Elizabeth Kelly (2)

The publisher of The Miracle on Monhegan Island calls it “another rollicking, summertime family saga” from author Elizabeth Kelly, but I think “rollicking” is a slightly misleading description, unless you’d also call the stories of the dark dysfunctional family summers in We Were Liars by E. Lockhart or Maine by Courtney Sullivan “rollicking.”
Although The Miracle on Monhegan Island overflows with humor and is narrated in its entirety by Ned, a purebred Shih Tzu who is wise show more beyond his years on the subjects of both human nature and dog breeds, the humor is mostly dark. The Monahan family is still recovering from events related to mental illness that broke up the family in the past.
Before Spark, the prodigal adult son, returns after an absence of many years to the family home, he steals a dog as a gift for his young teenaged son Hally on impulse from the backseat of a car, thus changing Ned’s life completely, as Spark’s return to Monhegan Island also changes the life of his son Hally, who has lived alone with his artist uncle and stern preacher grandfather since the death of his mother when he was little. Pastor Ragnar is either a crackpot or inspired by God, but his faithful following grows exponentially when Hally reports seeing a vision of the Virgin Mary, igniting a firestorm of media attention and obsessed visitors to the isolated island.
You don’t have to be either a dog person or a God person to appreciate the dark humor of this story of the fine line between religious fervor and psychosis and the strength of blood lines and family ties. Add this one to your summer reading list, if you don’t mind a few loose ends and unanswered questions to ponder over after you close the book!
For a slightly longer version of this review, please visit the Bay State Reader's Advisory blog. show less

Before picking up Apologize, Apologize I felt as though I may have reached my tolerance limit for books focusing on eccentric families and their foibles, but because Elizabeth Kelly is Canadian, and I had read some promising reviews, I decided to put a hold on it at the library. Six months later the book came in, and after waiting to read it for so long, anticipation had built up and I was excited to crack it open.

Apologize, Apologize offers a wacky cast of characters, to be sure, the sanest show more of which is our ill-fated narrator, Collie Flanagan. He and his brother, Bingo – both named after dogs – are growing up in Martha’s Vineyard with a philanthropic, anti-establishment, spastic mother who ironically comes from old money. The rotten apple of her disdainful father’s eye, she prides herself on rebellion. Her disappointed father, this patriarch and king of the family newspaper empire, who the boys fearfully refer to as ‘the Falcon,’ is not a fan of – well, anyone really. High on his scorned list of ne’erdowells is his son-in-law, an Irish-Catholic, perpetually drunk, pauper, whom he disregards with a seething dislike that only a sobering, Irish-Protestant, capitalist could emit.

I was about mid-way through and trying to get a handle on this group’s particular brand of crazy, when I found myself wondering when there was going to be some semblance of a plot. Suddenly a succession of tragedies takes place, and a story starts to form…or does it? Does catastrophe equal storyline? Maybe for some, but it wasn’t enough to ever really hook me.

At best this seems to be a journey of self-discovery for our narrator, as he learns to become a man, and find his place amidst a family that continues to disappoint him. To his fearless mother and brother’s chagrin, he travels along his battered path with his preferred method of survival being to turtle against adversity. After watching him fail to defend himself or assert any convictions, we are privy to some important advice that Collie is offered by his overbearing grandfather, words that I found myself screaming at him throughout his sojourn to self-growth: “Stop trying to be all things to all people.”

He is shameful of the affluence that he’s been afforded by being born into this powerful family, is embarrassed by his lack of courage, and has no idea what he wants out of his life, or if it is even worth living. He wears his guilt like a shroud. In discovery of the man he wants to be he takes excursions to San Salvador and Ireland, which ultimately feel disjointed in relation to the story, and left me feeling as though the book was split in distinct and improperly flowing parts.

One of the more redeeming qualities to this book, at least to me personally, is that Collie’s dad had occasion to stay at the same hotel where my husband and I stayed for our honeymoon in Dublin; The Gresham Hotel. I always find it fascinating to read about landmarks or places that I’ve visited, as I’m sure most people do. It’s a way to find your senses alight as you pour over the familiar sights and sounds you’ve been presented with, both in real life and on the made-up page.

All in all, I won’t say that I didn’t like the book, because there were consistently funny and ironic moments that informed me of the lengths of the author’s creativity. (I particularly howled over the fact that the Falcon, [the Irish Protestant] named his dog Cromwell.) Kelly has laced the novel with birds and dogs, in all shapes, sizes and breeds, that I assume are used as metaphors for various characters and their varying personalities. Clearly there were themes of loss, courage, resilience, forgiveness, and finally acceptance, that gave the story some closure.

With that said, the incessant verbosity and ornate metaphors became suffocating after a few chapters, which left me putting down the book for a rest at frequent intervals. This may have been Kelly’s way of capturing their true voice, a sort of highbrow intellect often found in rich families…I don’t know. By the end of the book I found it to be lacking any definable plot, anti-climactic, while the characters came off as mainly one-dimensional and stereotypical. In my opinion, these attributes are tolerable in a memoir, but don’t carry much weight in fiction.

So I suppose I’m on the fence after all is said and done. I know that I expected more from the book, but it could be said that this is my own fault for buying into the hype. I will have to give Elizabeth Kelly another shot with her next novel so that I’ll have a basis for comparison.

Check out more of my reviews at BookSnakeReviews show less

Twelve year old Riddle's summer should be all about riding and reading at home on Cape Cod, in the shadow of her larger-than-life parents. The father she adores is running for Congress, and her acerbic and beautiful mother pretty much leaves her alone. But the weight of secrets past and present intrude on the idyll with a sinister and increasingly frightening inevitability. The readers knows how this story must end, but we're inside Riddle's mind and have to see it through. Besides, the show more writing carries the day. Such as "The very thought of it all these years later is still enough to catapult me into the open arms of the nearest exclamation point." show less

Blogged at River City Reading:
I often find myself repeating my preference for well written, intriguing characters over those I find to be likable but stereotypical. Thankfully, many authors are able to blend likability with intrigue, but it has been a long time since I've seen it done with the talent shown by Elizabeth Kelly in The Last Summer of the Camperdowns.

In the summer of 1972, 12-year-old Riddle James Camperdown begins to realize that her father Godfrey, affectionately known as show more Camp, running for Congress will mean big changes for her family. Not only will her ex-movie star mother, Greer, be hosting endless parties in their Cape Cod home, but Riddle will now be thrown into the public eye. What Riddle doesn't realize is how much will change when her neighbor Charlie Delvin goes missing and she chooses to keep the evidence she discovers a secret. Plagued by her decision, Riddle must watch as her own family's secrets are exposed, seemingly tangled in lies from the past.

With their thoroughbred horses and hired help, the characters in The Last Summer of the Camperdowns don't necessarily sound appealing. In fact, from the eyes of 12-year-old Riddle, few of them are. But Elizabeth Kelly brings each character to life with such vivid language, it is almost possible to hear the tones of their voices and see the subtle shades of their hair.

"Dunhill cigarette in hand, her sixth finger, she straightened up and exhaled in my direction, a plume of silky smoke winding through her yellow hair like a gray ribbon. I breathed in deeply of her sophistication, imprinting forever that angular and archly feminine aesthetic native to her but elusive to me."

As the novel progresses, it becomes more clear that each character offers a different, sometimes evolving, element to the story. Michael Delvin, Greer and Camp's longtime friend, brings with him tension and stress, while horse trainer Gula serves as a source of more genuine fear. Those emotions are offset by the funny banter between snarky Greer and struggling Riddle, who endlessly seeks her mother's approval despite her best efforts to act otherwise.

"Sometimes I think we only imagine ourselves. It's hard sometimes, coming face-to-face with your truer nature -- the part that you conceal, even from yourself."

At its core, The Last Summer of the Camperdowns is a novel of self-discovery, honesty and forgiveness. However, the path Elizabeth Kelly takes to the final reveal is fantastically developed and well written, combining bits of Gothic fiction with more modern American wit. show less