Saturday, February 25, 2012
Ella is the stepmother, and Paige is the birth mother. Paige lives in busy Las Vegas while Ella and the kids live in Northern California, in a sleepy little town where their father's family has been for several generations. Ella thinks it's unfair for Paige to expect to take the kids full-time, uprooting them from everything they have ever known, but Paige has the law on her side. What's really the best thing for the kids?
The Underside of Joy addresses the issue of motherhood. Does giving birth automatically mean certain unalienable rights, or does the nurture of a stepmother mean she also has some rights? The courts might have one opinion, but the family involved has another.
What is family anyway? After her husband's unexpected death, Ella finds out the family store has been going under for months, perhaps years. She has in-laws to support her decision to try and turn things around, and things go smoothly until she makes a choice that keeps Paige permanently in the picture. The in-laws are suddenly furious that, even though Paige is the children's mother, their grandkids will be taken away from them. They never liked Paige, and they adore Ella. Which woman is considered part of the family?
The family's anger stems from an incident little talked-about in American history, and Ella finally confronts them and learns their secret. Paige has a secret too, one that led her to abandon her children at very young ages, but Ella also has been carrying around a secret for nearly thirty years. The Underside of Joy is also about the messes we make when we don't talk about what is really going on inside out heads.
Sere Prince Halverson is a mom and stepmom herself, and one can imagine her asking, What if something similar happened to her and she was forced to choose between her stepchildren and their birth mother? How would two grieving women handle custody? Halverson writes tenderly, mostly from Ella's point of view as the book is in first person, but also with understanding on Paige's behalf. There is no black and white here, just many shades of grey.
I thought the turning incident was rather predictable, which led to a rushed ending. And I'm not fond of epilogues as I don't necessarily need everything neatly tied up, but these are minor flaws in an otherwise excellent book. It's not exactly fast-paced, yet it kept me up late because I could not stand to put it down. I simply had to read one more chapter, then one more, and just one more.
I was reminded of another book that deals with the definition of motherhood, Mothers and Other Liars. You can check out a little bit about it at the end of my blog post on When We Were Friends, which addresses a similar issue but in a way that didn't impress me. However, feel free to check out all three books if this topic is of interest.
Friday, February 3, 2012
A teenaged boy is killed one morning on the way to school. There is very little evidence to go on in terms of chasing suspects, no murder weapon, no physical traces of DNA, no witnesses. There is one bloody fingerprint on the victim's clothing, however, and it is from this single clue that the investigators find their only possibility. The suspect is a classmate of the murdered boy, and his father happens to be the district attorney handling the case.
Andy Barber tells the story, both in first person and through transcripts of a grand jury hearing. He seems blind to the fact that his son Jacob could be capable of killing and constantly protests his innocence. He doesn't see a conflict of interest in his taking the case, even after Jacob is accused of the crime. Andy even hunts down another man, trying to force fellow lawyers into believing that this other guy must be guilty. He goes from lead prosecutor to assistant to the defense in order to clear his son's name.
Andy's wife Laurie doesn't handle the situation well. She loses weight and can't sleep. She ages quickly through the six months between crime and trial. She believes in her son, but she can't help but wonder if maybe Jacob is guilty, or at least is capable of violence. She questions her parenting and all the choices she made during Jacob's childhood.
Jacob is a typical teenaged boy...or is he? He's moody, ego-centric, something of a loner, addicted to the Internet. But he seems to be just a little moodier, more ego-centric, friendless, and Internet-focused than his peers. Is this a bad thing? Did he really contemplate murder in his own quiet way?
There are several instances of foreshadowing throughout the story, and they point to what happens after the trial. In the space of a few pages at the end of the book, we find out that some of the Barber family members are quite capable of unimaginable things.
Defending Jacob will appeal to suspense fans, perhaps less so to straight mystery fans because there is less procedure and more courtroom drama, but for those readers willing to branch out, do give this book a try. The plot doesn't move quickly, yet somehow the book is still a page-turner. You'll probably question a lot by the time the true psyches of the characters are revealed. Fans of character studies should enjoy the book also. There is one narrator--who is rather unreliable--but the author still manages to get inside the heads of other characters: The reader is able to see the actions of all the characters and judge whether Andy's impressions are correct or not. It's a genre-bending book, but it definitely has elements of suspense and of the psychological thriller. Do read it.