I went to a book group meeting this week, one of a couple of book groups I have suddenly found myself attending after several years of famine, and that meeting as well as the book we read, reminded me that had I promised to subject you to another catch-up post, a discussion of books read in January, simply because I had, and unimaginatively at that, already consigned the books to some kind of mental dust-bin.
Fear not, for that is not exactly where I am going with this post. I will clean up some lose ends, and write about books, recent and past reading, but this will not, by any means be a full accounting.
But to start, what was I reading this week, and why? The book was At Briarwood School for Girls by Michael Knight, who is local and who was attending our meeting in order to talk about his book. Truthfully, I would probably not have picked up this book had it not been a book club choice, and had I not wanted to hear what the author had to say. The marketing description of the novel read as more a coming-of-age story about a pregnant teenager at a girls school with the addition of a ghost and a planned Disney theme-park.
I was mistaken in my initial impressions and i am glad I read the book. The novel is well-written and well-plotted, and the prose is elegant and spare, with a lack of sentimentality that functions at a remove while still being sympathetic to its characters, all of its characters. Neither Disney nor the Ghost are the main points of this novel, except in that this is a novel about history, about how history flows around us — our own personal history, the personal histories of those we encounter and who influence us, often in ways we do not even recognize, and how even the greater historical currents of our particular time and place play out in the small details of our lives. Everyone in this novel is haunted. History is ever present, rippling outward, although rarely recognized. Knight does not shy away from the way pivotal changes often come in quiet, almost stealthy moments, easily missed.
All that said, I liked the book but did not love it. I must admit that I have enjoyed writing about this book, and meeting the author, more than I actually enjoyed reading the book. The novel appeals to more to my head than to my heart, and i am a reader who wants to engage both my head and my heart. For me it was a novel more of shallows than depths. That doesn’t mean it is not good, or that the person next to me at book group didn’t love it.
And this brings me to the catch up portion of my post. In writing about At Briarwood School for Girls, I found a way to write about the other novels I have read recently, the orphan novels, the novels that I don’t want to write about in and of themselves, or that do not tie into another theme, another potential post. Some of them I loved, others I enjoyed, and at least one not so much.
Why don’t we start there, with the not-so-beloved book. Ken Follett’s Jackdaws was another book club choice, different book club from the one above, about which I remain undecided. Apparently I am trying out book clubs.
Anyway, Jackdaws gripping and fast-paced. Follet is a master of his genre and his protagonist, Flick, is sharp and spunky enough for modern readers to project into while at the same time being bland and never fully developed as an independent character. But the plot was tenuous at best and the story forgettable.
Lisa Jewell’s I found You was a more tightly drawn story, and I thought Jewell managed the structure, alternating between three narrative voices, quite well. The story was engaging and entertaining, and quite well played. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, although once again it is quickly forgotten. No memorable characters but a great bit of occasional entertainment.
Then last week I also reread Stephen King’s novel Mr. Mercedes. It was the most satisfying of this group of novels. I read it a few years ago and picked it up again because I had been watching HBO’s series The Outsider while knitting. I know the HBO series is based on a novel of the same name, but Holly from this novel appears, and I wanted to reacquaint myself. Brady continues to give me the creeps and the sections written in his voice still make my stomach churn, Holly makes me smile, and reading this novel was more satisfying than a few episodes of The Outsider. King is a master of plot and suspense, of balancing intensity with moments of calm, even false calm, and I find his characterizations compelling, even in characters I dislike or find annoying.
Perhaps I will slowly work my way through this series before moving onto The Outsider as well.
