Regular price: $28.51
Buy Now with 1 Credit
Buy Now for $28.51
I was told this story was reminiscent of Rebecca, but I found it very rich in detail, characters were believable and well deveoped. I look forward to another novel from this author. narration was pleasing.
1 of 1 people found this review helpful
This book courted me. It was love at first sight as I wandered the bookshelves of Borders (when Borders still existed). I picked it up, turned it over, read the back, read the first page, and knew instantly I would love it, but I didn’t buy it. I downloaded a sample to my Nook (so I could read the first 30 or so pages) just to be certain I would love it. Over the next year or so, I read little more than the first page, but I read the first page over and over again with the same thought: this is a book I am going to love. Therefore, the conditions under which I read it had to be perfect.
That time never came.
It wasn’t until I needed a new audio-book, that I finally accepted the luring of this novel. I began to listen on a 3 mile run – into the sunset and then back into the starry night. The perfect conditions presented themselves. I had found a new love.
The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson is a Gothic tale of romance, family, secrets, regret, and the power of scent and memories. It is also a very eloquent ghost story. It is chillingly similar to Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. But this isn’t fan-fiction, quite the opposite in fact. The crafting of Lawrenson’s story rivals Kate Morton (a favorite author of mine), and in some respects, I say she outperforms Morton. The language of this book reached my soul, in the same way as Jane Eyre, and Jamaica Inn. Lawrenson’s words are art.
I have a friend who says she can’t stand to read a book that “takes 3 pages to describe the color blue”. This is one of those books. Lawrenson describes color, scent, and flowers in great detail. I happen to love this aspect of The Lantern because I was transported into the story – I could see, touch, and smell everything. As I ran, that first night, to the first chapters of this book, I could have swore I smelled lavender. But if you are like my friend and need the author to tell you, simply: “it was blue”, then this may not be the book for you.
The Lantern merges two stories and two generations of women – Eve, a modern day women drawn to the embrace of an older man, and Bénédicte, who lived in the very house in which Eve now lives during WWII, and worked in the nearby lavender fields. Eve and Bénédicte have never met, but they are inextricably tied to each other by Les Genevriers, a charming farmhouse that holds generations of secrets. It is set in the South of France, and Lawrenson does an excellent job of creating a timeless setting; it isn’t muddled with modern technology, or things and people that anchor a book to the year in which it was written. Readers will connect with this book as well in 2032 as they will in 2012.
The danger in writing from alternating points of view is that the reader will favor one voice, one story, over the other. I loved both Eve and Bénédicte, and understood and empathized with each of them. Each woman struggles with ghosts from the past, some literal, others figurative. Suspicion is prevalent throughout this novel, much in the style of Alfred Hitchcock.
Eve is living at Les Genevriers with Dom, a man who, as much as she is in love with, carries a secret that threatens to ruin their relationship. Dom refused to talk about his previous marriage, of Rachel, his wife. Eve makes a friend in town, a woman who knew Rachel, and who confirms Eve’s suspicions about Dom, and Rachel. Then the bodies of two women are discovered buried beneath the concrete of the old pool they had been restoring, throwing them – specifically Dom – into an center of an investigation. Curiosity, or rather a desperate need to know, leads Eve to push harder and ask questions. It is these questions that provoke the past into the present.
Bénédicte, who is an old woman as she tells her story, lived at Les Genevriers with her family. Her sister Marta achieves great success, although blind, and becomes renowned for making exquisite perfumes. Their brother Pierre is troubled, taunting the girls endlessly in their youth. Tradgedy befalls the family one by one, and Bénédicte becomes the only survivor to the family name. She wonders what she could have done differently to save those she’d loved. Bénédicte dies without ever knowing why her beloved sister left and never spoke to her again.
As Eve’s suspicions of Dom grow, and her investigation of Rachel deepens, she stumbles upon what Rachel had been researching when she was last seen at Les Genevriers – this history of Marthe Lincel, and why Marthe all but disappeared at the very height of her career.
I am giving this book 5 stars. It is beautifully written, a book I can not wait to re-read, and lend-able to all ages. This story has changed me, and remains with me still, days after I finished – in the same way The House at Riverton did. Actually, I have not been able to begin a new book because, right now, nothing will measure up. It has also made me as sure as ever that this statement is true: books find their readers, often times it is just when they need them.
For this and other book reviews, visit my blog online.
1 of 1 people found this review helpful