She refuses to acquiesce to the initial demands from the law firm to wrap up the business of her inheritance quickly, choosing instead to do some digging into the life of the person who left her such an unexpected legacy. Through flashbacks to 1920s New York City and Europe through the decades that follow, Tessaro recounts to readers the fascinating tale of Eva d'Orsey's life.

You know a book is an excellent read when you spend much of your time marking lines that grab you. I did this in the beginning, but about halfway in I didn't pause for such literary nonesense; at that point, I was devouring the book as fast as I could read to find out what happened and how it unfolded.

A couple of the lines from early on:

"There was something naive, sweetly arrogant about the doctor's assumption that everyone wanted to live forever."

"Grace didn't like to admit to sleeping during the day; it felt like the thin edge of the wedge."

The mystery in the book kept me reading, but there was so much more to enjoy and dissect. I found myself drawn to Tessaro's richly drawn characters, even as they made decisions I couldn't wholeheartedly agree with.

My college women's studies courses in feminism came rushing back as I contemplated the fine line between women's choice and men's force. Various types of feminism, for example, view prostitution differently. Some feminists view prostitution as a form of violence against women, while others view it as a woman's right to freely use her body how she chooses.

I struggled with similar feelings about some of both Grace Munroe and Eva d'Orsey's actions in the novel, and I think an examination of their characters through various lenses would yield interesting results. Are they strong, independent women, or a victims of circumstance? Whatever your final take on each of their characters, The Perfume Collector will force readers to think about the double-sided nature of humanity: both the good and the ugly.

Another fascinating aspect of the novel is the topic referenced in the title: the idea of scent and its multi-faceted layers of meaning. Knowing nothing about the making of perfume before reading this book, I found the passages detailing the pressing of flowers, wool, and even hair to distill their scent fascinating. Although this is not a novel explicitly about the history of perfume making, Tessaro nonetheless weaves a knowledge of perfuming into the pages of the book in a way that brings a richness and depth to the story.

Kathleen Tessaro is the author of four previous novels. Although American born, Tessaro spent more than two decades living in London, and her first-hand experience in Europe lends an authentic flavor to her writing set on the continent.

The Perfume Collector is the August selection of the SheReads Book Club. For more thoughts on this title, you can visit their August Book Club page and see what others had to say!

SHE READS BOOK CLUB Book Review: Calling Me Home by Julie Kibler

I was honored to become part of the She Reads Blog Network last fall, and this is the title chosen for their February Book Club. Most bloggers link up towards the beginning of the month; I'm just a little bit late this month, as I'm just now getting back into the swing of blogging about anything at all! You can read more reviews of Calling Me Home by clicking here. You can join the book club discussion over at She Reads after you've read the book yourself!

A bit about the book (from the author's website): Sixteen-year-old Isabelle McAllister longs to escape the confines of her northern Kentucky hometown, but after her family's housekeeper's son rescues her from a Newport drunk, the boundaries seem smaller than ever.

Falling for a black boy in late 1930s Kentucky isn't just illegal, it's dangerous. Signs at the city limits warn Negroes, “Don’t let the sun set on you here.” Despite repeated warnings, Isabelle and Robert disregard the racial divide, starting a chain of events that threatens jobs, lives, and generations to come.

Decades later, black hairstylist Dorrie Curtis agrees to drive her elderly white client cross-country to a funeral. Over the years, Miss Isabelle has become more than just a customer, but the timing couldn't be worse. First, Dorrie's seeing a man she's afraid she could fall for, but one thing is more obvious than ever: Trust is not her strong suit. Second, she knows her teenager's in big trouble; he just hasn’t told her yet.

When a phone call from home confirms Dorrie's fears, Miss Isabelle's tale of forbidden love illuminates Dorrie’s dilemma, merging the past and present in a journey with unexpected detours and a bittersweet destination.

How I felt about the book (and why you should read it): Julie Kibler's Calling Me Home could have been just another tale of race relations in the south. I am going to fully admit that when I read the description, I thought, 'Great. Driving Miss Daisy, The Help, and To Kill a Mockingbird, all rolled up into one and redone for the upteenth time.' I couldn't have been more wrong.

First of all, the two main characters grab you and don't let go. Dorrie and Isabelle are two of the most engaging characters I've been introduced to in a long time. They aren't perfect, but neither are people in real life. Although we know Miss Isabelle during two different periods in her life (young adulthood and as an elderly woman), and Dorrie only as an adult, Dorrie is every bit as dynamic in only the present day.

Another aspect of Calling Me Home that I enjoyed was the way Kibler told her story. Varying between present day and flashbacks, we are introduced both to Dorrie and Miss Isabelle as they take a road trip north and to Isabelle as a young woman in the 1930s. Ostensibly a story Isabelle tells Dorrie as they drive, the 1930s story line becomes every bit as important -- perhaps more so -- as the present day plot. Kibler strikes the perfect balance between the two stories, building suspense by switching time periods, on more than one occasion. The technique certainly worked on me, as I raced to finish the book and find out how both stories concluded.

While this isn't necessarily a tale of happily-ever-after, it mirrors real life and will  nevertheless leave readers satisfied in the end. Calling Me Home is a book I would recommend to anyone seeking a good story, those who like stories about race relations in our country, and those interested in relationships. Because at its heart, the novel is just that -- a story about human relationships in all the various forms they take: mother-child, friendship, romantic love, and even the sometimes instantly-deep relationship strangers form when they meet during happenstance and show kindness to one another.

About the author: Calling Me Home is Julie Kibler's debut novel. She grew up in Kentucky (among other places) and moved to Texas to attend college. I always think novels ring more true when the author writes what he or she knows. Case in point, this novel and its setting. The inspiration for the story came from Kibler's own family. She learned that her grandmother experienced a similar situation to the one Isabelle faces, and that inspired her to create a fictional version. She is currently at work on her next novel. You can learn more on her website, where you will find links to connect with Kibler on your favorite social media site.

Book Review: Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness

Yesterday, I reviewed Deborah Harkness's first novel A Discovery of Witches. Today, I'm telling you about Shadow of Night, the second book in Harkness's All Souls Trilogy. If you haven't read either title, I suggest you click over to my review from yesterday before continuing to read below. My review of Shadow of Night contains some unavoidable spoilers for the first book. If you don't mind, read on! I just like to give fair warning, as I detest spoilers myself.


A bit about the book: Time travel is a perk of the fantasy genre, and in her latest book Shadow of Night, Deborah Harkness makes excellent use of this convention. At the end of A Discovery of Witches, main characters Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont found themselves under attack by creatures of all sorts. After Diana requested a manuscript linked to the history of witches, vampires, and daemons in the Oxford library, she became an instant target.

In Shadow of Night, Diana and Matthew time travel back to the year 1590 in order to escape their current-world problems. Additionally, they hope to find some clues about Ashmole 782, the much-sought-after manuscript that began it all. As they travel to various locations in Europe, Harkness weaves a tale of love, mystery, and history all bound into one.


Why you want to read it: One reason I hailed A Discovery of Witches as a must-read rather than just another story full of vampires is because of Harkness's highly intelligent storytelling. She is not simply one more author throwing her hat into a genre because it seems like an easy sell. Instead, Harkness is gifting the world with a complex, well-written trilogy of books. Shadow of Night is a fantasy tale on par with The Lord of the Rings, not one of the many poorly-penned vampire series that popped up in the wake of Stephenie Meyer's success. If it seems like I'm repeating myself, I probably am -- but I just don't want these books lumped in with all the others.

Shadow of Night is rich with the European history in which Harkness is an expert. Even the title refers to Matthew's circle of friends, the real-life group called the School of Night. Members (both from history and from Harkness's novel) include explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, playwright Christopher Marlowe, poet George Chapman, and scientist Thomas Harriot, among others. Harkness brings these staid characters to life in the pages of Shadow of Night, no small feat in my opinion. Although historical fiction is never my first choice, in Harkness's hands it becomes fascinating. Harkness also populates her novel with other historical figures, including Queen Elizabeth and Shakespeare himself.


The bottom line: History weaving and brilliant writing aside, in Shadow of Night Harkness has spun a tale that would capture the attention of almost any reader. The love between Diana and Matthew becomes much more complicated and deeper on every level. The plot is involved and intertwined delightfully with historical figures and events, including the growing fear surrounding witchcraft that results in trials and persecutions all over the world. And finally, there is the growing mystery surrounding Ashmole 782, which continues with a vengeance in this second book in the series. Harkness hasn't yet set a date for the third novel to be released, but suffice it to say I'll be reading it!

About the author: Deborah Harkness is the author of one previous novel, A Discovery of Witches, and two non-fiction titles. She has been a scholar of history for more than twenty years, working in various college and library settings. She is currently a professor at USC, specializing in European history and the history of science. You can find more information about her books by visiting her website, adding her on Facebook, or following her on Twitter.

Reading in the Classroom: Pam Munoz Ryan's Esperanza Rising

This year my seventh graders read Pam Munoz Ryan's Esperanza Rising, and -- for the most part -- absolutely loved it. We read it primarily aloud, throughout the third nine weeks, although at times we varied this. For instance, my students enjoyed doing small group and partner reading, during which they read anywhere in the room -- in the floor, under my table, by the window -- aloud to each other at their own pace.

If you've never read Esperanza Rising, I can't recommend it highly enough. I first read it years ago, when my mom was going through coursework to add an ESL endorsement to her teaching license. In the novel, twelve-year old Esperanza undergoes many life changes in a short period of time -- she loses a family member, her home is lost, and her family is forced to immigrate to America from Mexico. Munoz's novel is a story of many difficult times in Esperanza's life, but also of the hope that rises in spite of it all. In Spanish, Esperanza's name means "hope," making the novel's title translate into "hope rising."

We (obviously) did many activities and lessons on various topics throughout our reading of the novel -- an entire nine weeks worth! We did various things with vocabulary in the novel -- defined it with dictionaries, wrote our own definitions, used context clues to define, wrote sentences with the words. We also examined plot, characters, setting: all the usual literary suspects

Our study of the novel began with a crash course on the Great Depression. Scholastic has a wonderful slideshow with captions (click here for Great Depression slideshow) that is appropriate for elementary students. Seeing images of real people and places helps the students connect with the time period, although it was more than eighty years ago. We then wrote a journal entry similar to the one Scholastic suggests: how do you think you would deal with living during this time period?

To keep track of the plot, students created a plot foldable. It was just a simple accordion-folded half piece of paper on which we wrote each chapter's plot separately. When unfolded and flattened out, the student could review the entire plot of the novel in a small amount of space.

We also wrote a compare/contrast paper delving into the characters of Esperanza and Isabel, a girl Esperanza meets once in California. Using a Venn diagram, we compared the two characters, answering the questions: how are they alike? How are they different? I then asked students to choose the character they were most like and write a paper comparing themselves to their character of choice.

We studied conflict in the novel, and students drew fabulous drawings illustrating person vs. person, person vs. environment, and person vs. self types of conflict. These went out on the wall in our hallway!

Symbolism exists throughout Esperanza Rising. In addition to regular symbolism that exists in virtually all literature, Pam Munoz Ryan frames her chapters with symbolism. Each chapter, rather than having a number, is titled by a fruit or vegetable that factors heavily into that particular part of the novel. Of course, the fruit or vegetable has both a literal meaning and use in the novel and also a deeper, symbolic meaning. For instance, in the chapter "Las Papayas," Esperanza receives a shipment of papayas for her birthday. The  papayas symbolize her father's immense love for her, as he ordered them especially for her. We used a graphic organizer chart to keep track of the fruit and vegetable symbolism in the novel (click here for Symbolism in Esperanza Rising chart in PDF).

Finally, my students performed a skit using the Reader's Theatre Script from Pam Munoz Ryan's own website (click here for Esperanza Rising Reader's Theatre Script in PDF). I divided students into groups for sound effects, speaking parts, background/scenery, and props. All groups did an excellent job, and the skits my two classes performed were amazing -- and, starring seventh graders, often hilarious (even during the serious scenes).

In addition to Esperanza Rising, Pam Munoz Ryan is also the author of four other books for middle grade readers, as well as almost a dozen picture books for younger children. For more about this author, visit her website.

The Mapping of Love and Death Continues Maisie Dobbs' Story With Loads of Heart

Maisie Dobbs has loads of life experience, despite the scant thirty or so years she's been on the earth. In the Maisie Dobbs series, set in 1930s England, author Jacqueline Winspear explores Maisie's life thus far, as well as her current career as a "psychologist and investigator."

Although I'd only read the first and second novels in the Maisie Dobbs series before diving into the seventh book, The Mapping of Love and Death, Winspear once again stays true to a certain pattern she has set in her books. Maisie is introduced to a case, she begins her -- seemingly straight-forward -- investigation, and everything promptly falls apart. Other (often unpaid and unrequested) side cases materialize; murders occur; accidents happen. Maisie being Maisie, she never leaves well enough alone -- and she never leaves any stone unturned.

In The Mapping of Love and Death, Maisie is hired by an American couple to find their cartographer son's lost love. As he perished in the Great War, Maisie has only a packet of letters and a diary to use in her investigation. The simple request snowballs into quite a mess as the elderly couple is brutally attacked just after leaving Maisie's office. Compounding the problem are a tangle of family secrets and a bit of violence toward Maisie herself.

Maisie leans heavily upon friends and family in The Mapping of Love and Death. Despite her independent streak, as she has matured, Maisie has learned the value of loved ones. Both in her cases and in her personal life, Maisie has come a long way from her debut in Maisie Dobbs (my review). Although still fiercely self-determined, she has at last come to rely on a select few people, which often changes things enormously both in her career and in her life. It seems in this seventh installment of the series that Maisie may at last have found a suitor, as well.

Although set in the 1930s, Winspear carefully connects each case -- and therefore, each novel in the Maisie Dobbs series -- to World War I. Maisie inevitably finds a link to the war within the cases she investigates. Although a decade and a half has gone by since the war's end, the people in England are only just beginning to recover. Then, of course, the Great Depression occurs in America, affecting Europe, as well. Winspear expertly recreates England in this era in her novels. Although description and setting play a large part, Winspear also manages to write in an old-fashioned manner that lends itself to the time period. Her words are chosen carefully, dialogue meticulously written to echo speech at the time.

The Maisie Dobbs series is a delight for both fans of historical fiction as well as mystery lovers. Winspear manages just the right balance of 1930s era description and page-turning suspense, coupled with an engaging main character.

Jacqueline Winspear is the author of nine books in the Maisie Dobbs series. You can follow Winspear on Facebook, at her website, or on her blog MaisieDobbs.com.

March is Maisie Month, and TLC Book Tours has planned a month-long book tour to celebrate the release of the ninth book in the series, Elegy for Eddie.

For a full listing of stops on the tour, visit TLC's March is Maisie Month page. Last week, the first six books in the series were reviewed. This week is all about The Mapping of Love and Death:

• Monday, March 12th: Lit and Life  
• Wednesday, March 14th: Starting Fresh 
• Thursday, March 15th: Broken Teepee 
• Friday, March 16th: Unabridged Chick

Next week you'll find reviews of the eighth Maisie Dobbs book, A Lesson in Secrets, followed by reviews of the brand-new Elegy for Eddie March 26-30. Haven't yet read a Maisie book? Take this opportunity to pick one up and catch up on the series before Elegy for Eddie releases March 27.

Only Time Will Tell Begins the Clifton Chronicles with a Cliffhanger That Will Keep Readers Coming Back for More

Never has a book title been more accurate. We've been talking in my classes this week about titles, what they mean, and how they affect your feelings about a story. We did an activity in which the class read a single Raymond Carver short story, but with half reading it under the title "Small Things" and half reading it under the title "Mine."

After my hoax was discovered (they uncovered the truth when we began listing reasons why the titles fit each story), they then showed their opinions physically by standing on one side of the room or the other, depending on which title they felt was a better fit.

Jeffery Archer has plenty of writing under his belt, enough that a title is most likely a simple thing for him to choose. But Only Time Will Tell is particularly telling because it works on so many levels for this latest Archer novel. For one thing, it is a literal message for the reader.

Archer's latest work is the first in a planned five-part series, meaning that from the get-go the reader understands that much will not be decided in this first installment. Rather, the story is set up and characters are introduced. I am a fan of series novels, but not always of planned trilogies and the like. However, going into a read with that knowledge did cause me to allow a little more leeway. Usually, I like a plot that is wrapped up tightly at the end of a book. In this case, I will truly have to tune in to future publications in order to know what happens next. And I'm perfectly okay with that.

Archer's title also works because the characters in the book, like the reader, are also left hanging. As much of the plot is left open-ended, the characters' conflicts are not worked out. In fact, while some small issues are concluded, many more begin just as the book ends.

Only Time Will Tell is the story of Harry Clifton, birth up through his mid-twenties. Born in England to a working-class family, he often skips school in favor of visiting the docks where his uncle works or conversing with a neighborhood man called Old Jack. He has a gift, however, and that gift of a beautiful voice works in his favor and pushes him onward to better things. He begins to excel in schoolwork, and winds his way through various grammar and prep schools.

In the course of Harry's life as a schoolboy, we see him develop friendships with boys from all walks of life. We also learn much about his family's background. His mother, though uneducated, works hard in order to give Harry a better life than the life she had. His father, however, is a mystery that persists. Arthur Clifton disappeared when Harry was a boy, but Harry believes his father was killed in World War I, as that's all he's ever been told. Harry's mother questions whether or not her husband was actually Harry's father, as she had a one-night affair just before their wedding.

Through various voices -- Harry's, his mother's, and Old Jack's, just to name a few, Archer spins a tale that should delight his readers both old and new. Only Time Will Tell begins a saga that will, through the five books in the set, span more than a hundred years. The story is a bit melodramatic, but perfect for readers who love to devour a good plot. The novel has no lack of betrayal, secrets, and surprises.

Jeffery Archer is the author of fifteen novels and a wide array of short stories, as well as plays and children's stories. My two favorites are As the Crow Flies and Sons of Fortune, stories which also span large periods of time and are also family sagas.

Summer in the South Is the Perfect Novel to Kick Off Your Summer Reading

Rolling hills of farms. Fields full of tall grass. Trees dripping with kudzu. Long two-lane roads running through this landscape. Picture this, and you've perfectly captured the setting of Cathy Holton's latest novel Summer in the South.

After living a mostly-nomadic life with little in the way of roots, save some time spent in Chicago, Ava Dabrowski is struggling. Her career is in shambles; her love life is a disaster; and she's just lost her estranged mother. When old college acquaintance Will Fraser offers her a place to stay for the summer in Tennessee, Ava surprises even herself by accepting. Ava drives south, knowing little to nothing about the so-called Bible belt. Although what she experiences confirms many southern cliches, Ava also learns much about small town life in the south -- which is, as Holton says, "a place where nothing much ever happened. If you didn't count murder, tragedy, undying love, and familial revenge" (314).

Summer in the South is much more than a simple Yankee-thrown-into-the-south tale, though. Holton employs multiple devices that enrich the novel. For one thing, there is a novel-within-a-novel feel to the story (although we don't ever actually read Ava's novel) as Ava struggles to write a novel based on the history of Will's family. Her battle with writer's block and then descriptions of her feverish periods of writing were fascinating to me. At one point Ava becomes lost in what Holton describes as a "fairy-tale view of reality"after "a period of intense work on her novel" (288).

Holton also includes historical elements in Summer in the South. In fact, the story begins with a death that took place in 1931. As any respecting southerner would tell you, you are nobody without a family history. Whether it be tales of genteel life on the plantation (similar to Will's family's history) or stories of bootleg moonshine and gambling (as in some of the other characters' personal histories), "who your people are" is important in the south.

Holton peoples her novel with rich, dynamic characters. In addition to Ava, Will, and the elderly sisters who open their home to Ava, both Will's cousin Fraser and local ex-UT-cheerleader-turned-jilted-housewife Darlene come to mind. Fraser, who attended UVA and was a member of the Raven Society, now dresses and has taken on the affectations of Edgar Allen Poe. Darlene is a caricature of a trampy middle-aged pageant queen. Both bring a liveliness to a novel that is otherwise dark in some of its themes -- death, loss, the past.

The main character Ava is a quintessential almost-30-year-old single female: constantly taking up with the wrong men, spurning the good ones. Chasing dreams and squelching actual paths that have promise. But in the end she learns something from her time in the southern town she inhabits:

"She laughed. 'I've always wondered, what is the meaning of life? But now it dawns on me that I've been asking the wrong question.'
'What's the right question?'
'What is the meaning of my life?'
'Ah,' he said." (327)

At times Holton seems dangerously close to writing out southern cliches rather than describing the "real" south. But it occured to me that often things become cliche because they are, in fact, so true. For example, some of her names sound old-fashioned and far-fetched: Maitland, Josephine, Fanny, Clara. But she isn't off-base at all with these eccentric-sounding names. I live in the south, the land of these real-life names: Imelda, Elbert, Nester, Inzy, Bertha (all real people).

Holton writes about a place where people say, "Who would have thunk it" and "bless her little heart"; where "we don't push a button [but] mash it"; "and if someone down here says your baby is sweet, well, then you know it's ugly" (121). Far from becoming cliche, Holton writes about the south exactly as it is -- whether we want to own up to it or not!

Summer in the South was a charming novel whose characters, setting, and plot drew me in and refused to let me go. I finished the entire book in just over 48 hours! It was the perfect book to kick-start my summer reading. As the afternoons grow long and the sun gets hot, treat yourself with this excellent example of southern literature.

Cathy Holton is the author of several other novels (which you know I will be snapping up quickly to read), including Beach Trip and two novels about a group of women who call themselves the Kudzu Debutantes. As I'm heading to the beach in two weeks, I think you can guess that copies of all three may just make it into my beach bag -- especially Beach Trip!

You can visit Holton at her website or her blog. You can also read an excerpt of Summer in the South on her website and see for yourself just how good it is.

The Cypress House Mixes a Creepy Ghost Story With 1930s Florida History

Michael Koryta is no stranger to fame, but his last standalone (not written as part of series) novel So Cold the River received rave reviews from all over the place -- it was an Amazon Best Book of the Month in June 2010, reviewed by NPR, written about in the NY Times, and excerpted in the Wall Street Journal. In addition to So Cold the River, Koryta is the author of the Lincoln Perry crime series. Koryta's recent successes are now followed by another standalone novel released this week, The Cypress House.

The Cypress House shares with So Cold the River its supernatural themes. Arlen Wagner, a World War I veteran, has a devastating gift: he sees death. Once Arlen has seen smoke in a person's eyes, it's only a matter of time before they meet their end. As he boards a train bound for Key West with a group of Civilian Conservation Corps men, he sees smoke in the eyes of his fellow passengers and is forced to reveal what this means -- their immiment demise. All but one of the men refuse to listen to his ghost-talk, and they travel on to the camp in the Keys. Days later Arlen hears news that a hurricane killed all the men by wiping out the railway line they were traveling on.

He and friend Paul Brickhill end up at the Cypress House, an old bed and breakfast that is still up and running, yet mysteriously devoid of customers. Despite the mystery that surrounds the inn, Arlen and Paul are both drawn to the madame of the house, Rebecca Cady. More deaths, run-ins with the local sheriff, dealings with the mafia, and the Cypress House's own grisly history keep Arlen and Paul on their toes as they try to determine their next move. Arlen's gift both helps and haunts him throughout the action-packed novel.

I am not always a fan of supernatural elements in literature, nor am I usually a reader of action novels. However, Michael Koryta manages to incorporate both of these into an excellent novel that kept me interested throughout its entirety. He writes the ghost story so well, I actually had goosebumps some of the time. I live with the belief that "there's no such thing as ghosts," but in Koryta's world everything is possible -- and he writes it so that it becomes possibility. In addition to his gift as a storyteller and character-builder, Koryta does an excellent job of incorporating the historical, 1930s Florida setting into the novel. The setting almost becomes a character in itself -- a skill I adore in an author.

I especially like that Koryta did his homework for The Cypress House. The 1935 Labor Day Hurricane really occurred, and it has been considered the strongest storm to ever touch land in the United States. It was responsible for destroying the Florida East Coast Railway between mainland Florida and the Keys. The CCC also existed as a plan by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to keep men working during the Great Depression. Many of these were World War I veterans that had been unable to find work after returning home from the war.  CCC camp workers in Florida helped create state park facilities that are still in use today. And a Cypress House inn also exists in the Florida Keys -- I'm not sure it has much in common with Koryta's version, but I love that it is there.

I'm glad Koryta has several previous novels for me to go back and read. I can't wait to dive into both the Lincoln Perry series and his previous standalone novels -- especially So Cold the River. Koryta is currently on book tour for The Cypress House. Check out the schedule to find out if he's coming to a city near you.

The Crimson Rooms Renews My Interest in Historical Fiction

I put the term "historical fiction" in the title for this post, but I hesitate to say that Katharine McMahon's novel The Crimson Rooms can be categorized so easily. The thing is, I don't think of myself as someone who enjoys historical fiction, and I loved The Crimson Rooms. Yes, it had a historical setting -- and yes, that setting is of central importance to events in the novel. However, I like to think of it as just that -- a book with a well-planned, well-written setting; not a genre novel.

The Crimson Rooms encompasses many things I look for in a novel: a strong protagonist who is flawed (but likeable), a plot with twists and turns (but not so many that it's distracting), strong setting (in this case, a historical one), beautifully written (impeccable word choices, without over doing it with needlessly big vocabulary). It also includes two other genres that are of interest to me: mystery/thriller and women's literature. That combination alone could have caused me to like it even if it was lacking in other areas (though it decidedly was not).

Evelyn is one of the first female lawyers in London. The year is 1924, and Europe is still reeling from World War I. It seems no one in the novel has not been touched by the war in some way. As she works as a law clerk for a well-established male lawyer, she becomes involved in several cases the press focuses on. One of these is a murder investigation, sensationalized because the defendant is the husband of the murder victim. Evelyn works alongside her male colleagues, who are working for the defense. They work to uncover clues about the couple's marriage that might bring another suspect into the spotlight.

Meanwhile, on a personal level, Evelyn is in a bit of a crisis. She is thirty and never had a true suitor; although education and career have been more important to her, she begins to wish she could have both. An unlikely candidate comes into the picture, but complications abound. Additionally, a Canadian woman shows up on the family's doorstep, bringing up the past and casting a poor light over the memory of Evelyn's brother James. The sainted James died during the war, and the entire family has been in mourning ever since. McMahon writes the elderly mother, aunt, and grandmother characters perfectly. Readers can almost hear their clucking around Evelyn each night at the supper table.

Various elements begin to collide, bringing the plot to a crashing crescendo at the novel's end. Although a lengthy read (it took me a week to finish, even though it was a page-turner for me), it was definitely worth it. McMahon's other novels have been standalones, but I wouldn't mind finding out more about Evelyn and where life takes her. Perhaps McMahon will consider returning to the story at some point.

McMahon is also the author of bestselling titles The Alchemist's Daughter and The Rose of Sebastopol. She writes a blog about -- what else? -- writing, of course.

Now, off to scour the library shelves for more McMahon books...

The Postmistress Examines WWII and Human Empathy (With an Interesting Plot, As Well!)

Since it was published in February, I've read dozens of reviews for Sarah Blake's second novel The Postmistress. Sometimes, I avoid those over-zealously marketed books, figuring that if they held any merit they would be able to stand on their own, without all the hype. I managed to dodge The Postmistress until a month or so ago, when it showed up in my local library's New Books section. Sitting there on the shelf, fresh off the hold list (or accidentally misplaced back into circulation from where it should have been on the hold shelf), it called out to me. What was it about this book? I'd heard bloggers and reviewers laud the book's cover. It didn't really appeal to me with its antiqued letter and purple rose. It was a historical novel that looked like a historical novel (well, okay -- minus the corseted heroine with windblown hair on the cover). And I don't really like historical novels. At all.

I must say on all counts, I was absolutely wrong about The Postmistress. I enjoyed it immensely. It was one of the first novels in a long time that I couldn't wait to read each evening. I thought about the characters when I wasn't reading; I wondered what would happen to them next. In my opinion, a book is outstanding if it hooks a reader so thoroughly.

In The Postmistress, Blake tells a story of World War II that has not been told before (or, if it has, not to me -- but again, keep in mind that historical fiction is not my forte). She examines the war prior to America's entrance into it, from varying viewpoints of those on both sides of the Atlantic and their unique perspectives on what the Nazis were doing in Europe. For many Americans, the only news they heard of this European war came through radio broadcasts and newspaper accounts.

Blake introduces a whole host of small town characters living in the enclosed New England community of Cape Cod, most wrapped up in their own insular dramas and ignorant of the plight of Londoners during the nightly bombing raids and of Jewish people living all across Europe as the Nazi army marched through and gained control. Postmistress Iris James struggles to maintain the status quo, doing what her inner self of right and wrong directs her to do. Emma Fitch, the local doctor's wife, wrestles with her own demons. Blake also tells the story of female radio reporter Frankie Bard, who was living and reporting from London during the raids.

Intertwined with factual, historical recall of the war, Blake also introduces larger questions about humanity and our reactions to the hardships of others. As human beings are we primarily concerned with ourselves, or with the state of our world? Blake uses the characters of Iris, Emma, and Frankie to address the intricacies of living in a world filled with wars both large and small.

The Postmistress is a novel I would recommend to almost anyone, as it relates to the stories of so many. Blake's second book is not just a piece of women's fiction or a historical novel, but rather a novel with far-reaching implications for our own era.