Thursday, April 20, 2017

The Barrowfields

  
The Barrowfields by Phillip Lewis 368 pages

I was attracted to Lewis’ debut novel for two reasons. First, I read that someone thought this is the kind of novel “you’d get if you crossed Shirley Jackson and Pat Conroy; a southern Gothic haunted house tale with a coming of age story.” Jackson, Conroy, Southern, Gothic, haunted house. I admit it, there wasn’t much that could stop me from reading this one.

I had, wrongly, assumed, that Barrowfields was either a) the family name, b) the name of the house, or c) the name of a town. Actually, Barrowfields is a barren wasteland in North Carolina. I “think” it’s near the coast, but I can’t remember right now.

The story centers around the Aster family. They are typical Appalachian folk: poor, hard-working, honest. Helton and Madeline do their best. Their “children were well cared for even if food and clothes were hard to come by.”

The couple has one son, Henry. He is different than other kids; he loves to read (another reason I was drawn to this story). He leaves the mountains, desperate to make it as writer, but gets a law degree, for college, but ultimately returns with a pregnant wife in tow. They settle down to make a life, purchasing a gothic house high on the hill.  

They have a son, Henry, Jr., who narrates the novel. They settle into life. And that’s the problem with this novel. While the writing is beautiful, the plot just moseys along, It’s like reading about a bunch of people sitting around thinking. I think it’s the long sentences and the slow pace that made this such a chore. I wasn’t pulled into the story; I couldn’t find an arc that really enticed me to read. 

Little to no plot in a beautifully written novel are the reasons that  The Barrowfields receives 3 out of 5 stars in Julie’s world.


I received this book from Blogging for Books in exchange for this review.

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