Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I finished listening to Helen Simonson’s The Summer Before the War today, and I’m a bit conflicted about it.  Her first novel, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, was full of gradual awakenings and even more gradual comeuppances; I remember asking Britt if the ending was satisfying, because if certain characters weren’t going to get what they deserved, I was going to be too irritated to put in the time to finish it.  She assured me I was safe to keep reading, and the ending was every bit as satisfying as she promised it would be.  The ending of The Summer Before the War, sadly, was not quite as satisfying–AND, in my opinion, the title was misleading.  WWI more or less begins about 115 pages into a 473 page novel, which means that a full three quarters of the book takes place during the war.  That makes it, overall, a war novel, which of course means that people die at the end, including some of the people to whom you have grown attached.  There are some comeuppances to be had, but just as much tragedy. (Come to think of it, both the title and the cover art belie the actual story.)

Of course, Simonson can undoubtedly write, and write well.  She has the Austenian gift of conveying what is real during the course of a polite conversation that studiously avoids reality at all costs; one laughs, cringes, grinds one’s teeth, and generally experiences an impressively wide range of emotions during all of those conversations.  There’s a bit of Agatha Christie’s England here as well–I wasn’t surprised to learn that her autobiography was part of Simonson’s period research.  Indeed, if I had expected a war novel, with all of the tragedy that implies, I would likely have come away–in general–very impressed.  (I say in general because a few bits of the falling action felt suddenly rushed, as if the fast forward button had been inadvertently pushed during a couple of scenes.  The pacing of the rest of the novel made the contrast noticeable.)  As it was, I felt a bit betrayed by what the novel became.  It’s absolutely worth reading when you know what you’re getting into, mind you–just don’t expect the same kind of reading experience as Major Pettigrew.

(Please forgive the proliferation of double dashes and such–I’m a bit tired to be writing this sort of review.  As for the tendency towards a bit of British-ness in the writing, this was a 15 hour long audiobook.  These things happen.)