3.5 stars in my sky
Here we go again. While everyone else is sparkly happy because they’re seeing a zillion stars, I’m sort of grumpy, because all I can see in my sky are 3 stars, no matter how much I squint. Well, three-and-a-half stars, if I’m being fair. Sigh. Funny, the blurb and the glowing reviews are so good, they almost convince me that I loved the book. But then I get real—it wasn’t a wow for me, it just wasn’t.
This is the story of an old man named Maurice, who, while sitting on a barstool, toasts the five most important people in his life. Maurice’s life has lots of regret, guilt, and grief, as well as some everlasting love. The cool thing about Maurice is that he’s self-aware. He’s quick to see his faults and failures—and he’s apologetic. It’s impossible not to like the guy. He has a plan, which is obvious from the beginning. It doesn’t ruin it that you know what’s going on.
Griffin is an excellent writer; the language is sophisticated and the sentences sound so good together. The tone is enticing and never sentimental. It’s a cool structure—Maurice sitting on a barstool, telling us all about his life, delving into the personalities and interactions of those he loves. The first-person narration made me feel all cozy. And talk about depth of character! Check that box off! We get to see how complex Maurice is, but we see what makes the other characters tick, too. Well, there’s one exception: Maurice’s sister-in-law, Noreen. She seems stereotypical, and the dialogue and situations involving her are predictable and flat. Plus (and I’m going to be vague here to avoid spoilers) going into it I assumed her problem was one thing, but in fact it was something else. I think this should have been made clearer at the beginning.
It was a rough start for me because of the opening paragraph. It bugged me beyond belief. Okay, I know it’s the editor in me. How could none of Griffin’s editors have seen it?? It’s the first few sentences, for God’s sake. All eyes should be on it. Okay, I’ll stop my whining and explain what the hell I’m talking about.
Here’s the opening paragraph:
“Is it me or are the barstools in this place getting lower? Perhaps it’s the shrinking. Eight-four years can do that to a man, that and hairy ears.”
You win the prize if you can figure out what the eff my problem is. Okay, here’s the deal. The shorter you get, the HIGHER the barstools. I swear to God. Trust me. I’m short, and my whole life I’ve complained about tall furniture (what’s blissfully normal to you regular-sized people). This includes counter tops, kitchen shelves, etc., and they’re total pains. I’ve never liked having to climb onto a barstool, or any stool for that matter, but now that I’m an old fart, it’s way worse. Yes, I know, the mere act of climbing is the big problem, but the shorter you are, the more daunting the task and the higher the mountain. Feet hanging in the air! The shorter you get, the taller everyone and everything else look, including barstools!!
I must have reread that opening a dozen times, working myself into quite a tizzy. Spatial relations aren’t my strong suit—you’d be smart not to ask me to be the navigator on our next car trip, and if you do, don’t you dare stare in disbelief as I turn the map upside-down to make sense of it. So trying to visualize the barstools and vantage points in the story was not easy or pleasurable. But I am convinced that the opening text is all wrong. I will listen intensely if anyone tells me I’m full of it, but they’ll have to explain it in way simple terms.
No, I wasn’t so bratty as to give this book 3 stars because of the opening. The reason I only saw 3 stars in the sky is because I was bored reading most of the book. Great sentences and great characters don’t always mean you’re going to be grabbed and be gleefully held hostage. Bottom line, it was a chore to read and I wanted it to be over already so I could pick up my next book. I will say that the last toast, to his wife, Sadie, did pull me in and I did look forward to picking the book up at that point. I was emotional and attached when reading about Maurice and Sadie’s relationship. That’s why I added the half star.
Now that I’ve gone all editor on you, I will say there was one other small logistical problem about some tea that was about to spill. Super minor, but problems like that are annoying. And then we have the “Sadie and me went somewhere” instead of the correct “Sadie and I went somewhere.” I realize that the author was going for authenticity—so many people say it wrong, and so does Maurice. It’s just that the wrong was everywhere, and I don’t know, I think if readers hear it wrong a zillion times, they’ll think that’s correct English and more people will repeat the crime. It grated on my nerves every time I read it. But this is just me, folks, being a pain.
Would I check out this new author’s next book? I think so. Am I sorry I read this one? I am not. Griffin is a good storyteller; maybe her next one will wow me.
Thanks to NetGalley for the advance copy.
Update: Barstool beef resolved!
Thanks to several smart and kind people who left comments, I am no longer baffled by barstools! Thank you thank you thank you! Turns out, it’s all about perspective. I was stuck seeing the barstools from a standing position. Then, oh yes, they look super high up as you prepare for the Mt. Everest climb. But the author’s perspective was different: she was talking about Maurice’s view while sitting on the barstool.
Okay, so sit on the stool. If you’ve gotten shorter with age, the bar is going to be higher up than when you sat there all younger and taller. The bar maybe was at your waist before, but now it’s at chest level. It would seem to you as if the stool had gotten lower, an illusion. Seems so obvious to me, now, lol. In my defense, it would have helped if the author had made it clear that Maurice was already on the stool. I’m spatially impaired, so I need some accommodation! On the other hand, I probably should have deduced he was sitting, like everyone else did. Mystery solved, yahoo!