I wish the title of this post referred to my kids, but they still have more than a month left of summer vacation! I'm actually referring to myself. I'm preparing to interview two wonderful authors, Robyn Carr and Linda Greenlaw. Because I hate to chat with authors without really knowing their work, I've been doing my homework by reading their books and getting to know their writing styles. So, if you wonder why I haven't been posting, this is why. I'll be publishing my reviews and interviews soon, so stay tuned!

(Image from Karen Neches' official website)

If you think Heaven is all about angels reclining on clouds plucking harps, you might want to think again. In Earthly Pleasures, novelist Karen Neches (who also writes under the name Karin Gillespie) introduces her less-conventional version of what lies beyond the Pearly Gates. Step into her Heaven and you'll find a glowing metropolis ruled by a female Deity who cracks corny jokes in the voice of Bette Midler. Here, souls teleport between work (as greeters, guardian angels, newscasters, etc.), school (where they can enroll in self [soul?]-improvement courses), and play (including cloud art and night clubs, where alcohol exists, but hangovers don't). It's a place where news reports are always positive, zits are nonexistent, and even rebellious angels can't get into too much trouble.

Skye Sebring loves her celestial life. She's got an exciting job as a greeter, a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend, and an endless supply of Hershey's Kisses. Unlike many of Heaven's other residents, she has no interest in Earthly goings-on. That is, until Ryan Blaine steps into her cubicle. Ryan, the handsome son of a former U.S. president, sets hearts atwitter on both Heaven and Earth. Skye's determined not to be impressed, but he captures her attention when he exclaims, "I thought I'd never see you again" (58). Before he has time to explain, Ryan is zapped back to Earth. Skye shakes off the experience - she's never stepped on the planet, so obviously she and Ryan have never met - but she can't quite erase him from her thoughts. Suddenly, her interest in Earthly matters skyrocket.

A series of odd dreams unsettles Skye almost as much as her confusing encounter with Ryan. Then, to her shock, she receives an assignment to "return" to Earth. With no memories of a previous life, Skye begins questioning everything she thought she knew about herself. Who is she, really? And why does a mega-celebrity like Ryan Blaine recognize her?

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Ryan grieves for his wife, Susan. A recent brain injury has left her scarred and altered. In fact, Ryan feels as if he's living with a complete stranger - one who acts nothing like her old self. Their once vibrant relationship has become "like a gorgeous Oriental rug spread over a layer of dust and crud" (149). He wants to mend it, but the more he lives with Susan, the more he's convinced that something is seriously wrong. Ryan's not the only one who suspects things are not exactly as they seem. Miles away, Caroline Brodie can't believe her comatose roomie is a former prostitute and drug addict with no hope of recovery. She sets out to prove the doctors wrong, vowing to wake the young woman whose innocent face just can't be that of a lowlife druggie. Up above, guardian angels work overtime to help the Earthlings figure out the puzzle that will piece together Ryan Blaine's broken heart. With a little Divine Intervention, a whole lot of lonely hearts just might be able to find hope and love.

I enjoy the idea of a Heaven/Earth love connection; unfortunately, Earthly Pleasures doesn't quite deliver on its charming premise. I think Neches' idea of Heaven is fun, if simplistic and underdeveloped. It's when the action moves down to Earth that it becomes predictable, even cliche. I wouldn't have minded this, really, because the book is meant to be light and playful, but it gets so contrived I can hardly stand it. Plus, the plot meanders all over the place, introducing all kinds of subplots that are never quite wrapped up. Even the ending only concludes things on one plane, and ambiguously at that. I really wanted a final chapter explaining what happens to Heaven's residents, especially Chelsea, Rhianna, and Brock. Without this, the story ends too abruptly, never quite coming full circle.

If you can overlook these flaws, you'll find that Earthly Pleasures provides a sweet, hopeful story about the power of love. Just don't expect anything too heavy - this one is as light and airy as a cloud.

P.S. Did I mention how much I love the cover of Earthly Pleasures? It really is divine.

Grade: B-

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

On a stormy night 16 years ago, a mother in the throes of a manic episode dragged her daughters aboard her sailboat. Hurricane-force winds slapped the craft around, stealing control of the vessel. Before the night was over, the ocean claimed the mother, leaving her daughters adrift and terrified. Although the sisters were lucky to escape with their lives, the strange events of that night changed everything. The girls, who were once as close as twins in the womb, became living ghosts. Scared. Haunted. Strangers ...

The Memory of Water by Karen White begins 10 years later, when Marnie Maitland comes home to the South Carolina Lowcountry. She hasn't spoken to her sister Diana for a decade. Still, when Diana's ex-husband Quinn summons her home, she packs her bags and lands in the one spot she never thought she'd be again - her childhood home. She hasn't come for herself, or even for her sister, but for her 9-year-old nephew Gil. The boy has not spoken since the night his mother took him for his own storm-tossed boatride. Quinn hopes that Marnie, who teaches art to special needs students, can help him speak again. Although Marnie's own fears make her want to turn and flee, she knows she must try to help the boy whose terror reminds her so much of her own.

As weeks stretch into months, Marnie feels the distance she so carefully put between herself and home evaporate. Her true self comes back to her, along with repressed memories of the night her mother drowned. She wants to confront Diana, demand to know the truth of what happened, but her sister is dealing with her own demons. Like her mother before her, Diana battles bi-polar disorder. The manic episodes twist her mind, but allow her to paint with brilliance and abandon. Since her boat accident with Gil, Quinn forces her to take her meds in order to see her son. Since he cringes every time she comes near, Diana locks herself in her studio where she produces second-rate pieces she knows to be "the paintings of the drugs and not the true heart of the damaged artist" (69). So, Marnie stays away as well, keeping her distance from her turbulent sister.

Marnie's presence obviously agitates the unstable Diana, who vaccilates wildly between rationality and madness. She raves about the Maitland curse, painting a macabre timeline to document all the tragedies the family has experienced. Diana seems bent on releasing the secrets that are eating her alive, obsessed by stopping the madness before it consumes her son, but how far can she go before her tenuous hold on life slips away? And what of the others? Can they handle the ugly truths hidden in every nook and cranny of the family home? Pandora's Box has opened, and demons are running rampant - will any of them have what it takes to finally bring peace to the troubled Maitlands?

Told from 4 different viewpoints (Marnie, Diana, Gil and Quinn), The Memory of Water tells a complicated story that highlights the very thin line between love and hate. It asks tough questions - What happens when a mother favors one child over the other? Can a child ever survive betrayal by a parent? What is a family to do when mental illness threatens to tear it apart? And, most importantly, can the truth really set us free? These questions are explored through the eyes of a fascinating cast of characters in lovely, lyrical language. Although the plot is surprisingly predictable, the book clips along at a fast pace, propelled by the complexity of the characters and White's gift for speaking directly to the heart. It's compulsively readable, hauntingly beautiful and deeply resonate. I guarantee you won't be able to forget this book.

Grade: A-