Ann-Marie MacDonald

While Fayne, by Ann-Marie MacDonald, can best be categorized as historical fiction, the ideas the writer contemplates reach well beyond the mid-1800s when much of the story takes place. MacDonald's novel calls into question and turns on their multiple heads many of the most intractable, most infuriating, most frustrating concepts which are, sadly, still being espoused in the 21st century.

The author's slow moving tale, which is very lightly peppered with archaic syntax, will challenge modern show more readers as the pace set by the novel and its word choice reflect the lives of the characters in the novel. The many injustices faced by the characters, such as classism and misogyny (not to mention hatred of Irish immigrants) are practiced blithely and unconsciously by supposedly good people. All this may drive the reader to distraction, despite knowing full well that most people then are as most people now, that is, subjects of their time.

Key to accepting the conclusions posed by MacDonald's novel is to realize, as one doctor says that "Nature doesnae deal in mistakes so much as differences. You never know when one of them might wind up saving our skin." I couldn't put this novel down. show less

I loved this book, and I don’t hand out 5 stars often. It had everything I appreciate in a book: beautiful writing, a perfectly rendered setting, unforgettable characters, and a storyline that kept me turning pages right up to the last page, and then going back to revisit sections and images.

Although my copy of [Fall On Your Knees] is over 500 pages long, I never would have called this a long book. I read other books this month that though shorter, felt much longer.

The setting is Cape show more Breton Island, off Nova Scotia, just before World War I. James Piper, whose mother had taught him “to read the classics, to play piano and to expect something finer in spite of everything,” moves to Sydney, the only city on the island, to try his luck tuning pianos for a living. He falls in love with Materia Mahmoud, the twelve (yes, twelve) year old daughter of a Lebanese family whose piano he tunes. They run off and get married, and are disowned by her large and prosperous family. Mrs. Mahmoud, who reads fortunes in tea leaves, feels both sorrow and “a chill. For she had seen something in his cup.”

Bad things happen to the Piper family and the four Piper sisters, Kathleen, Mercedes, Frances and Lily. In fact, very bad things. It is a grim family saga laced with dark humor. But although this is a story about damage, it is also about resilience and love.

Breathtaking writing:
The night is bright with the moon. Look down over Water Street. On the lonely stretch between where the houses end and where the sea bites into the land, a tree casts a network of shadow that stirs and bloats in one spot, as though putting forth dark fruit that droops, then drops from the bough. It’s a figure come out from under the branches and onto the street. It stops, drifting in place like a plant on the ocean floor. Then it travels again all the way down the street to the graveyard.

Humor:
Lily’s foot is bleeding. She doesn’t know it, because the bagpipes are drowning out the pain. This is what bagpipes are designed to do.

A sense of place:
Mrs. Luvovitz looks at the sea and thinks, when did this become my home? When I buried Benny here? When the second war came? She cannot discern the moment. She just knows that every time she returns to Cape Breton, she feels in her bones, this is my home. That is why she has declined to move permanently to Montreal. She spends half the year there. She loves her daughter-in-law, would you believe? And her five grandchildren who are only each perfect. They speak French at home, English at school and Yiddish with every second shopkeeper. Real Canadians.

One more thing about this book that spoke to me in a personal way: The Mahmouds are Catholic, and the Piper children are raised Catholic, so elements of Catholicism permeate the novel. It is a Catholicism of childhood—rosaries and guardian angels and purgatory and penance and Saint Bernadette--and it felt comfortingly familiar to me, taking me straight back to my own childhood. show less

Crammed full of ideas, brilliant passages, humor, and desperation, this novel has back stories within stories, a novel within this novel. All so well written, but maybe, as was true for The Goldfinch, too much between two covers.

Mary Rose and Hillary are married Canadians, with one adopted son and a biological daughter. As the novel opens, Hillary is headed west from their Toronto home to direct a play. Mary Rose, the lesser maternal-mom, is fending for herself, fairly unsuccessfully, with show more Matthew and Maggie, who is one of the most irksome (and accurately drawn) toddlers ever. As the hours crawl along, Mary Rose is sucked back into her own childhood, which was marred by a rare bone disorder which causes pain in her arm and traumatic surgeries in her youth. She is also expecting a visit from her most difficult elderly parents, who turned viciously on her when she first came out to them. And underlying all is are two childhood memories: her almost-plunge over a balcony and her mother's depression after a stillbirth.

And Mary Rose, a successful author, is also being hounded by fans, who stop her in public to ask when the third book in her trilogy will be published. She hasn't even started writing it yet.

All this combines to make one helluva harrowing week. And an almost equally stressful read! And yet, a memorable one, but not as brilliant as her earlier Fall On Your Knees and The Way The Crow Flies, both of which should be read first. Then decide if you want to tackle this one. show less

This was a re-read after more than 20 years. This book was, for those years, in my top three fiction reads of all time. Not sure it's still there, but I loved it all over again. Despite remembering almost every aspect of t he plot. The writing carried me through, as did the compelling characters (Mercedes is particularly well written) and the story. I also enjoyed the many cultural references that evoked so many memories (the author and I are almost the same age).

Ms. MacDonald controls show more revelations so that there are surprises nearly up to the end of the book. She writes in clear style, but not graphic. Her revelations are subtle until you are smacked in the fact by your own understanding.

There are so many themes here. This time, I found myself reflecting on the contract in coping mechanisms -- and consequences -- for Frances vs. Mercedes. And I'm not sure I fully understand why Frances so badly wanted a baby.

Excellent book. show less