Twin Flame Game: Home is Where the Heat Is

My mom and I enjoyed reading and discussing Where the Crawdads Sing so much that we decided to do it again with another novel.  This time I chose, and I went with Kevin Wilson's Nothing to See Here.  I wanted something that could, ahem, spark conversation, so a book about twins who burst into flames seemed perfect.  Upon hearing this, my sister wanted in too, and our book club of two grew to three. 

Nothing to See Here begins with Madison and Lillian.  One rich, one poor.  Best friends and perhaps something more.  Forged in the fire of a Tennessee boarding school in the '80s, their friendship is intense, rendering them twin flames of another kind until an incident nearly snuffs out their fire.  Although they write to each other regularly, they don't meet again until 1995, when they're almost thirty.  And that's only because Madison needs Lillian to do her a favor -- raising her senator husband's combustible stepkids.  

Told in Lillian's irreverent voice, Nothing to See Here is part satire and part southern gothic.  The twins, ten-year-old Bessie and Roland, are nearly feral and young for their age despite having survived their mother's death.  They're banished to a balloon-and-polka-dot-bedecked house behind Madison's mansion, and it's Lillian's job to keep them from burning it down.  It's also up to her to hide their flaming freak flags to protect their father's precious career.  Not that they're igniting all the time.  Only when they get upset.  Or slighted.  Or unsure.  Or lonely.  So yeah, the threat of pyrotechnics is real, although the fire doesn't hurt them and is, weirdly, lovely.  Determined to avoid anti-anxiety meds and forbidden to turn to therapy, Lillian relies on yoga and other homegrown remedies to keep the kids even-keeled.  Sometimes it seems like she's treating their conflagrations like panic attacks.  Which they sort of are, if the tingles that precede them -- not to mention the aforesaid emotional triggers -- are any indication.  As Lillian's relationship with Madison becomes more complicated, her bond with the children deepens.  Because despite the constant threat of third-degree burns and the senator's brand of clean-cut creepiness, Lillian loves taking care of them.

Nothing to See Here is about putting out fires, both literal and figurative.  It's also about the power of appearances and what it takes to get to the top.  But mostly it's about family, reminding us that those who love and accept us will stand by us even when it means getting burned.  And Lillian gets that.  Long wronged by a world where she doesn't belong, she finally steps up to do what's right -- and finds something she never knew she needed. 

This was an unusual book, definitely thought-provoking.  Now I'm reading something that can best be described as a beach book.  I thought that was what I craved after Where the Crawdads Sing, Sicker in the Head, and now Nothing to See Here.  But instead it feels a little too easy, like a place I've already been.  It makes me wonder if these messier narratives have ruined me for chick lit for good.

I guess like Bessie and Roland, I just want to feel my feelings -- with a fire extinguisher at the ready.