Book Reviews
Barbieri’s deft writing style is charmingly wry yet evocative, with details and descriptions both telling and vivid.... A sweet summertime yarn [that]...provides a lovely, leisurely escape to the bucolic charms of the Emerald Isle.
Karen Campbell - Boston Globe
Deal[s] with the reinvention of women's lives.... At a point in history when so many of us are struggling to make lemonade out of lemons, and in a summer season when a little literary lemonade is just the thing, [Lace Makers] encourage[s] and inspire[s].
The Seattle Times
Author Heather Barbieri examines with searching intelligence Kate's personal resilience and her quest for creative fulfillment.... Barbieri's rendering of the details of lacemaking seems impressively authentic. The novel features insights into human entanglements both current and from the past.
Minneapolis Star Tribune
Take a trip to an Irish village in Heather Barbieri's delightful novel The Lace Makers of Glenmara. While healing a broken heart, heroine Kate learns the secret of making lace in this unforgettable tale of love.
National Examiner
Devastating loss gives way to new life in Heather Barbieri's charming novel The Lace Makers of Glenmara, about a heartbroken American designer who discovers inspiration, comfort, and friendship in an intimate circle of lace makers from a quaint Irish village.
Parade
Barbieri (Snow in July) sets her latest in a small Irish town, Glenmara, where a heartbroken American tourist, Kate Robinson, finds her one-night stay extended with the help of some motherly role models. Kate's hostess, chronically grieving widow Bernie, draws the young Seattleite into a gossipy ring of lace makers. Kate, a former fashion designer, takes to them perfectly (one of several head-scratching coincidences), inspiring them to take on an empowering but controversial project. Although the focus is always on the positive, the narrative's strongest when exploring the less charming sides of Glenmara; rich sources of missed potential include the local priest, nicknamed Father Dominic Burn-in-Hell Byrne, and Bernie's irritable best friend Aileen, the only "lace society" member to regard Kate with anything but syrupy goodwill. The result is a sweet novel with few surprises. Even Kate's pivotal, inspirational idea-embellishing the ladies' undergarments with lace-suffers from murky logic (as do reactions from characters like Father Byrne). Still, Barbieri's world generates convincing warmth and emotion, making it worth a look for Friday Night Knitting Club fans between sequels.
Publishers Weekly
In her second novel (after Snow in July), Barbieri puts a graceful spin on the theme of a young woman influenced and aided by a group of older female friends. Kate has been deeply shaken by the collapse of her romance with longtime boyfriend Ethan. She takes her deceased mother's advice to heart and travels to Ireland, hoping to gain a fresh perspective on her life. Stranded by rainy weather, she finds herself in a little bed-and-breakfast owned by Bernie, an older woman with a heart of gold who is dealing with the recent death of her beloved husband. As Kate settles into the small village, several members of a local lace-making guild take her under their wings. Kate's background as a fashion designer and seamstress helps her form a strong bond with the diverse group of women. Verdict: A delicately handled romantic subplot featuring a somewhat shy and emotionally wounded Irishman named Sullivan rounds out a compelling and charming story line. Readers who have enjoyed the novels of Maeve Binchy and perhaps Rosamunde Pilcher will find this book equally entertaining. —Margaret Hanes, Warren P.L., MI
Library Journal
In the aftermath of a bad relationship and her mother's untimely death, a Seattle seamstress flees to her ancestral Ireland. Glenmara, the fictional setting of Barbieri's disappointing second novel (after Snow in July, 2004), is a decaying hamlet near the rocky Galway coast. Despite endemic poverty, the village boasts a lace-makers guild: craftswomen who eke out a few euros on tea towels and napkins sold at the village market, when they're not edging altar cloths gratis for curmudgeonly parish priest Father Byrne. Into this anachronistic world wanders Kate, a failed fashion designer who left Seattle for Ireland after her mother succumbed to cancer and her boyfriend dumped her for a model. Elder lace-maker Bernie, widowed and childless, opens her home to the waiflike American. The women demonstrate their delicate art to Kate and tell their stories. Oona is a breast-cancer survivor. Colleen, whose angelic singing voice marks her as a descendent of the mythical selkies (mermaids), fears the sea may claim her fisherman husband. Aileen is troubled by her teenage daughter's Goth phase. Moira lives in fear of her abusive spouse and lies about the origin of the bruises on her face. Kate is introduced to the craics (dances), where she bests Aileen at stepdancing, and to Sullivan, the town Lothario, whose black hair and piercing eyes telegraph that he's the one for her. The central conceit here, reminiscent of Joanne Harris's Chocolat (1999), is that a newcomer introduces a magical Macguffin. In this case, it's Kate's new line of lingerie trimmed with Glenmara lace, which not only revives guild members' marriages, but also challenge the forces of prudery and male oppression. The promising fracas generated by the "knicker wars"—Byrne denounces the guild from the pulpit—dissipates when the priest is conveniently downsized. Barbieri's amateurish prose, replete with comma splices and misplaced modifiers, is utterly unworthy of Yeats, Trevor, O'Brien and other masters whose names are dropped like wishful talismans throughout. Erin go Blah.
Kirkus Reviews