You’re about to read my review
of The Lifeboat, a first time novel
by Charlotte Rogan. But before you take
the leap, let’s get a few things straight, the first being I generally don’t
like book reviews that flutter and weave like a lost dove, while trying to
sound profound. I like to dig into the
nitty-gritty.
So on to the first
question: “What is a book review?” asks a teacher, professor, or some learned,
soulless academic, with a loaded shotgun pointed directly at your report
card. No worries. Just listen. She’s going hammer home the list
of rules. Take notes.
No need to do that with me.
See, I don’t have any
rules. Want to talk about the plot? Fine with me.
How ‘bout the great characters?
Sure, have a go. We all have
different tastes. Yours is yours alone. You may disagree with mine. So what?
Have another glass of wine…and by the way, pour me one…and we’ll discuss
our viewpoints. You’ll learn something
and so will I.
But, the biggest difference
between the classroom and now is: Drum
roll please…YOU HAD TO READ THE TEACHER ASSIGNED BOOK. What a great relief that you now have a
choice, and I hope in some small way my book reviews strike like a bolt of
lightening when you’re making that choice. I’m going to tell you what I like
and what I don’t and you get to make up your own mind if you like what I like,
or like what I don’t! Brilliant, eh!
So what about The Lifeboat? First answer:
Good book. Excellently written and by that I mean the early 20th
Century vocab and the sentence structure.
Two big thumbs up. Well done!
Synopsis: Passenger ship goes down, just as Europe
edges toward World War I. You remember
World War I began in 1914, right? So,
this ship disaster happens in the shadows of turmoil right before that. Not enough lifeboats. Heard that one before. Too many people crowd onto this particular
lifeboat. There is no rescue in sight.
As you may imagine trouble ensues.
Here’s where my Y chromosome
pops up. No Y chromosome? You’re going to love this book, which hops
from angst to glorious angst and by the way, there’s also a plot. But for me, who needs introspection like he
needs strawberry jam on his sizzling steak, the first few chapters move like a
description of a train named The Wounded Sloth.
There is no train in the book.
That’s a metaphor.
But, stick with me! After laying seemingly hundreds of miles of
track, day after laborious day, the train starts to move. The Wounded Sloth belches out a few puffs of
white smoke and my hopes soar. Soar may
be too strong. My hopes flutter and
wander aimlessly.
Ok, so what, you may well ask,
do I mean by introspection? Here’s a
quote:
“So
you wanted to do the right thing.”
“Yes,
I wanted to help the person…” I stopped myself initially because I realized I
was going to sound very calculating if I said I wanted to help the person who
had the most power in the boat. But, I
also became aware that Mr. Reichmann was looking at me very oddly, with a
mixture of amusement and fascination on his face, and it occurred to me that he
had given me the answer to his question and was wondering what was taking me so
long to realize it. When I stopped
talking so abruptly, his face clouded with a shadow of irritation. But, I couldn’t decide if it was irritation
that I was slow to recognize the core of my defense or that I had caught myself
before some truth escaped my lips.
The quote goes on and on in
the same soul searching vein. As for “….I
had caught myself before some truth escaped my lips.” I say no, she stopped
herself before the plot picked up to a reasonable speed and we got on with it.
Women are going to love this
book. Men lean more toward sharply drawn
characters and a plot that moves cohesively.
The characters in The Lifeboat
are sketched in charcoal, and fade with every wave that washes over the bow. To me, most of the characters are
indistinctly fuzzy to begin with, but that’s the Y chromosome again.
The plot? It’s a question I often asked myself. The various actions? Somebody please tell me why they did what
they did and why I’m supposed to care.
Now, some of my closest female
friends adore this book. They swoon and
proclaim they’re found the lost gospels. I say they may be right and it’s a
good thing the Bible had editors.
And yet, with all my petty
complaining, I kept reading. I suppose there was enough of an intrigue to keep
me turning the pages. I don’t always do
that. If I find a book off-putting,
unlike many other readers, I feel no obligation to the author to finish. I toss
the book aside and grab another. I
didn’t do that with The Lifeboat. Something in it pulled at me and made me want
to know. As I said, the writing itself
was fascinatingly smart. So, what’s the bottom line? Do I recommend the book? Yes, but if you have a Y chromosome, it’s
going to be a staggeringly long, uphill stroll.
