I need to focus and actually write this. It’s been a busy week — M and C started school; it’s going well and it looks like we may become the proud parents of a cello (player) — and I’ve been meaning to get down to write this (shoot, we have DSL now; you think it would be easier) all week.
So. Gap Creek. By Robert Morgan. One of those Oprah books (I’ve yet to have a good experience with them.) Actually, it was for my church’s bookgroup (yay! a book group!) that I read it. And, it’s not bad. I kind of liked it. The story: Julie lives in the North Carolina Appalachian mountains in the late 1800s. She watches her brother and her father die. She works hard. She meets Hank, falls in love, moves to Gap Creek, South Carolina. Where she proceeds to Live Life. All sorts of trials happen: the man they live with is crumudgeony, he dies, they get swindled out of money, Hank is moody, the mother-in-law is cranky, the house floods, she delivers a premature baby, baby dies, and they Move On. There. Now you don’t have to read it.
I shouldn’t make fun of it. It really wasn’t a bad sort of time spent. It’s just that I’ve read similar stories that were written much better. And resonated much better. Which I think is the real problem here. Morgan put Julie through the paces, but I’m not sure if he ever really felt her. (Which begs the question: can men really write women well? Conversely, can women accurately write men?) If he did, I’m missing something, because I sure didn’t. But then, as we know, I often miss the boat on these Meaningful and Moving books.