Karen Ann Cullotta

FictionWomen's Fiction

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Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

At first glance, Alice Buckle seems to have her picture-perfect life by the tail—a handsome, Ivy League-educated husband, two darling children, a rewarding career as a drama teacher and a comfortable home in Oakland, California. But for the angst-filled 44-year-old heroine of Melanie Gideon’s first novel, Wife 22, the arrival of a mysterious e-mail survey forces her to acknowledge that the indignities of middle age run far deeper than her suddenly droopy eyelids.

A riveting, tragically comic narrative that is told via the e-mail correspondence between Alice—who has agreed to participate in a marriage study—and an enigmatic male researcher, Wife 22 will resonate with those who rejoice in reading fiction that realistically unravels the lovely messiness of married life. From the moment readers meet Alice’s husband, William, it is clear that a storm is brewing behind the silent stoicism. Indeed, when William has a meltdown and loses his cool—and his job at a tony advertising firm—the family soon finds itself suddenly on a slippery descent towards emotional and financial disaster.

Soon, Alice finds herself seeking solace and escape from the pain of her domestic Armageddon by becoming increasingly dependent upon her flirtatious e-mail relationship with “Researcher 101,” a married man who seems to be everything her troubled husband William is not. As Alice writes, “On the subject of not hiding, I have to tell you that to be asked such intimate questions—to be listened to so closely—to have my opinion and my feelings be valued and account for something is profound.”

While Alice can be annoyingly self-absorbed at times, her naval-gazing tendencies are redeemed by an overwhelmingly good heart and unfailing devotion to her children and best friend, Nedra, who serves as the novel’s wise and warm shaman, speaking truth amid the folly and madness. Whether Alice can extend her gracious and optimistic nature toward her husband is the crux of Wife 22, and thus this reviewer will remain mum, to avoid spoiling the novel’s exquisitely unexpected ending.

At first glance, Alice Buckle seems to have her picture-perfect life by the tail—a handsome, Ivy League-educated husband, two darling children, a rewarding career as a drama teacher and a comfortable home in Oakland, California. But for the angst-filled 44-year-old heroine of Melanie Gideon’s first…

Fiction

The Shoemaker’s Wife

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

Adriana Trigiani’s latest novel, The Shoemaker’s Wife, is sure to resonate with those of us lucky enough to have spent our childhoods listening to our grandparents’ magical stories of life in the old country and immigrating to America. Indeed, the gifted storyteller and author of the best-selling Big Stone Gap series spent more than 25 years researching the details of her own grandparents’ relationship and immigration to New York City’s Little Italy neighborhood before writing the book she describes as her “artistic obsession.”

Though The Shoemaker’s Wife is an homage to Trigiani’s grandparents, it is not a biography. Instead, it’s a divine work of historical fiction, and of course, a love story. The novel opens in the Italian Alps, where Ciro Lazzari and Enza Ravanelli are thrown together by fate after enduring heartbreaking family tragedies. An orphan raised by nuns, Ciro finds himself banished from his village through no fault of his own, while Enza is determined to rescue her large family from poverty and grief after the death of her younger sister. Their goals drive them apart despite an immediate attraction.

Destiny continues to thwart these star-crossed lovers at every turn, even after they discover they both are living in New York. For Ciro, overcoming his lingering grief for the family he lost means throwing himself into his work as an apprentice to a kind shoemaker. Enza’s life in America has a rather miserable beginning—she spends several years in Hoboken as an indentured servant to a distant relative—but the plucky heroine finally manages to break free of her nemesis, landing a job at the Metropolitan Opera House, where she soon becomes a favorite seamstress of legendary opera singer Enrico Caruso. Above it all hovers the question of whether the time will ever be right for Enza and Ciro to be together, and if their shared dream of returning to their homeland will one day come true.

Imbued with both the hardscrabble details of immigrant life on the streets of New York City and the poetic lyricism of Ciro and Enza’s beloved Italian Alps, The Shoemaker’s Wife is a fine Italian meal that one savors long after it is finished.

RELATED CONTENT
Read a Q&A with Trigiani for The Shoemaker’s Wife.

Adriana Trigiani's grandparents inspire a story of destiny
FictionHistorical Fiction

A poetic loss of innocence

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

In her debut novel, The Unruly Passions of Eugenie R., author Carole DeSanti has crafted an evocative story of a young woman’s courageous and reckless coming of age amid the rollicking mayhem of France during and after the Second Empire. While Eugenie’s escapades unfold in the tumultuous era between 1860-1871, her refusal to relinquish her passions and determination to survive are contemporary themes, as is the heroine’s struggle to define her roles as daughter, mother, lover and friend.

While the travails and tribulations afflicting young Eugenie and her compatriots might prove a bit daunting for some readers, DeSanti’s narrative is infused with poetry, lending an earthy realism to even the most complex scenarios.

“To wear mourning is not necessarily to mourn,” writes DeSanti. “To walk at the head of the procession, to bow one’s head over the grave is not necessarily to understand the weight and change of death. Silk or crepe, leather or kid gloves, paste or true jewels . . . a mix of gray and lavender in half a year, or scarlet in a week, whatever the latest fashion codes dictated—none of it is to mourn; for me, it was a reawakening.”

Indeed, DeSanti, the vice president at large at the Penguin Group, who is said to have been “clandestinely” writing this novel for more than a decade, has clearly done her homework. Prior to starting chapter one, readers will certainly want to pore over two special sections tucked at the back of the book: a historical timeline of France, circa 1848-1871, and a brief glossary of French terms. But one need not be a fervent Francophile to appreciate the injection of little known terms like ami-coeur, a term for partner in an intimate relationship.

The Unruly Passions of Eugenie R. is far from a sentimental homage to the lost France of the 19th century. DeSanti’s Paris is exhilarating and art-loving, albeit absinthe-drenched and riddled with venereal diseases and violence, while France’s foie gras country is a pastoral paradise that’s plagued by provincial mores and superstitions. 

Above all, readers will appreciate DeSanti’s aptitude for capturing the timeless themes of youthful insouciance, lost innocence and the ties that bind mothers and daughters, for better or for worse.

In her debut novel, The Unruly Passions of Eugenie R., author Carole DeSanti has crafted an evocative story of a young woman’s courageous and reckless coming of age amid the rollicking mayhem of France during and after the Second Empire. While Eugenie’s escapades unfold in…

FictionDebut Fiction

A girl amidst the bears and the bulls

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

Never mind that you should not judge a book by its cover: I must confess to panicking when I glimpsed the shiny black Louboutin stiletto embellishing Erin Duffy’s debut novel Bond Girl. Call me a snob, but I have no interest in reading anything remotely resembling an homage to Sex and the City. Thus I was delighted to discover that Duffy’s maiden literary voyage has steered clear of the silly and sordid clichés of so-called “chick lit,” and instead delivers a delectable tale of a plucky female bond trader whose Wall Street escapades just happen to coincide with the economic Armageddon of 2008.

When it comes to writing fiction about “the Street,” Duffy—who spent 10 years in the world of fixed income sales—certainly knows her stuff, and is a heck of a storyteller, too. While Bond Girl is not autobiographical, its heroine, Alex Garrett, clearly has much in common with the author. Smart, sassy and smitten with dreams of breaking the gender barriers imposed by the Manhattan men’s club of investment bankers, Alex is hired fresh out of college at the elite firm Cromwell Pierce.

Of course, Alex’s illusions about working on “the Street” are shattered on day one at the firm, after she is handed a child-size folding chair with “Girlie” scribbled on the back and subjected to a fraternity-house work environment.

Surprisingly, Chick—Alex’s profanity-spewing, hard-driving boss—is one of the most sympathetic characters in Bond Girl, which is littered with a cast of offensive characters whose peccadilloes include wagering over a co-worker’s disgusting act of eating everything in the vending machine; talking trash about the firm’s resident silicone-enhanced tart, aka “Baby Gap”; and raising money for charity by auctioning off lunch with the poor guy who mans the building’s coffee cart. Readers will find themselves rooting for Alex from page one—and hoping that the very talented Duffy might have a sequel in the works.

Never mind that you should not judge a book by its cover: I must confess to panicking when I glimpsed the shiny black Louboutin stiletto embellishing Erin Duffy’s debut novel Bond Girl. Call me a snob, but I have no interest in reading anything remotely…

FictionSuspense

Ghosts from a Gypsy past

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

Like many a literary gumshoe before him, private investigator Ray Lovell has a weakness for women, strong liquor and hard-luck tales. Thus, the tortured hero of Stef Penney’s luminous second novel, The Invisible Ones, finds himself swept up in the mystery and mayhem of a pack of traveling Gypsies when he is hired to find a young Romany woman, Rose Janko, who has disappeared from northern England without a trace.

To those with a penchant for Romany-themed literature—books like Colum McCann’s Zoli, for example—The Invisible Ones is sure to prove enchanting. For this reader, it was absolutely impossible to put down. From the opening chapter, when Ray awakens in a London hospital bed, stricken by hallucinations and paralysis, Penney’s formidable literary gifts will hypnotize readers. The tale is told as a dual narrative, in chapters that alternate between the musings of middle-aged private investigator Ray and the angst-drenched reflections of an adolescent boy, JJ. Torn between his love and loyalties for his Gypsy/Romany family and his fervent desire to assimilate with his gorjio—non-Romany—peers at school, JJ portrays his plight with a young boy’s curiosity, wit and idealism.

Ray, who is half Romany himself, finds himself forced to reckon with ghosts from his past as he investigates the Jankos. Simultaneously smitten by and wary of the inhabitants of this mystical netherland of hardscrabble trailer homes, Ray forges a friendship with JJ, providing the youngster with a much-needed male role model, and himself with a sense of fatherhood.

While the novel’s rich subplots are brimming with romance, family pathos and details of Romany culture, The Invisible Ones remains a mystery at heart. Author Penney, who lives in Scotland, won the Costa Award for Book of the Year with her 2007 debut, The Tenderness of Wolves, set in 1860s Canada. Her very different but equally absorbing second novel is sure to mesmerize readers from page one until its shocking, albeit deeply satisfying, ending.

Like many a literary gumshoe before him, private investigator Ray Lovell has a weakness for women, strong liquor and hard-luck tales. Thus, the tortured hero of Stef Penney’s luminous second novel, The Invisible Ones, finds himself swept up in the mystery and mayhem of a…

FictionWomen's Fiction

Family ties turn to knots

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

Motherhood, in all its magical and messy incarnations, is at the heart of Lisa Tucker’s The Winters In Bloom, a story that skates gracefully amid wonder, terror and redemption. Indeed, Tucker’s sixth novel is impossible to categorize, bending the confines of the psychological thriller with an eloquent literary narrative of tangled family ties between not only mother and child, but sisters, ex-spouses and even former in-laws.

Without exception, the characters that populate The Winters In Bloom are fatally flawed from damaged childhoods, yet Tucker’s mastery of voice, time and place prevents their stories from sounding clichéd. Abandoned by their mother and raised by an emotionally distant father and stepmother, sisters Amy and Kyra forge an intense sibling relationship when they are forced to parent one another. Kyra’s husband David was blessed with a loving, albeit long-suffering mother, but he struggles to suppress bad memories of an abusive father and is haunted by the ghosts from his first marriage to the mentally unstable Courtney, whose own maternal experiences bear the imprimatur of Greek tragedy. Still, Kyra and David manage to create a happy life together—until their five-year-old son, Michael, goes missing from their backyard.

If all this angst sounds confusing, stereotypical or even onerous, rest assured, The Winters In Bloom is exquisitely rendered and incredibly addictive. It will resonate with—and terrify—any parent who lies anxiously awake at night, fretful of the maladies and mayhem that can befall a child. This is a beguiling novel, alternately infused with despair and hope, and above all, the redemptive power of love.

Motherhood, in all its magical and messy incarnations, is at the heart of Lisa Tucker’s The Winters In Bloom, a story that skates gracefully amid wonder, terror and redemption. Indeed, Tucker’s sixth novel is impossible to categorize, bending the confines of the psychological thriller with…

FictionWomen's Fiction

A small town touched by magic

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

In The Girl Who Chased the Moon, an elderly giant visits his clothes dryer for messages from beyond, moody wallpaper switches patterns and the town’s most privileged family declines to leave their house after dark. Welcome to Mullaby, North Carolina, a magical, mythical town where the ever-present scent of hickory-smoked barbecue hangs in the air, and where novelist Sarah Addison Allen casts her latest literary spell.

Readers who devoured Allen’s first two novels, Garden Spells and The Sugar Queen, will recall that both beguiling narratives served up mouthwatering sweets alongside a charming, albeit eccentric, cast of characters. While the divine healing powers of homemade cakes and pies are also featured in Allen’s third novel, her 17-year-old heroine Emily Benedict is neither an earth mother, nor a brokenhearted muse. Instead, Allen’s rendering of Emily is painfully realistic, capturing the gnawing loneliness and uncertainty of a grieving young woman who discovers her welcome in Mullaby—her late mother’s hometown—is lacking the usual Southern hospitality. Indeed, the town’s outspoken spinster sisters, Inez and Harriet, speak aloud what everyone is thinking.

“Her mother had a lot of nerve, sending her here,” Inez said. “What a thing to do to a child.” Harriet shook her head. They were both staring at Emily unabashedly. “She’s never going to fit in.”

An Asheville, North Carolina, native, Allen has embraced her Southern gothic roots, writing novels that are brimming with gossips and misanthropes, not unlike the bizarre townspeople who inhabit the works of Carson McCullers and Flannery O’Connor. But unlike McCullers and O’Connor, who never shied away from the bleakness and depravity of human nature, Allen seems unable to stop herself from weaving at least a few redeeming and preternaturally beautiful characters into her novels. Allen’s tendency to wrap her novels in redemption and romance is likely to be appreciated by fans who enjoy a happy ending, but it is worth noting that her most lyrical writing is marked by unadorned realism. As Allen writes of the Mullaby barbecue:

“It was at first a Sunday tradition, then a symbol of the community, and eventually an art form, the art of old North Carolina, an art born out of work so hard it could fell a hearty man. . . . Eventually the origin and the reasons fell away from the bone, and all that was left was a collective unconscious, a tradition without a memory, a dream every person in the town of Mullaby had on the same date every year.”

The Girl Who Chased the Moon is an enchanting look at life in a small town.

In The Girl Who Chased the Moon, an elderly giant visits his clothes dryer for messages from beyond, moody wallpaper switches patterns and the town’s most privileged family declines to leave their house after dark. Welcome to Mullaby, North Carolina, a magical, mythical town where…

A fashionable romance

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

There have always been novels that seem destined for the silver screen, their literary narratives inhabited by characters so vividly alive, they almost beg for a screenplay to set them free. Chris Greenhalgh’s Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky is no exception, and a film adaptation (penned by the author) premiered at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. But the novel (originally published in the U.K. in 2003) is something to buzz about, too.

It is hard to resist the charms of a novel set in Paris and featuring a pair of star-crossed lovers whose creative genius produced such disparate classics as Chanel’s little black dress and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. Much of the novel takes place during the summer of 1920, when Chanel, in the role of patron of the arts, invites Stravinsky; his ailing wife, Catherine; and their four children to stay at her country estate. When Stravinsky quickly accepts Chanel’s purportedly innocent offer to the financially bereft Russian exiles, the tubercular Catherine Stravinsky, confined to her sick bed, is tortured by the knowledge that her beloved husband is in the clutches of the gamine designer, who collects men like bolts of cotton, jersey and wool.

If the novel seems a bit contrived at times, with Greenhalgh reminding us a bit too often what emotions Chanel and Stravinsky are experiencing, the character of Catherine, the composer’s long-suffering wife, is exquisitely and realistically drawn. Though the reader is sure to feel a pang of sympathy or two for Chanel’s struggle to overcome the social stigma of her roots—she was an illegitimate child and orphan born into poverty—it is Catherine whom we find ourselves rooting for. Despite her physical limitations and having to bear the indignity of knowing Stravinsky is unfaithful to her under the same roof where she and her children are “guests” of his fiery mistress, Catherine is the most likeable character in this story. In the end, Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky will strike a dissonant chord which is sure to resonate with readers—and send them scrambling to buy tickets at their local movie box office, too.

Karen Ann Cullotta writes from Arlington Heights, Illinois.

There have always been novels that seem destined for the silver screen, their literary narratives inhabited by characters so vividly alive, they almost beg for a screenplay to set them free. Chris Greenhalgh’s Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky is no exception, and a film adaptation…

FictionHistorical Fiction

Dunant’s convent girls

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

In Sarah Dunant’s latest novel, the Bard’s “get thee to a nunnery” is an apt description of the destiny of 120 young women, for whom Ophelia-esque despair lurks behind the walls of the convent Santa Caterina. Set in mid-16th century Italy, Sacred Hearts takes the reader into the dank and dreary confines of a convent that serves as a virtual prison for those unlucky ladies bereft of a wedding dowry.

For Serafina, a passionate teenager whose romance is torn asunder when she is shipped off to Santa Caterina, living in the convent is torture; a spirited girl, she is not ready to go down without a fight. But when Serafina’s rebellion begins to influence even those who have reconciled themselves to the staid existence of convent life, tenuous relationships begin to fray and the peace at Santa Caterina is replaced with dissent and mistrust.

Dunant has populated Sacred Hearts with only women, yet interestingly it is the males of 1570 Ferrara who are clearly guiding the destinies of Santa Caterina’s inhabitants, as well as battling the incendiary Counter Reformation beyond the convent’s walls. The novel’s greatest strength lies in its ability to convey the intricate complexities of female friendship against the patriarchal rule of the times, with the sage Suora Zuana stepping in as a 16th century “frenemy,” the wise nun acting as both jailer and shaman, manipulator and surrogate mother to the woe-begotten Serafina.

Dunant is adept at writing the cliffhanging chapter, and also spares no details in explaining the painful, torturous rituals of penance followed by those who believe spirituality lies in leaving behind the temporal, and allowing the soul to seek wonderment in a higher power. Readers who have cherished The Birth of Venus and The Company of the Courtesan will embrace this latest addition to the triumvirate of Dunant’s Italian Renaissance novels.

Karen Ann Cullotta writes from Chicago. 

In Sarah Dunant’s latest novel, the Bard’s “get thee to a nunnery” is an apt description of the destiny of 120 young women, for whom Ophelia-esque despair lurks behind the walls of the convent Santa Caterina. Set in mid-16th century Italy, Sacred Hearts takes the…

FictionHistorical Fiction

The Other Queen

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

The bibliography tucked at the tail end of Philippa Gregory’s The Other Queen might come as a surprise to those who assume that only nonfiction writers are rooted to the rigors of scholarly research. For this best-selling author of novels such as The Other Boleyn Girl, The Queen’s Fool and The Virgin’s Lover, a passion for historical accuracy is the cornerstone of her abundant story-telling gift. Deftly weaving fact and fiction into a lyrical, literary tapestry that transcends the boundaries of the too-often predictable genre of historical fiction, Gregory has once again crafted a mesmerizing novel that will keep readers turning pages deep into the night.

Gregory’s legions of loyal fans are already well aware of the author’s aptitude for capturing the timeless pathos of 16th-century Englishwomen, royals and peasants alike. Perhaps never before has Mary, Queen of Scots, been portrayed in such a contemporary, complex manner: a beautiful, charming, headstrong and spoiled young woman who is both maddeningly self-absorbed and overwhelmingly courageous. The same is true for the novel’s anti-heroine, Bess of Hardwick, who transcends her hardscrabble childhood via a trail of calculated betrothals and consequent widowhoods. Proud and pragmatic, Bess harbors no illusions about romantic love, and instead, sets her heart on the comforts of rank and financial security, a coup she achieves with her final marriage, to George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.

Nonetheless, after Bess and George Talbot are asked by Queen Elizabeth to provide “sanctuary” for the beleaguered Mary, Queen of Scots, the couple’s companionable marriage is jeopardized, with poor George smitten by the young queen’s winsome ways, and his once implacable wife reeling with jealousy and, worse, the discovery that she is once again on the brink of poverty.

In the end, which arrives after a series of riveting chapters alternating between the voices and perspectives of Mary, Bess and George, nothing is what it seems. This spellbinding tale of Elizabethan England adds up to a novel as sweet and thorny as a wild English rose.

Karen Ann Cullotta is a freelance writer and journalism instructor in Chicago.

 

Perhaps never before has Mary, Queen of Scots, been portrayed in such a contemporary, complex manner: a beautiful, charming, headstrong and spoiled young woman who is both maddeningly self-absorbed and overwhelmingly courageous.
Fiction

A mysterious young stranger at the gate

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

On a bleak January night, Margaret Quinn opens her front door to a nine-year-old stranger offering neither a plausible alibi, nor an apology for the intrusion. Thus, an elderly woman’s leap of faith begets a beguiling tale of those who love well, but not wisely, unspooling like a poem embroidered on the heart—ornate, painful and true.

Keith Donohue’s Angels of Destruction takes flight from the moment that Margaret allows young Norah into her home, ignoring the instinctive hunch that the orphan’s life history is fabricated. Margaret has been numbed by the loss of her own child, Erica, a runaway teen who disappeared with an anarchist boyfriend a decade ago, followed by the death of her physician husband, Paul. But her stoic resolve begins to melt as she starts to believe the visit by Norah is predestined, and that her role as surrogate grandmother is not so much subterfuge, but rather divine serendipity. Still, when the ethereal Norah’s pocket-full-of miracles makes her a legend in the classroom, but draws fear and suspicion from school officials and parents in the neighborhood, Margaret’s allegedly long-lost “granddaughter” suddenly faces social ostracism and exile.

While some readers might liken Donohue’s penchant for mystical realism to that of novelist Alice Hoffman, any sweeping comparisons shortchange both writers, whose immense gifts bear separate and distinct literary imprimaturs. Still, he shares Hoffman’s uncanny ear for capturing the libretto of childhood, not only in the preternatural Norah, but also her heart-on-his-sleeve pal, Sean. Indeed, the novel’s enchanting cast of peripheral characters possess tragic narratives of their own. They are sure to resonate with readers following the heart-rending path of a mother and prodigal daughter first torn asunder, then soaring skyward on the redemptive wings of unconditional love.

Karen Ann Cullotta writes from Arlington Heights, Illinois.

On a bleak January night, Margaret Quinn opens her front door to a nine-year-old stranger offering neither a plausible alibi, nor an apology for the intrusion. Thus, an elderly woman’s leap of faith begets a beguiling tale of those who love well, but not wisely,…

Fiction

The warmth of female friendships

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

For legions of readers awaiting a reunion with their friends from the best – selling novel The Friday Night Knitting Club, novelist Kate Jacobs' warmhearted sequel, Knit Two, is certain to be a cozy companion on a blustery winter night. While readers familiar with the novel's predecessor will have a deeper understanding of the characters' eclectic personal histories, Jacobs does her best to beckon newcomers into the fold.

Five years have passed since the death of Georgia Walker, the owner of yarn store Walker and Daughter on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Now, the grieving survivors find the fragile ties of their friendships are unraveling. Darwin, who had previously struggled with infertility problems, has recently given birth to twins, but her best friend, Lucie, a single parent, reacts with jealousy, not joy. Dakota, Georgia's college-aged daughter, is a strong young woman, working in the yarn shop and excelling at her studies, but still overwhelmed with the loss of her mother, and struggling to forge a parental bond with her formerly estranged father. Of course, the ever – poised and lovely Catherine, a successful businesswoman, still appears to be perpetually unlucky in love, with her already battered heart once again crushed by rejection.

When a series of unlikely circumstances finds the women crossing paths on a holiday in Italy, old wounds are healed and amore prevails. While readers might be disappointed to find that two other members of the club, K.C. and Peri, don't get more than an occasional anecdote, Jacobs' nuanced, honest portrayal of the group's senior matriarch, Anita, is a delight. Elder love is a subject rarely explored in popular fiction, and in Knit Two, Jacobs captures the bittersweet surprise of late – in – life romance. In addition to providing a recipe for maple apple muffins, a favorite of the knitting clan, Jacobs has embroidered Knit Two with snippets of sage advice applicable to both knitting and life: "You know enough now that you don't just have to follow someone else's pattern."

Karen Ann Cullotta is a freelance writer and journalism instructor in Chicago.

For legions of readers awaiting a reunion with their friends from the best - selling novel The Friday Night Knitting Club, novelist Kate Jacobs' warmhearted sequel, Knit Two, is certain to be a cozy companion on a blustery winter night. While readers familiar with the…

Fiction

Bending the rules to play the game of love

Review by Karen Ann Cullotta

In Kissing Games of the World, single mother Jamie McClintock has neither the desire nor the time for romance. After all, motherhood under the best of circumstances can be overwhelming, and for novelist Sandi Kahn Shelton's latest heroine, an already precarious life caring for her asthmatic son and struggling to pay the bills is thrown off – kilter by the sudden death of her beloved elderly landlord.

When the late landlord's estranged son Nate arrives in town to settle his father's affairs, Jamie discovers that the spirited old gentleman devoted to raising his young grandson was actually a philandering, deadbeat dad in his day. At least, according to Nate, a widower whose late wife's accident left him bereft and entirely incapable of caring for the boy. Now, Nate is reeling from the loss of a father whose transgressions he never forgave, and terrified by the prospect of raising a son he barely knows.

In Shelton's capable literary hands, this is not merely a romantic tale, but also a credible story of a man determined not to let his family's grim history repeat itself. Nate is charming and charismatic, but he can be pathologically insensitive and self – absorbed, too. And Jamie – an artist, whom Nate at first mistakenly assumes was one of his dad's lovers – is not just another pretty face to be seduced and promptly discarded.

Of course, it's not long before Jamie's defensive self – preservation and Nate's blustery bravado crumble under the laws of attraction. Nonetheless, passion is not enough to mend a pair of broken hearts suffering from major trust issues. Shelton's greatest talent is a gift for juxtaposing comedy and tragedy to the pulsing beat of the modern – day mating dance. One moment the reader is laughing out loud at Nate's unconventional parenting practices, and seconds later, nearly weeping as Jamie searches frantically for an asthma inhaler that can save her wheezing son's life.

As the novel reaches its denouement, Jamie and Nate will seem like old friends, beloved despite, or maybe because of, their idiosyncratic personalities. Kissing games, like literature, rely on rules that are meant to be bent but not broken. The same holds true for Shelton's novel, which allows a hopeful ending to unfold gracefully.

Karen Ann Cullotta writes from Arlington Heights, Illinois.

In Kissing Games of the World, single mother Jamie McClintock has neither the desire nor the time for romance. After all, motherhood under the best of circumstances can be overwhelming, and for novelist Sandi Kahn Shelton's latest heroine, an already precarious life caring for her…

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