Necklace of Kisses

"It's been so extraordinary," said Weetzie. "And I never use that word! Like a magical-realist book or a Fellini movie. I haven't this way in about ten years."

One of the remarkable things about reading almost any Francesca Lia Block novel is the way she is able to make Los Angeles and the Hollywood Hills seem to appear as a place of genuine magic. In spite of what we tend to know better, about smog and violence, pollution and a typically unromantic city, Block is able to make it beautiful.

The book is sequel of sorts of Block's Dangerous Angels series, featuring the punk-rock pixie Weetzie Bat and her diverse cast of friends, lovers and children. Weetzie, as heroine's go, is well meaning and kind. She is simple and self-involved the way most romantic heroine's are: her world is the only thing she needs to know about. But in Necklace of Kisses the world which she has carefully constructed is forced to confront reality. Her boyfriend of 20 years, Max, has spent the two years following September 11, 2001 in a deep funk, and it has literally drained their relationship of joy, love, and kisses. So Weetzie packs the essentials, thinking "what would Audrey [Hepburn] do?" and heads off to a pink hotel in search of her missing kisses. She is chasing a prom night memory, and isn't sure herself what she expects to find.

What does happen is possibly one of the first meta-magic-realism novels I've ever read. In her quest for discovery Weetzie meets a mermaid who has made herself into a Pamela Anderson look-a-like, she meets a fairy, a faun (named Pan, no less), an angel, a spider-woman, a genie and twelve dancing princesses. Many of the characters she meets are manifestations of references that Weetzie herself has made in previous chapters, and almost all of them are exactly what you expect them to be. With each kiss, Weetzie collects a physical gemstone (hence the title). There are very few surprises in Necklace of Kisses, but it doesn't make the book bad.

Necklace of Kisses is far from a perfect book. It is charming and sweet, and takes full advantage of the senses, like any good magic realism novel should. But Weetzie's own awareness of the magic realism aspects of the story in which she is involved are overwhelming, and almost make it not magic realism at all. The entire point of magic realism is that extraordinary things occur, and do not seem so impossible. By the end, Weetzie is resolved to the magic, however.

The book is an easy read, and is both fun and visceral. However a better option for those unfamiliar with Block's work would be to start with Dangerous Angels.

***.5 of *****
3.5 out of 5

Garden Spells

"Like every person who had ever fallen in love, Tyler Hughes wondered what the hell was wrong with him."

I had every intention of at least waiting a day before writing this review.  I just finished the book 15 minutes ago, and being that it is 3:30 in the morning it seems like a relatively crazy time to write a review, but I simply can't wait.

I'm afraid if I keep choosing my own book selections to read and review, we're going to have some difficulty coming up with negative reviews for this blog.  However, I am mightily proud of myself for finishing two books less than a week into the year.

I felt really apprehensive about this book in the first few pages.  From the description, and the expository detail, my skin prickled and my brain shouted "Practical Magic!"  Yes, Garden Spells shares an eerily similar premise to the Alice Hoffman novel/Sandra Bullock film (I will admit, I have not read Hoffman's novel, so I only have the film to base my comparison on).  The story centers on Claire Waverley, a mysterious and solitary woman who lives in a small Southern town and makes her living off of making food (with a specialty in edible flowers) that is known to make things. . . happen.  Furthermore, the aged apple tree in her back yard allegedly shows someone the most important event of their life after consuming one of the apples.  Waverley women are understood to be magical, and while their gifts are coveted, they themselves are not embraced by the town as a whole.

Claire's sister Sydney chose to escape from the small town scrutiny and left when she was eighteen, only to return 10 years later with a daughter, Bay, after escaping an abusive relationship.  

A story about magical sisters in a small town, sharing a big old house?  That's about where the parallels to Practical Magic end.  The women in Garden Spells are not witches.  The word is never even used once in the book.  They are merely women blessed with peculiar gifts, who learn with age how best to wield them.  The novel itself, is a lovely investigation of the human condition, entwined in a story full of magic realism.  The Waverley's apple tree is a character unto itself, hurling apples for attention, or dropping them in neighbours yards, delivering the unexpected invitation of "eat me" without ever speaking a word.

It is a book about life, told beautifully.  A story about the ability people have to both hold onto, and also release their most private hurts.  It's a story about healing, growing, compassion, and most importantly, it is a love story.  It manages to be a love story in the classic sense, illustrated in the dynamic between the chronic bachelorette Claire and her enticing new neighbour Tyler Hughes, a local art professor.   It is a love story also, about the bonds of family.  Whether it is Claire and Sydney's deep affections for their elderly relative Evanelle (whose Waverley gift is to deliver mysterious presents to people, whose purpose is revealed much later), or the growing bond between Claire and Sydney themselves.  Separated for a decade, and never close before that, the two sisters learn about their connection anew when Sydney reappears in Claire's life.  And lastly, it is a love story about self.  It is about learning to let go, and trust what was always there, and about learning fresh who you really are.

Garden Spells is Sarah Addison Allen's first novel, and is a triumph.  It is the best magic realism novel I've read since finding The Time Traveler's Wife two years ago, and left me holding my breath in anticipation for her sophomore effort.  The book is charming and elegant, like the Southern ladies it depicts.  Allen's attention to detail is inviting, leaving no taste or smell unrepresented.  I haven't felt this welcome in a book in ages, and it genuinely moved me to tears on more than one occasion (part of that could be the incredible connection I felt to Claire, sharing many of her fears).

This book was utterly enchanting, and will likely be the most lovely book I read this year (as sad as that is, considering that there are 360 of reading ahead).  I wasn't left sad at the end of the last page, as I often am after the end of a good book.  Rather, I felt lighter, and liberated.  I look forward to reading this book again, when I have need of a smile and the warmth of something sweet and familiar.

***** of *****

5 out of 5