I would just like to inform you that I am cranky this morning and there are sizeable bags underneath my eyes. Oh yes, I knew it was a bad idea to start reading your newest book, Caught, late in the afternoon.  Bad idea, bad idea, yet I still couldn’t resist and I continued not resisting until sometime after midnight. And the first line? I knew opening that red door would destroy my life? Was there really any way I could not be sucked into the story? I would like to say, for the record, I figured out the mystery around page 150. Then again on page 250 and again forty pages after that and finally the light dawned on page 438, the last one. Is that really quite fair, Mr. Coben? To write a book so filled with twists, turns and loop de loops that the poor reader is never sure until the very last paragraph wherein lies the truth? And the characters, Mr. Coben. Perhaps you could throw in a few of the cardboard variety instead of these fully fleshed, fully flawed types hiding secrets that are delicately teased out over the course of this maddening novel? Really, Mr. Coben, is it strictly necessary to toy with the reader in this way? And the absolute crumb on the cake, Mr. Coben, was the cruel way you inserted the chapter of Live Wire, your next installment, at the back. That was just beyond the pale. Imagine how many hours of sleep I’m going to lose  over that one. Please, Mr. Coben, at least have the decency to put a warning on the cover. DO NOT START THIS BOOK LATE IN THE DAY. Tired readers all over America will thank you.

Sincerely,

Dana Mentink

Skeeter, a young college graduate, begins to ponder such thoughts in her hometown of Jackson, Mississippi. It’s 1962 and the lines are strongly drawn dividing whites and blacks. In her novel, The Help, Kathryn Stockett paints a vivid portrait of life on both sides of that divide through characters like Aibileen, a black domestic, who has spent a lifetime loving the children she tends, until those children are old enough to adopt the prejudiced beliefs of their parents. Aibileen’s friends are passionate, long suffering, sassy, smart and their experiences are alternately horrific and hilarious. Equally as fascinating are the  white characters they serve and endure, the insufferable Miss Hilly and her Home Help Sanitation Initiative and the tackily dressed Miss Celia ,who wants desperately to fit in, yet cannot grasp the unwritten rules of Jackson society.

In a tempestuous time when black civil rights leaders are being murdered and the price of rebellion is often death, Skeeter embarks on a bold plan, to pen a book of stories detailing the experiences of black domestics. The risk unthinkably high; discovery will mean social annihilation for Skeeter and ruin for her black co conspirators. The characters are searingly real on both sides of the racial divide and the plot twists and unexpected revelations keep the reader mesmerized through all four hundred plus pages. Stockett’s work is graceful and vivid, a riveting journey into a world where human potential is limited but the courage to dream of a better way is not.

I’ve heard it said that Christian fiction is trite, predictable, preachy with too perfect characters leading too perfect lives. Holmes avoids all those stereotypical pitfalls. Her protag is real, so real that she reacts to her situation with anger, resentment, and completely believable mistakes. Isabella’s father David is a frustrating, arrogant man whose selfishness gets in the way of his potential relationship with his daughter. The gritty, real life characters take their own wobbly steps towards reconciliation, sometimes forward, sometimes back. There is no deus ex machina to provide a miraculous rescue or cure and therein lies the real strength of the novel. It is a poignant, beautifully written story of a woman coming to terms with her earthly life and the true meaning of salvation.

“Unlike your typical Western overscheduling soccer mom, the Chinese mother believes that 1) schoolwork always comes first; 2) an A-minus on a test is a bad grade; 3) your children must be two years ahead of their classmates in math; …………………..6) the only activities your children should be permitted to do are those in which they can eventually win a medal: and 7) that medal must be gold.

Are you sitting up straighter now? Nothing like a little cultural stereotyping to make one pay attention. I gave a whole lot of attention to  Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. It’s an account of the harrowing journey of  a Chinese American mother of two girls who sets out to raise exceptional children who will soar above the average Western kid in both academics and musical talent. It’s a goal she undeniably accomplishes. She believes whole heartedly that her duty to her children is to teach them that success is the way to happiness, avoiding the Western value system that stresses individual autonomy and freedom. Chua propels her children through marathon daily practice sessions (even when they are on vacation), math drills and a lack of playdates or socializing. She is critical of her girls to the point that some Westerners might classify it as verbally abusive. I found myself alternately angry, exasperated and oddly sympathetic with this parent who couldn’t be more different than I. Her parenting style foments  an out and out rebellion when her younger daughter reaches the teen years.

I wanted to discount the lessons of the Chinese mother, to dismiss them as harsh and rigid to the point of ridiculous. I wanted to deny the fact that many Western parents are too lenient with their children, encouraging a sort of false self esteem and enabling laziness in their kids, but sterotypes sometimes do hide the whiff of truth. Somehow, I came away from the book with an understanding that at the core both Chinese and Western mothers share the overhwelming desire to give their children the best life possible. While the Western parent respects the individual (perhaps to the point of sacrificing a child’s potential), the Chinese parent believes in arming the child with skills (perhaps to the point of denying a child their childhood). The juxtaposition of the two alternate view points makes for a fascinating read which gives the reader food for thought about what it means to be a parent.

It is a good book indeed that can appeal to young and not so young, with enough adventure, scares and moral victories to satisfy all. Job well done, Mr. Higson.