Publisher: The Story Plant
Expected Publication: April 28, 2015
Pages: 358
Genre: Historical Fiction
Book Description: Mary Jacob grew up as an
anomaly. A child of Louisiana in the early sixties, she found little in
common with most of the people in her community and in her household,
and her best friend was Lavina, the black woman who cooked and cleaned
for her family. Now, in the early nineties, Mary Jacob has escaped her
history and established a fresh, if imperfect, life for herself in New
York. But when she learns of her father's critical illness, she needs to
go back home. To a disapproving father and a spiteful sister. To a town
decades out of alignment with Mary Jacob's new world. To the memories
of Billy Ray, Lavina's son who grew up to be a musical legend whose star
burned much too bright.
And to the echoes of a fateful day three decades earlier when three lives changed forever.
A
decades-spanning story both intimate and enormous in scope, LAVINA is a
novel rich in humanity, sharp in its indictments, and stunning in its
resolution.
Wanda's Thoughts:
Murpheysfield, Louisiana – 1960’s – There was much discrimination and
racial tension during the civil rights era. The black women cleaned,
cooked, and many times raised the children of affluent whites as their
own, before the days of civil rights and integration. The story
demonstrates strong truths about racism during the era of Martin Luther
King.
This book is not just about race, but also the struggle
to find one’s identity and to become accepted. There are strong themes
of heartache, hate, attachment, and love. I must say that I found
slight similarities to The Help by Kathryn Stockett, and yet they were
so different.
The core of the book is formed by three
extraordinary characters, and cleverly gives the story three different
perspectives. The history of the day is dramatically told in their own
distinct voices, which brought the story to vivid life.
Lavina –
A lovable character that exuded strength, and managed to carry on and
care about others despite an unjust system. She loved Mary Jacob like
her own child. She really added humor to the story.
Mary Jacob
hated her father most of her life. She’d always thought of him as
having a hard and rigid heart, and knowing there was no love between
them. The only reliable love and comfort she felt as a child was from
Lavina, the family’s housekeeper. She thought of Lavina as her mother.
Her biological mother was confined to bed because of being ill and there
was very little interaction between them.
Billy Ray, son of
Lavina, and not very likable, had been lonely for most of his fifteen
years. Nobody had been in his life except his mother and he harbored so
much hate and anger in his heart. But as he got older, music became a
huge part of his life and he was finally able to express himself,
putting his thoughts and feelings into his music.
The author
certainly poured her heart and soul into this novel. I was drawn into
the different narrative voices, but one of the most effective aspects of
the book was the use of the vernacular – you can hear the characters
speaking – just excellent!
One negative comment – I didn’t like
the profanity used, especially by Billy Ray, finding it to be offensive,
and it serves no purpose in my opinion. That being said, I found
Lavina to be a compelling, touching, and thought provoking read. Just
excellent! 4+ stars.
I received an advance reading copy of this book from The Story Plant in exchange for an honest review.
About the Author: I was born and raised
in Louisiana, but left for New York after graduating from Tulane. I
worked very hard to get rid of my southern accent, and now I wish I
hadn’t. For many years, I worked in the advertising and fashion
industries for Neiman Marcus, Vogue, Lancome, Faberge and San Rio Toys
where I worked on the Hello Kitty Brand. My short fiction has appeared
in North Atlantic Review, Fiction, Jewish Women’s Literary Journal and
others.
My husband, Joel Goodman and I live in Los Angeles and East Hampton, New York. We have a grown son, Amos Goodman.
Why I Write
Reading
a book has always seemed to me to be the greatest magic trick. You hold
an inanimate object in your hands, you look down and wham, you’re
transported into an entirely different reality. You encounter people you
know instantly and go to places you’ve never been before. Deep reading
is a relationship of complete trust when it’s really working.
To
say my best friends are books may be an exaggeration–but my favorite
books are like best friends: they make me laugh, they entertain me, we
have fun together, I find out appalling things, wonderful things and I’m
continually moved.
I never get sick of them (and books
never get sick of me) unlike my human friends. Books are also very low
maintenance (unlike people) requiring no more than a nice shelf and a
little dusting once in a while. And of course, books don’t have anything
else to do other than hang out with me (unlike my flesh and blood
friends and family who have such busy schedules).
I have an
electronic reader now that I like, but am just a little afraid of, that
stores thousands of books and that seems to me to be both slightly
sinful as well as gluttonous but in the nicest possible way. When I get
in bed with my electronic reader and it lights up the dark, I feel like a
teenager with a flashlight.
All my close friends are so called
creative types; consequently no one really except strangers or half
acquaintances ever ask me why I became a writer. I was thinking about it
this morning why writing has always seemed to me to be the only thing
to do (other than painting or pot throwing or drawing, though I can’t do
any of those) and that’s because writing is the only form of power I
really trust. And doesn’t involve telling other people what to do. Which
I never seem able to do with any kind of authority or enthusiasm.
Fahrenheit 451 is the scariest book that has ever been written.
I’d be insane or dead if it weren’t for books.
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