I usually try to feature at least one seasonal book each December. Having now run though all the obvious stories known to me, I did a bit of trawling for something new and this title jumped out at me. It obviously fitted the seasonal requirement although I didn’t know Beth Moran’s work at all and, to be honest, feared I might find it a bit “pulpy.” In the event I enjoyed it a lot – original idea, strong characters with whom I liked spending time, some darkness offset by plenty of “feel good” which stops short of sentimentality.
Mary is alone in a dingy cottage in Sherwood Forest (apparently most of Moran’s books are set in or around Nottinghamshire’s famous woodland). It is late October. She is heavily pregnant and we realise immediately first, that dreadful things have happened to put her in this position and second, that she is actually in labour for which she is completely unprepared. She calls a taxi and the driver, Beckett can see instantly what’s happening because he happens to have trained as a doctor. They end up in a rather wonderful new age church because they get stuck in traffic and things are happening too fast to make it to the hospital. The baby, Bob, is born there and suddenly Mary is surrounded by some of the loveliest, most caring, least judgemental people I’ve ever met in fiction (or in real life for that matter).
Like Mary, Beckett is damaged by things which have happened to him. He too is friendless and in desperate need of support. Why isn’t he working as a doctor? At home he is single-handedly trying to look after his pretty difficult grandfather who brought him up. Gramps is an engaging character although I’m not totally convinced by his calculatedly feigned dementia. The post-stroke disinhibition is plausible, though. Gradually Beckett and Mary become friends, helping each other in practical ways, and one senses that eventually it will be more than that. And in a book of this sort, all set in the run-up to Christmas, the happy ending is a given although, of course, there are many tantalising lets, hindrances and misunderstandings along the way.
Moran uses a quite interesting split narrative technique between Mary and Beckett, telling his story in the third person and hers in the first so we see things marginally more vividly from her point of view. The reader, of course, is curious to learn what on earth has happened to them both in the past and Moran drip feeds information so that you keep turning the pages. I devoured this book in two days.
I loved the idea of the supportive Coffee Mums Club and was moved by the sobering back stories of these stoical women, all so different but so determined to be there for each other, come what may. Moses, the pastor at the church is a delight – sensible, reliable, understanding and never preachy. He and his wife Sofia have adopted five traumatised children. Then there’s the jolly New Life Community Church Christmas Carol Concert, for which Mary makes the costumes (fashion is her background) thereby finding herself a purpose and making new friends at the same time as caring for Bob.
And the novel works towards reconciliation – with caveats – as the season of goodwill approaches. Mary is estranged both from her chilly parents and the two lifelong friends with whom she developed a highly successful business. Beckett really can’t cope with Gramps any longer not least because hiring in care (I empathised with this – been there, done that) is so fraught with difficulty. Things have to change and they do. The new year promises lots of moving on.
In short this is a thoughtful novel which tells a good yarn and ranges over a wide range of serious issues. One of its themes is forgiveness and that’s spot on for this time of year.
I wish, though, that publishers (Boldwood Books, in this case) would drop the concept of “women’s fiction”. This book has lots of characters of both sexes and isn’t in any sense a book that a man couldn’t read and enjoy. Yes, the leading view point is female but nobody describes Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre or To Kill a Mockingbird as “women’s fiction” so for goodness sake let’s stop categorising.
Next Week on Susan’s Bookshelves: Book of Lives by Margaret Atwood
