Stephenie Harrison

The opening chapter of Trespass ends with the piercing scream of a child, a sound that seems to transform into a plaintive wail, humming through the rest of the novel until its narrative climax is reached. Although the idyllic setting in the Cevennes region of France might suggest a tranquil story, Rose Tremain’s latest novel is anything but a simple countryside chronicle.

Trespass revolves around two pairs of brothers and sisters who could not be more dissimilar on the surface. Audrun and Aramon live within view of one another at their isolated family home, “Mas Lunel,” but their relationship is fraught with tension over old misdeeds that cannot be soon forgotten. In striking contrast stand Anthony and Vanessa, who live in separate countries, yet share a bond of sibling affection so strong, all other relationships pale in comparison. When Aramon decides—despite his sister’s protests—to put Mas Lunel up for sale, and Anthony considers moving to France in order to be closer to his sister after retiring from his antique furniture business, catastrophic events are set in motion. These four individuals will be irrevocably affected in ways none of them ever imagined, not even in their wildest dreams—or nightmares.

From its outset, Trespass is a novel infused with a quiet menace, just waiting to rear its angry head and devour the characters in its gaping jaws. Tremain thoughtfully explores the decrepitude of encroaching old age, heightened by descriptions of the once-majestic ancestral Mas that has now fallen into disrepair. Through it all, there is a very real, very sinister sense of time running out and the need for action, whether good or bad, before the option to respond to perceived injustices is gone altogether. The plot itself offers fewer surprises than one might hope, but the real meat of this novel is its characters, who will give readers plenty to sink their teeth into. Longlisted for the 2010 Man Booker Prize, Trespass is a dark yet accessible addition to Tremain’s oeuvre. 

In life, there are no do-overs. Forever moving forward, the past is fixed and unyielding; only the future has the potential for change. Unless, of course, you happen to be Octavia Frost, the central character in Carolyn Parkhurst’s latest novel, The Nobodies Album.

Octavia has more than a few regrets, not least of which involve her works of published fiction and the unassailable rift they have driven between herself and her son, Milo. In a daring and unprecedented move, Octavia prepares a work for her publisher inspired by Milo; entitled The Nobodies Album, this is a piece of fiction like no other, consisting solely of final chapters of every book she has ever published, all of them rewritten so as to cast each novel in a new light. Tragically, as she prepares to submit the book, she receives news that Milo has been arrested for the murder of his live-in girlfriend. Desperate, Octavia drops everything to be by his side, praying that her son is innocent and that she can finally be the mother he deserves, the mother she has never managed to be.

The Nobodies Album is a family drama, psychological inquiry and literary mystery, offering something for every reader. As Parkhurst unfurls Octavia and Milo’s story, she scatters Octavia’s original and rewritten chapters throughout the novel, each one providing new insight into the duo’s turbulent dynamic. Those looking for a conventional mystery may feel somewhat underwhelmed by the murder storyline, but, in some ways, the mother-son relationship is a mystery in its own right, as Parkhurst explores the ineffable bond between parent and child. Parkhurst has an uncanny knack for truly inhabiting her characters, laying their inner workings bare, yet here she cleverly uses this introspection to question the extent to which we can ever truly know another human being, even one bound to us through blood.

The Nobodies Album opens with the audacious first line, “There are some stories no one wants to hear,” but when Parkhurst’s stories are the ones in question, nothing could be further from the truth.

It is sometimes the quiet novels, reserved and restrained, that pack the biggest emotional punches. Like artists and painters, truly gifted novelists seem to have the uncanny knack of utilizing “negative space” to tell their tales, striking chords deep within us with a careful juxtaposition of elegant prose while still leaving much unsaid. Reading The Hand That First Held Mine, it is abundantly clear that author Maggie O’Farrell has this rare skill.

O’Farrell’s fifth novel follows the style of the increasingly popular dual-narrative, in which readers are introduced to two remarkable women in alternating chapters. Lexie is a spirited young woman determined to experience as much as she can in 1950s London, while Elina is a present-day artist struggling to navigate the challenges of the first fraught weeks of motherhood following the difficult delivery of her son. Lexie’s journey brings her into the path of Innes Kent, a dashing—but married—magazine editor, who helps her to discover the exhilaration of art, reporting and the various facets of love. As Elina’s own story unfolds, we watch as she grapples with the new depth of feelings her child evokes within her, while also working to incorporate her new role as a mother into her self-identity and maintain intimacy with her boyfriend, Ted.

Initially, the two narratives are equally compelling but also feel separate and unrelated, which may leave a few readers scratching their heads. However, by giving the two stories room to breathe and grow independently, O’Farrell deftly maximizes the psychological tension that sparks and shatters when the two storylines eventually merge. The resulting climax is both dazzling and heartbreaking, rendered in gorgeously haunting prose. A provocative and mesmerizing read, The Hand That First Held Mine is an exquisite but bruising meditation on loss, parenthood and identity that will linger in readers’ minds long after its final pages are turned.

Stephenie Harrison writes from Nashville.

Tim and Kate Welch may not have it all, but they’ve got more than most. Tim is a high school history teacher, while Kate stays at home looking after their two young sons, organizing play dates and struggling to keep her sanity. All this changes when Kate is offered a high-flying job and Tim quits work to be a stay-at-home dad. As if this role reversal weren’t enough to shake up their suburban lives, Anna Brody, an alluring and beautiful socialite, moves into the most coveted brownstone in their Brooklyn Heights neighborhood and sets her sights on Tim and Kate. Initially flattered by her attentions, it isn’t long before the imperceptible cracks in Tim and Kate’s marriage begin to widen, and they realize that climbing the social ladder while rubbing elbows with Anna comes at a high cost.

If while reading Peter Hedges’ latest novel, The Heights, you feel the book has a certain cinematic quality, you’ll be forgiven, since Hedges is the Oscar-nominated screenwriter of such hits as About A Boy and What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (adapted from his own novel). But don’t let his celluloid prowess dissuade you from picking up The Heights, as Hedges has a knack for taking everyday life and making it fascinating. In alternating chapters, Tim and Kate gradually reveal their story, which helps maintain the momentum of the narrative and is sure to keep readers glued to the page as we watch them in their valiant struggles to survive.

The Heights is a no-holds-barred exposé of suburbia and the strains of marriage and childrearing, but Hedges deftly transforms this weighty subject matter into an addictive blend of melodrama carefully balanced with comedy; it takes real skill to inject levity into the Welches’ narrative, without ever becoming glib or insensitive, and thankfully Hedges is up to the task. His writing helps elevate a relatively simple story, creating a novel that is devilishly delightful. Given past precedence, it wouldn’t be surprising if The Heights one day graces a theater near you, but this is definitely one book you’ll want to read before seeing the movie.

Stephenie Harrison writes from Nashville.

Imagine a distant future in which the job you hold and your social position—not to mention who you can marry—depend critically on the colors you are able to see. Such is the world in which Eddie Russet finds himself in Jasper Fforde’s latest novel, Shades of Grey.

After an ill-advised marriage greatly depleted the Russet family’s Red vision several generations ago, the Russets have struggled over the years to regain their social standing and vibrant Red perception through carefully planned marriages with other high-standing Reds. In this vein, it is Eddie’s fiercest hope that he can win the hand of Constance Oxblood, who is practically Red royalty, and take over her family’s string business. All this changes, however, when a foolhardy prank gets Eddie and his father sent to the Outer Fringes, where Eddie encounters a lowly Grey named Jane. In the blink of an eye, Eddie is irrevocably in love. Eddie soon learns that it will take a lot more than poor poetry to curry Jane’s favor, and her friendship may mean often running afoul of authority. In his attempts to lessen her hostility towards him, Eddie’s blinders begin to lift and he finally begins to see beyond red to something far more dangerous: the Truth.

Sounds zany and outlandish? It is! Fforde’s novels are akin to a Monty Python episode put to print, or a Salvador Dalí painting brought to life, and readers who are able to suspend their disbelief are in for a breathtaking and illuminating literary adventure. When the pieces of Fforde’s tricky puzzle fall into place, the resultant climax is an explosive kaleidoscope of emotion that will startle and unsettle, while also igniting a desperate need to nab the next volume in this dazzling new series. With romance, adventure, conspiracies and plenty of laughs, Shades of Grey is high-energy storytelling that offers something for every reader.

Stephenie Harrison writes from Nashville.

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Read an interview with Jasper Fforde about Shades of Grey.