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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