Come and Go by Lee Harlem Robinson

Book:  Come and Go

Author:  Lee Harlem Robinson

Publisher: Self-Published

In so many ways, I am the daughter of fortune.

However, unlike Isabel Allende’s Eliza Sommers, I’m rarely mistaken for a homosexual man, even though the lady at the big Teeter (the local grocery store) calls me “sir” weekly.

In all seriousness, I had the advantage of growing up with an extended family—my mom’s dad lived with us from the time I was seven years old, and my dad’s mom lived only a few short miles away.  And, we did most things together as a family—holidays, birthdays, church, Sunday dinners, and the annual town Chowder Day.

My grandmother and I were particularly close, and I spent a lifetime of summer mornings mowing her yard, which backed up to the local Free Methodist Church and Masonic Temple.  Well, technically I was “trying” to mow her yard—even though she was sixty-nine years older than me, she was so concerned that I would succumb to the daunting heat and humidity that was prevalent in the soft white underbelly of the Wabash River Valley that she would “spell” me every ten or fifteen minutes. 

Picture a bird-thin woman of eighty, wearing a dress and sensible shoes, pushing a lawn mower at Mach 2, stopping every three minutes to blow her nose and slip the Kleenex back into her dress sleeve for safe keeping.

After “I” was done mowing, my grandma would usher me into the house where she would feed me a feast of roast pork, rivels, cooked spinach with vinegar, green beans with bacon, and a gallon of sweet tea.  To finish off, she’d ask, quite daintily, if I could “eat half a pie?”

Seriously.

After that, we’d do the dishes and retire to the living room to watch her “stories.”  Most people refer to them as “soap operas,” but to a little old lady who got electricity, plumbing, and running water in her mid-seventies, they could be whatever she wanted them to be.  Her favorites were the ABCs, that is, All My Children, One Life to Live, and General Hospital.  But, if something good was happening on one of the other networks or the writers were dragging their feet, she’d switch back and forth to Search for Tomorrow and Guiding Light. 

For the record, grandma never forgave Laura for stepping out on Scottie Baldwin with her ne’er do well rapist Luke Spencer (forgot that little tidbit, didn’t you); and she always thought Dr. Dorian Lord never got the gratitude she deserved for letting that scumbag pedophile, Victor Lord, die a slow, horrible, agonizing death.  Oh, and she also thought Erica Kane made the right “choice” in 1973.

So, to a lot of people, soap operas are poorly written, badly acted, never-ending vacuums that suck up precious moments in life, never to be seen again.  But, to my grandma, those chance meetings, coincidences, extramarital affairs, missed opportunities, secret relationships, unplanned conversions, last-minute rescues and revelations, and deus ex machina endings were grand and welcome entertainment after a life filled with hard work and sacrifice.

The story, Come and Go, by Lee Harlem Robinson is the very modern lesbian equivalent of the soaps of my youth, and a big, juicy story that would have kept my grandma well entertained.

To clarify things a bit, author Lee Harlem Robinson is in fact a fictional character created for the blog, Trying to Throw My Arms Around the World penned by real life author, Hannelore Arbyn. In this blog opera, Lee narrates the story of her work, life, love, heartbreak, and passage to Hong Kong. Come and Go picks up where Trying to Throw My Arms Around the World and the short story, “Dirty Pleasure,” end. 

Lee Harlem Robinson’s love life has never been boring—she’s loves women, and women can’t seem to get enough of her.  Well, that was true while she tripped the light fantastic in London and Paris.  But now, her employer has shipped her off to the unforgiving city of Hong Kong—a gay man’s paradise and a lesbian’s long day’s journey into night

Lee’s life is filled with flirty and fabulous gay boys and bars galore.  The only things missing are the lesbians.  After a quick, one-night stand soon after she arrived, it took Lee months to find a hot, sexy, eligible lesbian.  However, the lovely banker, Stella, dumps her for the ever-sexy CJ, and Lee finds that she can’t quit obsessing about Stella.  Whether it’s Stella, raging hormones, or the fact that she doesn’t like losing, Lee spirals deeper and deeper into alcohol-induced despair.  When all seems lost, she meets the hip and sexy Nikki, who is smart and secure in her wants and needs.  The two immediately jump into bed, and then begin a relationship of sorts.

But, CJ suddenly dumps Stella, who immediately begins chasing Lee.  To complicate things, Lee’s boss and former lover, Lucy, descends upon Hong Kong with lust in her eyes.  Lee has a lot of choices to make, and each one seems worse than the last.  Of course, Lee has a real problem with lying, and her confessions to Nikki lead her new girlfriend into the arms of another hip and sexy woman.  So, Lee has a lot of decisions to make—risk it all again on Stella, risk losing Stella for Nikki, or keep making stupid decisions and loose them both?   

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of Lee Harlem Robinson’s life…

Back over the summer, author Hannelore Arbyn asked if I would review Come and Go.   I was intrigued by the story locale, and the fact that the main character was the “author,” so I immediately agreed.  Of course, I had a long list of books to review, and it kept getting pushed further down the list. And then, a few weeks ago, I had the brilliant idea to buy three random short stories, and write up a review featuring them. Best laid plans, right? One of those short stories, “Dirty Pleasure,” by Lee Harlem Robinson was so strangely and unexpectedly compelling that I immediately dusted off my copy of Come and Go, and tucked into it.

Come and Go is equal parts funkysweetsexycool, and the writing manages to stay crisp and clean throughout the sordid story of the main character’s turbulent love life.  Lee Harlem Robinson is truly a memorable character who is somehow able to keep the reader firmly in her corner in spite of her near constant self-pity, poor decision-making, and selfish choices.  In many ways, she’s every woman—a character who is so much more real and vulnerable than the serialized pseudo lesbians littering large swaths of lesbian fiction.

Supporting Lee Harlem Robinson is a bevy of pretty gay boys, all richly and cleanly written.  These handsome twinks, muscle boys, and Nellies dote on their appearance, flirt wildly with everyone, correct the fashion choices of lesbians, and surprisingly run much deeper and wider than anyone would ever credit them based on appearance alone.  I appreciate the author’s use of them as a collective to advance the story incrementally, and as a means of comparing and contrasting attitudes and actions related to love, sex, and loyalty. 

Come and Go’s character-rich trifecta is completed as the author manages to make the larger-than-life Hong Kong come alive with attitude and opportunity.  Full of bright lights, endless hills, heat and humidity, and thrumming gay bars and discos, this vibrant metropolis manages in turns to be exhilarating and crowded and then soulless and lonely. 

Simply stated, Come and Go is a slick and well-written episode of the blog opera Trying to Throw My Arms Around the World, and it continues the familiar pattern of the loves and loses of the expat, Lee Harlem Robinson. Moving effortlessly between sweet and sad emotions, and laugh-out-loud moments, it draws the reader in and makes you care.  For the most part, the story moved quickly and effortlessly, and while it tended to drag on occasion, it always got back on track.

I got my love of these types of “stories” from my grandma, and I have no doubt she would have tuned in daily to find out what would happen next to the irrepressible Lee Harlem Robinson.  So, give "Dirty Pleasure" a try—it’s free on Amazon and a quick read at 34 pages.  Then, let me know whether or not you find yourself drawn in and wanting to see what happens next in Come and Go. For me, against my expectations, I was hooked. 

So, in honor of grandma, I’m giving Come and Go a 4.8 out of 6.0 on the Rainbow Scale

Pennance by Clare Ashton

Book:  Pennance

Author:  Clare Ashton

Publisher:  Self-Published

Lyrical Ballads, with a Few Other Poems is a smart and snappy little collection of poems by a couple of fellas named William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  Originally published in 1798, it is generally considered to have marked the beginning of the English Romantic movement in literature.

Ironically, it is also generally considered that the end of the English Romantic movement was marked by the 1982 release of Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran.

But, I digress….

Most of the poems in the 1798 edition were written by Wordsworth, with Coleridge contributing only four poems to the collection, including the narrative poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  In this ballad, a nameless narrator begins by telling the reader a ghostly, preternatural, and mysterious tale about an ancient seaman who stops a man on his way to a wedding to recite a strange and terrifying story that traverses the high seas from the Atlantic to the Pacific and all the way to the South Pole. 

The story is rife with naked Deities, scurvy, sea snakes, reanimated sailors, beautiful angles, a smelly hermit, and a dead albatross…a little something for everyone.

While the poem is known for its clever use of poetic effects such as inversion and enjambment; its rich use of alliteration, anaphora, irony, metaphor, simile, onomatopoeia, personification, and synecdoche; and its novel juxtaposition of end rhyme to internal rhyme and iambic tetrameter to iambic trimeter; it is the theme of sin and redemption––that Man is a sinful creature, but redemption awaits him if he repents his wrongdoing and performs penance––that sets the stage for the further exploration of the ideas of respect for nature and confrontation of the supernatural.

As an aside, It also sets the stage for a frisky little game of winner-takes-all Craps between the swarthy, mustachioed Death and that naked little blond hottie named Life-in-Death.

Pennance, by debut author Clare Ashton, tells the story of Lucy, a bright, talented woman struggling after the death of her partner, Jake, in fiery car crash a year earlier.  Set in the village of Pennance in Cornwall, Lucy is emotionally overwhelmed with the aftermath of the accident, and seemingly unable to move forward with her life.  She remains a virtual recluse, avoiding her nosey mother-in-law and the pity-laced stares and hushed whispers of the locals.  She survives on canned soup, refuses to light a fire to warm her home or ride in a car, and feels the ever-present spirit of Jake in their cold, dank cottage.  While on a run one day, she sees Karen, a mother of two children who is divorcing and has returned to her homestead after the death of her parents.  The two women bond almost immediately upon meeting, and Lucy slowly begins to come out of her shell.  Almost at once, she develops a warm and playful relationship with three-year-old George, but is unable to break through to his older and more sullen sister, Sophia. 

Over time, and as their relationship deepens, Karen admits to having an affair during her marriage, and Lucy admits the truth about the car accident and her feelings for Jake.  However, things start to go awry as someone breaks into Lucy’s home, leaves a ghastly voodoo doll on her doorstep, and sets fire to her home.  Is it Tom Riley, owner of the Garage that messed up the brakes on Jake’s car and whose life has been destroyed and business forced to close because of the lawsuit?  Is it Ben, Jakes brother, who is secretly in love with Lucy and jealous of her growing relationship with Karen?  Is it someone or something else with an axe to grind?  The truth changes everything for Lucy, but will she ever be able to reclaim her life and happiness?

Will she ever mop her floor, wash her dishes, or clean the toilet again?

Clare Ashton’s Pennance is a tale of sin and redemption through, appropriately enough, penance.  Written in the first person narrative, the reader is given a first-hand account of the depths of trauma generated by oppressive guilt and obsessive denial.  We are introduced to a main character who isn’t particularly likeable, and doesn’t generate much pity as a result of her internal dialogue.  Yet, at the same time, we are lead to believe that her behavior is a result of PTSD-like symptoms as a result of the accident and overwhelming sense of loss of her partner.  This creates an intense set of dueling emotions, which is apt and effective given the narrator’s state of sense and mind.  It becomes even more fitting as the narrative progresses, and we see Lucy both opening up and shutting down across a wide array of situations dealing with Karen, the children, and Ben.

One of the most challenging elements of writing in first person narrative is finding a way to add depth and voice to supporting characters.  In Pennance, Ben and George are, for the most part, fully developed characters that have effective depth and voice––this is especially impressive, given that George is a 3-year-old with plastic dinosaurs.  However, other characters, such as Karen and Sophia, seem a bit underwhelming and flat––a bit of a disappointment given their vital roles as the love interest and the powerfully petulant teenage Baby Jane. I will give due credit to Ms. Ashton, though, for creating the enduring presence of Jake through noted similarities with brother Ben and through the ebb and flow of his ghostly presence in the Cottage––there isn’t much of him in the story, but what’s there works well.

While there is not an albatross to be found, Pennance is a successful and intriguing tale of transgression and liberation, which addresses varying degrees of right and wrong, truth and lies, and good and evil––its power comes from the raw images and emotional self-flagellation, which is apropos of everything.  The book is in dire need of a good editor, but this is surprisingly true of many books being released on the market today, not just those that are self-published.  Ultimately though, Ms. Ashton gives her readers an interesting take on penance, and has written a story that starts out a bit slow, but is well worth the wait for its sweet redemption.  I’m giving this tense and gutsy little debut a 4.6 out of 6 on the Rainbow Scale.

After the Night by Rachel Dax

Book:  After the Night

Author:  Rachel Dax

Publisher:  Self-Published

One of the advantages of growing up in a small town is that I had the good fortune of knowing my grandparents as regular features in my life.  In particular, my dad’s mom, Wilma, was my best friend, hero, and chocolate chip cookie enabler. 

I’m the twitchy little dyke I am today because of her constant love and devil-may-care attitude.

Still, Wilma led a hard life as a farmer’s wife, and my parents and aunt finally convinced her to move off the farm and into town in 1970.  At the time, she grumped that she was just fine where she was, but I never heard her complain about suddenly having electricity, indoor plumbing, running water, a washing machine and dryer, a telephone, or a furnace.

She did, however, put up a valiant and successful fight against the evils of air conditioning for another thirty-one years.

One of Wilma's Stories

One of the things my grandma loved most about living in town was that she could regularly volunteer at the library three times a week, and any time she needed to go to the Stop-n-Shop to do her trading, which was conveniently located next door.  Grandma would help the librarian restock the shelves, work the front desk, and carry stacks of books to and from the bookmobile. 

As ‘payment’ for her efforts, the librarian would send grandma home with a paper bag full of “stories,” as she liked to call them.  Her absolute favorites were the Avon originals, Harlequin romances, and the old Mills & Boon books in brown.

As a kid, I mostly remember the covers usually featured handsome, square-jawed men and women with flowing hair and oh-so-heaving bosoms…no wonder I grew up to have a squishy little heart and a healthy libido.

In After the Night, author Rachel Dax takes her readers back in time to 1960 in this pulp fiction nod to the 1956 film, Yield to the Night.

Yield to the Night Poster
US Theatrical Release

Which featured the “eye-filling, gasp-provoking, blonde bombshell,” Diana Dors, as a murderess sentenced to hang and spending her last days in the condemned cell in a British women's prison.

Twenty-two year old nurse, Leah Webster takes a position in the hospital wing of Deepdown women’s prison in order to save up money for her impending marriage to the handsome and square-jawed Bill.  Dark haired serious looking Chief Officer Jean MacFarlane is assigned responsibility by the Governor for her introduction.  Immediately, “Mac,” who is a walking contradiction, intrigues Leah – the guard is edgy, distant, rigidly professional, and gruff, but almost without fail, the prisoners and other prison workers seem to brighten up when she is near. 

By the time Leah is introduced to Matron and the prisoners in the sanatorium, she’s having second thoughts about taking on this position.  Almost immediately, Marge, who is infirm with a broken hip, begins flirting openly with Leah.  Leah has heard stories of inverts and perverts, but has never really encountered one before, and is even more unsettled.

Of course, over the next few days, Leah learns of Mac’s heart being broken by the execution of a prisoner she was assigned to guard.  And, then, a young prisoner that is one of Mac’s favorites is rushed to the san – she’s been beaten severely and is deep in the throes of pneumonia.  Mac stays by her side night and day, and as Leah watches the motherly love and devotion, she suddenly realizes that she may be developing feelings for the older woman.  Leah fights the feelings, and even capitulates to sex with Bill to convince herself she’s not an invert, but all she can think of is Mac.

Of course, true love must always be fought for, and their budding relationship is tested time and again by a prison break that turns deadly, lies and deceit that threaten their jobs and their honor, ugly prejudice and vile accusations, and a wholly unplanned and unimagined surprise.

They push, they pull, they have partially-clothed sex in Mac’s office, they plan a life with hundreds of dogs and cats…

Rachel Dax delivers a solid debut in this highly stylized piece of British historical romance.  After the Night features strong central characters that offer a satisfying mix of strength and vulnerability, and a plot that twists and turns and inspires feelings of true joy and ultimate despair. 

The author gets her mojo rolling and channels the very best of the Avon, Harlequin and Mills & Boon authors of the late 50s, 60s, and early 70s.

Ms. Dax has produced a story that exemplifies the very best of the classic romance novel, and checks off each and every box on the “So You Want to Write Romances” pamphlet… 

• After the Night revolves around two women as they develop romantic love for each other and work to build a lasting relationship together.
• Both the conflict and the climax of the story are directly related to that core theme of developing a romantic relationship, and the myriad subplots that do not specifically relate to the main characters' romantic love add appropriate levels of angst and turmoil. 
• In addition, Ms. Dax rewards the characters who are good, and penalizes those who are evil; we see the couple fighting for and believing in their relationship, and we see them rewarded with happiness and unconditional love in the end.

I appreciate that Rachel Dax wrote this historical romance, stayed true to the rules of romance writing, and produced characters and dialogue that are appropriate to the time period and character stations in life.  After the Night is a fun, artful, and compelling read, and it is different from anything else on the Lesfic market.

Think the love child of Kathleen Woodiwiss and Mabel Maney.

This book took me back in time, and reminded me of those stories my grandma loved so much – and I mean that to be a high compliment to Ms. Dax.  At times, the plot was a bit predictable, but the story forged ahead at a brisk pace.  For aficionados of classic lesbian romance, this is a must read. 

After the Night gets a rising 4.9 out of 6 on the Rainbow Scale.

Short Stories by Diemer & West

One of the joys of blogging is that you get to make up the rules. 

 . . . and go nanny nanny boo-boo to yourself, every now and then.

I write book reviews - I read a book, make notes, sit around staring at a wall for a while, then end up with something that eventually becomes a post on The Rainbow Reader.

It’s scientifically unscientific, kind of like making pudding, only with words and no whip cream.

Back in August, the lovely and talented Sarah Diemer of The Dark Wife fame asked if I’d crack open my rulebook to review a short story of hers.  I kind of wanted to say ‘no’ because I only review books, but she’s just so darn nice and her writing is so lyrically edgy, I found myself saying, “Of course I will.”

Then a month later, the lovely and talented Gabriella West of The Leaving fame reminded me that I had asked her to keep me up to date on her work, which includes the release of a new short story.  I kind of wanted to say ‘no short story review’ because I only do books, but she’s just so darn nice and her writing is so lyrically edgy, I found myself saying, “Of course I will.”

Hmmm.  See the trend here?

Pat yourself on the back, because it took me a few days to realize that these two writers, while so very different, have compatible styles, and the subject matter for their short stories could combine for a really cool and different type of review.

So, I blew the dust off my finest nanny nanny boo-boo, and this post was born.

Short Story:  Far

Author:  Sarah Diemer

Publisher:  Self-Published

Far is the dystopian tale of Mana, who is the best Runner for the dark, oppressed, city without a name.  As a Runner, she uses magic to steal the souls of the recently departed from the purgatory of After, and its sketchy machine known as the Recycler.  Once the souls are returned to the city, she repatriates them with their lifeless bodies.  All is well, until she meets Far, a beautiful woman that makes her feel alive.  But Far is seemingly unimpressed by the love and devotion of Mana, and takes her own life in an attempt to be free.  A completely devastated Mana returns to After to retrieve Far’s soul, so they can be together again.  Far is furious with Mana for making her a Reanima, and refuses her attempts at love.  Mana takes one more job to get money to make a better life for Far, but is consumed by The Prehend.  Far realizes her love for Mana, and follows her into After, but what she finds challenges every notion of life, death, love, and forever.

Ah, I love a good dystopian zombie love story.

Far is available for purchase as a short story at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords, but it will also be included in Ms. Diemer’s Love Devours:  Tales of Monstrous Adoration, a speculative/science fiction lesbian anthology scheduled for release in November 2011.

While deprivation, terror, and oppression are not part of my ‘feel good’ vibe, Far is an amazing little story that makes the dark journey worth while.  The story is beautifully written, and amazingly detailed.  The characters are surprisingly complex for such a short tale, and their relationship has a delicate hint of O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi.  But, it is so very much more. 

The more I read of Sarah Diemer, the more I’m mesmerized by her vision and writing style.  I’m giving the short story Far a 5.1 out of 6 on the Rainbow Scale – it’s dark but it’s a gorgeous piece of prose.

Short Story:  The Doge’s Daughter

Author:  Gabriella West

Publisher:  Self-Published

The Doge’s Daughter non-too-politely grabs the reader by the hand and drags us into the heart of 17^th Century Vienna. Piero is a young boy from a poor family who is chosen by the priests of the Doge’s court to become a castrato singer in their choir.  For years he toils as a singer, maturing into a serious young man.  Because of the castration, he remains almost girlish in appearance.  One day, Elisabetta, the teenage daughter of the Doge, singles him out for special games.  Piero is surprised, but knows his place when summoned.  Elisabetta marries the handsome young Prince Michele, who embraces an open relationship with his new wife as a way to sustain their passion.  Of course, Prince Michele is as taken by the young Piero as Elisabetta.

As someone who reviews Lesbian Literature, I was so not prepared for a piece of erotic historical fiction that included castration, pedophilia, oral and anal sex, and a lusty bisexual menage-a-trois.  Nope, totally not prepared.

But, you know what?  This is a well written sort-of love story.  The kind of well written story that deposits the reader into the very heart of it.  Ms. West told a dark and gritty tale that addressed several taboo topics and a handful of others that aren’t mentioned in polite company, but she did it in a beautiful, lyrical style.  Ms. West is masterful at strong first-person narrative, and the reader is easily able to step into the shoes of Piero, and embrace his moments of joy, beauty, and discovery. 

One of the fun elements of this story is figuring out the roles.  Piero and Prince Michele are men, and Elisabetta is a woman.  Yet, Piero is a eunuch, and so many elements of attraction for Michele and Elisabetta are tied to his more girlish aspects.  Many, but not all. 

My tastes run strongly toward lesbian literature, so this short story wasn’t really in my wheelhouse.  Still, as a reviewer, I can’t deny that it is a brilliant piece of writing that deserves to be embraced by it’s intended audience.  I’m giving The Doge’s Daughter a 5.0 out of 6 on the Rainbow Scale – as a lesfic reviewer, it’s not every day I get to use the words “eunuch” and “castrato”.

The Doge’s Daughter is available for purchase at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.

The Leaving by Gabriella West

Book:  The Leaving

Author:  Gabriella West

Publisher:  Self-Published at Smashwords

As an intelligent, slightly quirky, baby dyke with a cowlick, coming of age in small town, rural America in the mid-eighties was a confusing, awkward, lonely experience.  I didn’t read the same books, listen to the same music, or wear the same clothes as my peers; and whenever I tried to engage anyone in conversation, they tended to look at me like I was asking them, in a little-used dialect of isiXhosa, to conjegate a sentence with multiple verbs.

And, as hard as it may be to believe, I never actually did that – with “that” being the operative word.

Because friendships of any depth were fleeting, at best, I tended to focus my teenage energies inward, and spent a lot of time thinking about travelling to places like Marrakesh and the Heart of Darkness, and meeting people just a little more like me.

Or even totally not like me, but at least able to conjugate a sentence with multiple verbs.

In The Leaving, by Gabriella West, we are introduced to teenager Cathy Quinn, a smart, quirky, social misfit growing up in the dreary and depressed 1980’s Dublin.  Her gay brother, Stevie, begins a new relationship with the one boy she thinks she likes only to discover she really doesn’t.  Stevie is sometimes her friend and sometimes her antagonist, but always her older brother.  Cathy understands that she’s not like anyone else, but isn’t going to be coerced by her parents, her brother, or her schoolmates into fitting in to their definition of ‘normal’. 

After Christmas break, she meets Jeanette, another misfit, and begins her first in-depth friendship.  Quickly, the friendship grows stronger and deeper, and Cathy soon realizes she’s fallen in love. But, being gay is strictly verboten in this society, and Jeanette is more concerned with starting to fit in with the kids at school than in exploring and pursuing her feelings for her best friend.  Cathy is faced with changing herself to fit in with Jeanette, or staying true to herself and being alone again.  She chooses to focus inward to cope with the separation, loss, and pain; and looks outward as she starts to plan her escape from school, home, Dublin, and Ireland.

“California, here we come . . .”

When I first read the synopsis of The Leaving, I thought I’d be reading a YA novel.  And, while some young adults might pick it up and learn a thing or two, the book transcends the boundaries of that genre’.  Yes, it’s about a teenager dealing with school, friends, family, sexuality, and first love; but it also explores complex themes like sibling rivalry, gender bias, social bullying, and raw emotional default.   

Cathy is described as chubby, homely, standoffish, and weird, but you get the sense that at some level she understands that she’s biding her time, keeping the plates spinning, and waiting for the time to spread her wings and fly.  This is portrayed beautifully during the section of the book where Cathy and Jeanette spend several weeks on the farm in County Meath.  Cathy flourishes socially, emotionally, and physically before it all falls apart and the downward spiral of her relationship with Jeanette begins.  But still, she has the brief, sweet taste of things to come.

While Cathy’s relationship with her parents is almost non-existent, her relationship with Stevie is complicated and central to the book – he’s everything she isn’t – strong, popular, bold, and good-looking.  He looks after her, tells her things, and shares part of the burden of home life with her.  But, he senses her inner strength and capabilities lurking deep inside. Surprisingly, and sometimes not, it appears that Stevie senses her gifts, and tries to sabotage her through passive and not-so-passive aggressive behavior.  As the book progresses, however, we start to see a shift in each of them and their relationship – Cathy, for all her faults and insecurities, begins to come into herself, and makes decisions that change the course of her life and moves her beyond Stevie’s shadow.

Overall, I thought the book started out very slowly, but came to understand that this is Cathy’s journey, not that of the reader.  The book is written in first person narrative, and we follow her pace, her thoughts, her decisions, and her directions.  She treats herself not so differently than she treats everyone around her, and the reader often times feels so close to breaking through, only to be pushed back slightly.  At times, we’re invited inside, much like Stevie and Jeanette, but not much more.  I sense that this takes an amazing amount of discipline by the author to tell Cathy’s story without stepping outside her carefully guarded emotional façade.  While it can be trying for the reader, it makes perfect sense.

One of the near constants of any coming of age story is that there is something that each of us identifies with, and this story stays true to form.  The Leaving is a powerful book, but it’s not emotionally easy to read.  We want to be closer to Cathy, but she won’t let us.  We want her to meet the perfect woman, but we don’t know if she ever will.  And, we want to her be happy, but there’s no guarantee where life will lead her. 

If you’re looking for something with a little bite, something that will challenge you, something that will take you back to those not-always-so-halcyon days of your teens as you assess where you’ve come and how you got here; then The Leaving is the perfect catalyst.  I’m giving this book a 4.8 out of 6 on the Rainbow Scale.

Gabriella West isn’t afraid to be different, and she isn’t afraid to stay true to herself - for a little more info on her and how the book came to be, don't hesitate to check her out at either of the following sites: 

http://gabriellawest.net/

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/gabriellawest