After reading Christmas Jars by Jason F. Wright, I vowed never to choose this author again (you can read my "scathing" review of the book here). Then, I started hearing some buzz about Wright's newest novel, Recovering Charles. My reader's brain went, "Hmmm ... Could I be missing something here?" Then, a few people (including my mom) recommended I read it. Still, I refused. When the leader of my book club (an enthusiastic Wright fan) selected it for last month's read, I realized I was done for - I stopped resisting, and read the darn thing. And guess what? Much to my surprise, it wasn't half bad.

The story stars Luke Millward, a photographer living in New York City. Luke's life is good, if a bit hollow. His career is going well, he's got a nice apartment and a beautiful best friend who would love to be more. Luke's future is almost bright enough to outshine the pain of his past. Then, he receives a phone call that brings old anguish screaming into the present: His father is missing. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Charles Millward is nowhere to be found.

Although Charles' friend, Jerome, begs Luke to come to New Orleans to search for his father, Luke hesitates. After all, they haven't spoken since the last time Charles called pleading for money. He said he'd try to quit, promised to stick with AA this time, but Luke had cut him off, told his father not to contact him again. Once a "brilliant musician," (2) who "bled his heart through [his] saxophone" (159), the old man had disintegrated into a drunken, musical failure, saddled with debt and heartbreak. He communicates with his son for one reason only: money. Now, the older man is missing, possibly dead. Luke can't quite convince himself not to care, so he heads out to New Orleans.

In the ravaged, desperate city Luke finds a refuge in Verses, the bar where Charles played saxophone to pay the rent. The Verses family - including Charles' fiancee, his musician buddies, and a pretty Tulane student - describe a Charles Luke never knew. Is it possible the old man really changed his ways? Luke ponders the question as he sifts through Katrina's detritus to find his father. Is Charles alive or dead? Will Luke get a chance to reconcile with his old man? Does he even want to? As Luke grapples with his emotions, the most compelling question emerges - Who, really, is lost, and who, truly, needs to be found? In a crumbling city, Luke must launch a desperate search to find the answers - for his father and for himself.

The kind of sentimentality that ruins Christmas Jars exists here, but it's balanced by a gritty backdrop and the raw emotion devastation usually inspires. The story's ultimately hopeful, but also painfully realistic. I found the main characters likeable (although Luke was a little cold for me), even though they could have been fleshed out more. Too many minor characters overwhelm the reader, stealing focus from the major players. I also think Wright verges on preachy when he tries to make certain points - like the fact that not all of Katrina's victims were poor and uneducated - and this also distracts from the story. Wright does deserves kudos for an unexpected, (although still somewhat predictable) ending, which made me cry despite some cheesy overtones.

All in all, though, I found Recovering Charles a compelling and inspirational read. It's a much better effort than Christmas Jars, probably because it actually required effort. Since I'm nothing if not forgiving, I even put Wright's The Wednesday Letters back on my TBR list. I'm hoping for another pleasant surprise.

Grade: B

The first chapter of Marcia Preston's The Butterfly House sucker-punched me with its intensity and mystery. After such an intriguing opening, I just couldn't resist reading the rest of the book. None of the subsequent sections were quite as compelling as the first, but still...it was an engrossing read.

As the novel opens, Roberta Dutreau hides in her isolated home, surrounded only by snowy hills. When she spies a stranger turning up her driveway, she panics, opening the door only when the man addresses her by her childhood nickname, Bobbie Lee. Despite his use of her nickname, Roberta has never met this man before. She recognizes his face only from a photograph her friend Cincy kept by her bedside, a "photograph from years ago, a young man in a uniform with the same black eyes - my best friend's missing father" (11). The man, Harley Jaines, has come with one purpose - to compell Roberta to tell the truth about a horrific event in her past that landed Cincy's mother in prison. Roberta, who has only recently climbed out of the pit of her own insanity, knows she can't revisit her past without risking another downward spiral. Yet, the door to her past has been opened and her mind won't let her close it.

Shaken from her encounter with Harley, Roberta climbs into her car and begins the long journey to Spokane, where Lenora Jaines - Harley's lover and Cincy's mother - resides in a women's prison. As she drives, Roberta's mind combs over her childhood in Shady River, Oregon, a small town on the Columbia River. When Roberta moves there as a child, her life is bleak and lonely. Her mother, Ruth, cleans hotel rooms by day and drinks herself into a coma by night. Roberta finds her salvation in Cincy Jaines, a vibrant girl who takes the new girl under her wing. When Roberta visits Cincy's home, she feels more at home there than anywhere. She is particularly attracted by the house's glassed-in porch, where plants and butterflies are cultivated by Cincy's scientist mother, Lenora. As Roberta and Cincy spend more and more time together, Lenora becomes Roberta's pseudo mother, a relationship which deepens as Roberta shows increasing interest in Lenora's scientific projects. Not only does Cincy become envious of their relationship, but Ruth is so jealous she accuses Roberta and Lenora of being lesbians. The anger that blossoms between the women erupts in a violent act that leaves Ruth dead, Roberta in a mental hospital, Lenora in prison and Cincy on the run. When Roberta emerges from the facility, she marries, moves to Canada and tries to put the entire situation behind her. She has done so with relative success until Harley Jaines shows up on her doorstep.

When Roberta finally arrives in Spokane, Lenora warns her to keep quiet about their past. Roberta is only too glad to comply, until she realizes that even she doesn't know what really happened that night. As she searches for her own answers, Roberta must confront her demons and decide if she can save Lenora and, ultimately, herself.

Marcia Preston delivers a major punch in the first chapter, then weaves the past and present together expertly throughout the rest of the book to create a compelling, suspenseful story. It's a bit predictable - I guessed several of the "secrets" long before Roberta did - but I still found the book engrossing. It's not warm and fuzzy by any means; in fact, it's downright bleak, but the story is ultimately about truth and redemption. I can't say I loved it, but I did find The Butterfly House an engrossing read.

Now, you know I always have weird issues with the books I read. Like I said, a lot of this novel takes place in a small, fictional town on the Oregon side of the Columbia River. The story describes Cincy and Roberta biking across a bridge to the Washington side to pick up groceries. This detail bugged me because I grew up in this exact sort of town (although it was real and on the Washington side), and the idea of two little girls biking across a bridge to Oregon is a little unrealistic. All the bridges I've crossed in this part of Washington/Oregon are very high and very narrow. Although people do bike across them occasionally, I have NEVER seen children doing it. Furthermore, I would NEVER allow any child to make such a dangerous trip. So, yeah, that detail bugged me through the whole book. I told you it was a small, weird thing.

So, anyway, I'm giving this book a B+ because it's a little predictable and some of the situations seem unrealistic. Overall, though, it's a well-written and interesting story.

After 31 years of unremarkable living, pint-sized Cornelia Brown is ready for a little drama. So, when Martin Grace, a debonair Cary Grant clone, walks into the coffee shop she manages, she embraces the winds of change that seem to blow in with him. Martin is, after all, movie star perfect. Okay, he's older, emotionally distant and not that great in bed, but Cornelia really wants to be in love with him. Before she has time to contemplate their relationship further, Martin re-enters the shop with a child in tow. A child who, in Cornelia's opinion, "[looks] fierce and furious and terrified and bottomlessly sad. No one would need to ask this girl if her heart had been broken" (97). Turns out, the girl is Clare, Martin's 11-year-old daughter. A daughter Martin has never mentioned and clearly has very little to do with. Because she so obviously needs it, Cornelia enfolds the child in her arms. Later, she learns that Clare's mother, Viviana, has deserted her daughter, flitting off to Barcelona with no explanation. Cornelia immediately takes the girl under her wing, causing the awkward Martin tremendous relief. Adding "bad father" to her growing list of reasons she can't be with Martin, Cornelia throws her efforts into healing Clare. Cornelia, along with her brother-in-law, Teo, create an unlikely "family" for the child, who comes to trust them more than her own parents. While the three are content with the arrangement, they know it can't last. And it doesn't. Tragedy strikes, leaving Clare's future in further jeopardy. Cornelia's bond with Clare is so strong, she can't bear the thought of losing the girl, a separation that is heartbreaking, but inevitable. In the end, Cornelia must decide just how far she's willing to go not only for the love of a man, but also for the love of a child.

So, after staying up all night reading Mary Higgins Clark's new book (see review below), I picked up Chris Bohjalian's The Double Bind, thinking it would be a more leisurely read. I even told my husband, "Don't worry, this one isn't as exciting as the last one. I won't have to stay up all night reading it." Well, guess what? I was wrong. Although it started out slowly, it turned into an extremely compelling book that I was very reluctant to put down.

It tells the story of Laurel Estabrook, a young social worker, who comes across a box of old photos left behind by a homeless man. The photographs were obviously taken by someone with great expertise, and Laurel becomes obsessed with learning how the homeless man went from successful photojournalist to penniless transient. Her search leads her to the Gatsby Family (yes, the Gatsbys, figments of F. Scott Fitzgerald's imagination), where devastating family secrets abound. The obsession takes its toll on Laurel, already emotionally fragile from a vicious attack she suffered several years earlier. Her friends and family are frightened for her, but she refuses to give up her all-consuming quest for the truth. The ending is a shocker (which I won't give away), but it will change the way you view the whole novel.

Like I said before, the first part of the novel was a little slow. Plus, I was thrown off by the inclusion of the Gatsbys in the story (although it makes sense later in the book). I almost abandoned the whole novel, but out of loyalty to Bohjalian, I stuck with it. I'm glad I did, because it turned into a fast-paced, absorbing read. Once I got over Bohjalian's resurrection of the Gatsbys, I enjoyed the search for their deep, dark family secrets. While I didn't stay up all night, I did finish the book in a day, so deeply was I enthralled with Laurel's story.

My only beef with the book is the ending, which is hard to discuss without ruining the surprise. I can only say that it ruined the story for me, because it felt like such a cheap finale. Also, I'm not sure the clues Bohjalian sprinkled throughout the story really were strong enough to support the ending. It's one of those you-either-love-it-or-you-hate-it kind of things.

Despite the ending, I thought The Double Bind was a great read. It also provides an interesting (though somewhat preachy) perspective on homelessness. Pick it up - you won't be disappointed (except, maybe by the ending).

I'm probably the last person on Earth to read Olive Ann Burns' Cold Sassy Tree, but now that I have I can see why this novel has become such a classic. It's a book with a little bit of everything - humor, romance, tragedy and redemption. The story is told by Will Tweedy, a 14-year-old boy who finds himself smack dab in the middle of the biggest scandal the small town of Cold Sassy, Georgia, has ever witnessed. The buzz begans on July 5, 1906, when Will's grandfather, E. Rucker Blakeslee, elopes with the local milliner, a younger woman and a Yankee to boot. As if that isn't bad enough, Rucker's wife of several decades has been dead for less than three weeks! Scandalized, the townspeople shun Rucker's new wife as a low-class golddigger, and proceed to make her existence a miserable one. Both Rucker and Love have too much pride to let the town unrattle them, so they proceed to cause even more uproar by holding their own church services at home, buying a motorcar, and taking a luxurious trip to New York City. Will's caught in the middle, torn by loyalty to his outrageous grandfather and his obedience to his pious father and scandalized mother. To make matters worse, Will catches Love kissing a strange Texan, and then he finds himself in a similar situation with a no-count millworker. When tragedy strikes Will's family, he is forced to see his colorful grandpa in a different light.

Like I said, this book is laugh-out-loud hilarious, (mostly because of its zany characters and Will's own funny adventures) but it is also surprisingly poignant. Some of the situations are startling and heartbreaking. Overall, it is a vivid and colorful portrait of small-town Southern life that sparkles and shines. Don't miss it!

I just finished Peace Like A River by Leif Enger and, wow, what a book! Honestly, it's the best novel I've read in quite awhile. I loved it.

The story is told by Reuben Land, an 11-year-old asthmatic, whose life changes forever when his older brother, Davy, is jailed for murdering two boys who had been threatening the Land Family. Reuben and his colorful little sister Swede miss their brother terribly, as does their father whose worries take a toll on his health. When Davy's trial takes a turn for the worse, Swede decides it's time to break their big brother out of jail; their plan is foiled when both siblings fall asleep waiting for a chance to sneak out of the house. To their surprise and delight, the family discovers that Davy has broken himself out while they slept. Thus begins their journey to the Badlands in hot pursuit of their outlaw brother. With a federal agent tracking their every move, the Lands follow their hearts and their father's uncanny "inspiration" from the Lord to find their beloved brother.

What really sparkles in this story is the characters. Reuben is helplessly flawed; his cowardice weighs him down, but his honesty makes him true and noble. Swede absolutely sparkles as the imaginative, spunky little sister who can weave tales out of thin air and foil the "putrid fed" by sabotaging him with maple syrup. She is an incredible, irresistible character. Jeremiah Land provides an interesting twist to the story. He is a kind, wise father, who talks regularly with the Lord and reads his King James every morning. In fact, Reuben describes him as a literal miracle-worker, equating him with Jesus Christ Himself. As far-fetched as it sounds, you come to believe Reuben's view of his humble, steadfast father. The Lands are believable, likable and utterly impossible to forget.

If you're looking for a beautiful novel about family, faith, and innocence, pick up Peace Like A River - I promise you won't be able to put it down!

Like all good ghost stories, The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards, begans on a dark, stormy night. In this case, it is also a snowy night, a night when Norah Henry's ob/gyn is stranded by the weather, and her husband is forced to deliver their baby in his own clinic. While Norah sleeps under anesthesia, David discovers that his wife is pregnant with not one, but two babies. The first is a healthy boy, the next a girl obviously afflicted with Down's Syndrome. Shocked, David hands his daughter to a nurse, instructing her to give the child to a local home for the mentally retarded - a standard practice in 1964, but one that will haunt David for the rest of his life. He elects to tell Norah that their daughter died. What David doesn't realize is that the nurse, Caroline Gill, can't bear to leave the newborn baby at an institution. Instead, she takes the baby to Pittsburgh, where the two begin a new life.

Back in Kentucky, the Henrys are haunted by the ghost of their daughter. Despite her happiness with her baby boy, Norah can't get past the immense feeling of loss that seems to accompany her every waking moment. David's relunctance to talk abut the death creates a gulf between he and Norah, a fissure that widens with every passing day. As their son, Paul, grows up, he can feel the tension between them, and mistakenly construes it as his fault.

When a tragedy strikes, the past comes flying into the present, and the Henrys must face the mistake David made so many years ago.

This book is beautifully written, although in a very stark and haunting way. Even Caroline's story, which is supposed to provide a bright counterpoint to the Henrys sad story, is described in a sad, bleak way. The plot is very engrossing and fast-paced, but undeniably sad. Although the book is eventually about redemption, it is ultimately sad and depressing. I thought the book was interesting and very well-written - I just couldn't get over its incredibly bleak tone.