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totorosourdough 's review for:
Another Life
by Kristin Hannah
In most books written by men, a pregnancy is background to the story. In this book, pregnancy is the story. In some ways, it's the only story that matters.
We experience the world through emotional filters we build ourselves, layer upon layer. Each time we interact with the world around us and those in it, we add or reinforce a layer of the filter that colors or shades our worldview.
Many of the stories I've read are about heroes, extraordinary events, and fanciful landscapes. Most of history forgets to tell the story of most of the people who experience it, commemorating instead a handful of those who believe themselves to be the cream of society.
This story had a touch of the fanciful, where the stereotypical Italian American family filled out the tale's canvas, and the protagonists were all beautiful. But that meager fair was well compensated by the exposition of delicately layered, sumptuous emotion upon which readers could get their fill, knowing that the story is one of the everyday person.
Although the characters were a contemporary analog of those we would meet in the writings of Charlotte Bronte or Jane Austin -- beautiful, romantic, and ultimately wealthy -- it might also be the story of anybody.
There is no need for monsters and odysseys to fill the sails of the story with emotions strong enough to move the tale along. The human experience as it is fills any story with ample emotion for any tale.
But I did increasingly wonder from about 1/3 of the way through the book why Angie didn't just adopt Lorren.
We experience the world through emotional filters we build ourselves, layer upon layer. Each time we interact with the world around us and those in it, we add or reinforce a layer of the filter that colors or shades our worldview.
Many of the stories I've read are about heroes, extraordinary events, and fanciful landscapes. Most of history forgets to tell the story of most of the people who experience it, commemorating instead a handful of those who believe themselves to be the cream of society.
This story had a touch of the fanciful, where the stereotypical Italian American family filled out the tale's canvas, and the protagonists were all beautiful. But that meager fair was well compensated by the exposition of delicately layered, sumptuous emotion upon which readers could get their fill, knowing that the story is one of the everyday person.
Although the characters were a contemporary analog of those we would meet in the writings of Charlotte Bronte or Jane Austin -- beautiful, romantic, and ultimately wealthy -- it might also be the story of anybody.
There is no need for monsters and odysseys to fill the sails of the story with emotions strong enough to move the tale along. The human experience as it is fills any story with ample emotion for any tale.
But I did increasingly wonder from about 1/3 of the way through the book why Angie didn't just adopt Lorren.