The Jane Austen Book Club
Karen Joy Fowler
288 pp.
May 2008
Change of plans. I'd actually been working on a different theme for this month, one more serious and...um, profound. But then I finally got around to reading Fowler's book (finished it an hour ago) and decided I really wanted to talk about it.
One of the primary motifs in The Jane Austen Book Club is happiness—and it came to me that happiness, as an ideal, is profound in its own way.
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Zora Neale Hurston, 1937
219 pp.
Alice Walker (The Color Purple) was responsible for kindling our current interest in this lovely but once neglected work. Their Eyes was a favorite of hers, now a favorite of many, and "short-listed" as a favorite of book clubseverywhere.
From the opening lines we know this story is of a dream not to be deferred*—not, that is, for Janie Mae Crawford, the novel's heroine:
Chosen by a Horse
Susan Richards, 2006
248 pp.
March 2008
My sister Janet, a sucker for horses, handed me this book. Neither of us could resist the beautiful face on the cover. It wouldn't matter if the writing inside were drivel. But it's not. Inside is a lovely story about redemption for both horse and human. Grab a tissue.
Richards, an experienced horsewoman, rescues a half-starved race horse. At first sight of the mare, she's overwhelmed: "I'd never had a horse this sick."
Garden Spells
Sarah Addison Allen, 2007
304 pp.
February 2008
This is a sweet book—pretty thin, even predictable. But if you're worn down by tackling dense, darker works, this may be the tonic you need.
Garden Spells offers an easy introduction to magical realism. Claire Waverly has a secret garden in which she grows flowers and herbs for her catering business. Of course, like all best kept secrets, everyone in town knows about the garden—it's legendary—though few have ever stepped foot inside.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
Betty Smith, 1943
512 pp.
January 2008
It's been a year since my friend Nan suggested Marley and Me.
This time she mentioned that she'd just given A Tree Grows in Brooklyn to her youngest daughter. Her older girls, now fully grown, oohed and aahed, recalling it as one of their all-time favorites. Really, I teared up.
That tender display of nostalgia got me to thinking about the book, a beloved classic....