A bit of recent banter with
Moira from
Clothes in Books blog culminated in a one-off one book reading challenge.
My task was… Ok, the
challenge is that each of us has to read and blog a book by an author a) whose
first name hasn't featured before and b) that name has to at least *suggest* a
genre or style quite different from the books most closely associated with our
blogs. Are you on for that? I feel I get off more lightly, as I do dabble a toe
into noir, but I think it'll do you good to read authors called Araminta and
Amelia.
My response…… Ok, one or the other, but probably not both.
As they don't currently reside on the shelves of
CCL, I will need to find something (un)suitable and acquire it, then will need
a week or so to read it...maybe longer if I have to repeatedly stop to stab
myself with a sharp object. I'm going to break with tradition and read it
without pre-announcing what it is.......my! won't you be surprised?
Being stingy with the time-frame - should be
posted by.....hmm - 6th April.
(Gulp.....what have I just agreed to?)
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Well with
apologies for my tardiness in running a week over schedule, mission
accomplished!
There was a
bit of book detecting done prior to selecting Dot. Over at Fantastic Fiction, most of the Amelia options consist of Twilight-esque vampire romps or
lady-porn-erotica type, bodice busters. That was never going to happen. Araminta
Hall was the only Araminta I
could locate which gave me two options for a book. Everything and Nothing seemed like something I would enjoy more
than this one. So from an out of the box-comfort zone reading perspective, Dot was the logical choice.
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Synopsis/blurb…….
The remarkable new
novel from the bestselling author of Everything and Nothing which weaves
together three generations of women, intercutting their stories to create a warm
and heartbreaking tale.
'A dot is the
smallest, most insignificant thing there is.
And it's a full stop, so an ending.
I mean, who on earth would call their child Dot?'
In a higgledy-piggledy house with turrets and tunnels towering over the sleepy
Welsh village of Druith, two girls play hide and seek.
They don't see its grandeur, the marmite brown furniture no-one may sit on, or
the secrets locked behind doors they cannot open.
They see lots of brilliant places to hide. Squeezed under her mother's bed,
pulse racing with the thrill of a new hiding place Dot sees something else: a
long-forgotten photograph of a man, his hair blowing in the breeze.
Dot stares so long at the photograph the image begins to disintegrate before
her eyes, and as the image fades it is replaced with one thought: 'I think it's
definitely him.'
Dot is the story of one little girl and how her one small action changes the
lives of those around her for ever.
Dot is a book
about family and friendship and growing up with the absence of her father. Only
it’s more than an absence; it’s a void and an emptiness that Dot feels, as her
mother and grandmother never acknowledge or explain it. As Dot grows older,
it’s the proverbial elephant in the room - for Dot anyway as her mother, Alice
has little inclination to understand her daughter and how she feels.
Our viewpoint flips from chapter to chapter. Dot describes
her friendship with Mavis from an early age to the cusp of adulthood. Her
longing to know more about her father, but her unwillingness to tackle her
mother or grandmother about him.
We follow Alice. We travel back in time and see how Alice’s
mother scorns her dreams and imposes her will on Alice’s future. Alice meets
Tony and falls pregnant and plots a life away from the strange environment her
own mother Clarice has created for them. Tony with a separation from his own
family and “issues” sides with Clarice and thwarts her escape. Until on Dot’s
second birthday, deeply unhappy and in love with Silver the local barmaid who
he’s been carrying on with, he deserts his family – departing to buy more
birthday balloons but never returning. With no contact or explanation from
Tony, Alice becomes more withdrawn, functioning but with most of the joy sucked
from her life.
We see how Clarice, her mother perceives her daughter and
granddaughter. We share in her mannerisms and formalities and peculiarities.
Still deeply affected by the long ago death of her brother, the suicide of her
mother and the perceived abandonment by her husband who was drowned at sea.
These events (and possibly her breeding and a generational-thing) have shaped
her and given rise to an environment in which emotion and love and affection is
rarely displayed.
Mavis, Dot’s friend has her own family foibles. Sandra her
mother is an obsessive, compulsive cleaner. Gerry her father has his own eye
for the ladies and there is little in common between the two parents. No jokes,
no smiles, no love, no warmth, no affection. We learn and understand about the
second odd-ball family in this book; their history and how they arrive where
they currently are.
Tony, Dot’s father throws his tuppence-worth into the ring
at times, though he’s more of a presence at the climax of the book. Sixteen
years on, still with Silver – his soul mate and two young sons. Still longing
for and loving Dot, though somewhat pathetically (and IMO unbelievably) incapable
of re-establishing contact with his daughter and her long-abandoned mother.
Family, secrets, omissions, deceptions, flirtations, abandonment,
ignorance of facts, feelings and the emotions of others, absence, growing up,
awkwardness, dreams and fantasies, hurried sex, pregnancies, a car accident,
loss, death, longing, bewilderment, fractured friendships, searches, bombs,
letters and a resolution.
Verdict – slow and confusing during the first half, which
may have been down to me. I did have to re-read a couple of chapters to sort
the brain-muddle I was experiencing. Got the gist of who was saying what to
whom and when, during the second part of the book. Second half was better and
more enjoyable, to coin a football analogy – it was a game of two halves (or a
book of, at least)
Slightly contrived ending owing a fair bit to convenience,
though at least we were spared a lot of sugar-coated guff. The author wisely
avoided a full-on, marshmallowy, fluffy, puppy dog and kittens wrapped up in
bows with ribbons and fairy lights, OTT schmaltz-fest of a conclusion. To be
fair, you would have had to have a heart of stone, to have not felt something
as each of the main players in our drama had an epiphany and came to realise
the consequences of their previous actions and the hurts they had often-times
unwillingly inflicted on those they professed to love.
Toying between a 3 and a 4. Half tempted to score 4, being
unduly influenced by the author’s confession at the back of the book in a
Q&A session to loving John Irving
and her citing A Prayer for Owen Meany as her favourite book.
First half confusion and the realisation that I’m probably
not minded to try her other published book, despite my grudging enjoyment of
this has me opting for on balance – 3 from 5.
Bought second-hand recently on either Amazon UK or Abe
Books.
