Look: It's a baby! Added for the cuteness factor, I won't lie. |
I scored myself an advanced reader's copy of Portland author Deborah Reed's debut novel Carry Yourself Back to Me. A perk of book blogging and having friends in high places!
I'm always hesitant to review a book that comes to me recommended by someone whose opinion I value; high-stakes book blogging -- sounds riveting, right? I lost a few readers along the way last year during my Around the World challenge because of negative reviews. People would tell me a book to read, I'd read it, hate it, and write about it, and somehow people take this personally. I understand that general feeling -- my first book review on this blog was in response to someone who hated my favorite book.
At any rate, I read the first few pages of Carry Yourself Back to Me and tried to reserve all judgement. I wasn't really prepared to like it (for no good reason, I should add) and so my brain kept trying to pull out of the story and assess the craft. "Anyone can write a compelling beginning," I erroneously thought, "but can you keep my attention Deborah Reed? I dare you!"
The short answer: Yes.
She did.
And my "want to dislike this" attitude was humbled. Sometimes I dislike a book because I genuinely believe it's crap (see Water for Elephants). Sometimes I dislike something because I wish I would have written it and I'm insanely jealous. Carry Yourself Back to Me falls more into that category.
The book opens with country/folk singer-songwriter Annie Walsh mourning the loss of her long-term relationship; a partnership that ended due to infidelity. When she learns her brother Calder is accused of murdering his lover's husband, a series of events unfold in Annie's life that demonstrate to her that life has a unique way of folding in on us -- especially in the throes of a crisis.
I couldn't bring myself to find much fault with Reed's rich prose, her believable characters, and her crisp dialogue. Also, I found the tangelo groves of Florida -- the setting for this book -- vivid and beautiful. (Even if I have never actually been to that particular state in the union.)
The dual themes -- running like two parallel strings from the first page to the last -- resonated with me. And I noticed the complexity of crafting this nuanced story without the hit-you-over-the-head method favored by most writer's today. The story isn't a riveting fast-paced adventure, it's a slower, steadier journey that explores what the heart wants and what it means to love and lose what matters most to you. The book is expertly plotted, which is evident by the fact that you aren't always aware of the plot. In a publishing world where books either have break-neck pacing screaming blockbuster movie or meandering literary books whose plots are thin, at best, I found the combination of a literary book with an engaging plot refreshing and rare.
Every writing "how-to" or workshop instructor vehemently opposes the dreaded flashback as a plot device. Reed's book is a great example of why we should NEVER listen to these books or workshop instructors. The flashback scenes -- woven seamlessly into the story of the present -- provide great background and character development. Some of the flashbacks were my favorite parts. (And bonus to me: my current project depends on flashbacks. I've added Reed's book to a list I'm compiling of author's who utilize flashbacks successfully in case I am ever asked to defend the flashback! (Imagine me saying that in a big booming theatrical voice.))
So, Carry Yourself Back to Me is out on September 20th. It's one of those books that resonates long after you've finished the final page -- subtle and powerful. Go and pre-order from Amazon!
I wish Deborah every ounce of success and hope that this book finds the readership it deserves.