Sue Williams Williams itibaren Rudausiai, Litouwen
I read the author's Pulitzer winning book "Gilead" several years ago (before I started writing these summaries) and liked it a lot. I didn't realize at first this was basically the same story, told from the perspective of another family. Both Robert Boughton and John Ames are ministers in rural Iowa, though from different churches, and both struggle with some very real-world personal challenges. In this book the Boughton family are the central characters. Robert is old, retired, fading. His daughter Glory lives with him and cares for him, and we get the sense of his life approaching its end. Then the estranged and prodigal brother Jack reappears. The book is a wonderful, tender look at issues of family, mistakes, judgment, forgiveness, understanding, atonement, and love. I wish I had read the two books in closer succession; maybe a re-reading in a few years will give that opportunity.
This book is funny!
I was charmed by the first sentence: "I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods," though I could not help mentally drawing a line through "where" with my imaginary (and compulsive and annoying) red pen, which tells you I don't agree with reviewers who have ruled every word of this story perfect. In a couple of places I found myself wondering if an editor actually read it. For example, when (big surprise) I happened upon an actual error, and not the allowed sort that can be attributed to narrative voice, poetic license, or character, not when the narrator is a writer. He writes: "I . . . felt as badly for Holly, every iota, as she could feel for herself." Should be: felt bad. These things happen, nobody's perfect (not even Truman Capote), and this is still a lovely story worth reading on a rainy afternoon curled up with the cat. It's a fine example of a simple tale well told. But (as so many reviewers have claimed) a masterpiece??? I think it is called a masterpiece because of who wrote it, not because of the writing. The writing does not approach the caliber of "In Cold Blood," which I do consider a masterpiece. Granted, they are entirely different works, but I was hoping for something as exceptionally crafted. Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in the movie version strikes me as brilliant, but nothing about the written Holly Golightly strikes me likewise. I have heard Capote hated the movie, and I wonder if maybe that's because Audrey's character bested his. I'm not sure I'd have felt as compelled by the story were I not picturing Audrey as Holly throughout.