I first read this book in 1985 as an escapist summer read during a difficult time. I got rid of it, but couldn't remember why. I recalled it as a warm multi-generational saga with interesting characters and story lines. I remembered excusing the racist and one-sided political attitudes as a historically accurate reflection of the place and times.
Re-reading it 31 years later, I remember why I got rid of it.
Had the author stuck to the basic concept of the personal story lines over the generations, I could have accepted the attitudes. The family stories, friendships, and personal events are every bit as charming on rereading as they were the first time.
But this time, 31 years older, I noticed things I did not the first time around.
First of all, this book was in desperate need of proofreading. The number of typos was frankly distracting.
It also needed some heavy substantive editing. Ninety percent of the endless details about rope-making and politics should have been cut to make what remained far more compelling and enjoyable and the entire book about half as long. A bit of detail, yes, for context and historical accuracy. But there were pages and pages and endless bloody pages of details about rope-making and politicking that just bogged the story down. That said, I couldn't help but admire the amount of research the author must have done, even if it hindered rather than helped her storytelling.
I also wish the author had spared us her often heavy-handed, judgmental, one-sided political and moral editorializing. A realistic reflection of attitudes of the time and place is fine, but as the book progressed, she began lapsing into unsubtle preachiness, with minimal to no insight into why anyone might hold an opposing view. The author used her book as a soapbox for what were glaringly her personal views, and I found myself too often literally rolling my eyes.
The story head-hops a good deal, and for the most part, the author does this well. The reader is treated to many different points of view, making it easier to understand characters and motivations. The author's grasp of psychology for characters with values similar to her own is actually pretty good, which helps bring them to life for the reader; however, her lack of a similar level of insight into contrasting characters often flattened certain story sections into shallow, clichéed platitudes.
The head-hopping is also where the racist, homophobic, and other prejudiced attitudes of the author become apparent and make the book uncomfortable to read. It's not the attitudes of the characters that reflect this, but the sin of omission--the characters who never get a voice, whose heads are never hopped into.
The Irish get a very light touch. We certainly never hop into a lesbian character's head; we're just left to judge her for the pain she brings on others, while her pain seems to not matter at all. Anyone who challenges the conservative status quo gets a "straw man" treatment; they are in the story only as cardboard façades to enable those the author agrees with to put them in what she thinks ought to be their place. The black characters get all of their dialogue written in heavy Southern accents (while white Southern characters do not) and their characters exist only in the context of their relationships with their white employers. We never hop into any of their heads either, but are asked to be indulgently amused or indignantly judgmental when they object to heavily demanding tasks.
Yes, the fundamental characters of the women in the club and their personal stories are charming, if heavily rose-tinted (which, after all, is what escapist reading is all about). I could see the book appealing to straight, white, conservative Christians. But for me, the book doesn't stand up to the numerous flaws that made re-reading it such a challenge. I doubt any LGBT or non-white people would read "... And Ladies of the Club" with any sense of nostalgia. I'm straight and white, but often found myself cringing with shame and hoping I didn't die with this book on my bedside table.
I forced myself to finish the entire 1.4K+ pages of the paperback only because I know I will never read it again, nor will I ever again forget why.