If These Walls Could Gawk: Real Deal Reveal

You know those cold case shows like Dateline and 20/20 where they investigate the suspicious deaths of women forever frozen in outdated hairdos and wedding gowns?  Well, even the commercials for those shows make my skin crawl, so I never watch them.  That said, an unsolved murder woven into the plot of an otherwise lighthearted novel is an entirely different kettle of fish.  It comes across as more haunting than harrowing -- and yet also somehow more real.  Which, I suppose, is why I took to Mary Kay Andrews's The Homewreckers.

Savannah widow and historical home rehab maven Hattie Kavanaugh agrees to star in a reality show about renovating a hundred-year-old beach house.  Cheekily called The Homewreckers (apparently, Saving Savannah was too sleepy), it capitalizes on the reality programming mainstays of hairspray and hissy fits, all (un)scrupulously scripted to look off the cuff.  Although more at home in Carhartts than cutoffs, Hattie puts up with the Hollywood hullabaloo in hopes of repaying her boss, who also happens to be her father-in-law.  But she gets more than she bargained for when she finds a wallet that belonged to her beloved high school English teacher, who disappeared seventeen years ago.  What was Lanier Ragan doing in that house, and who was the last person to see her?  Someone doesn't want Hattie -- or anyone else -- to find out and starts sending not-so-subtle warnings.  With her last cent tied up in the renovation (TV gigs being less lucrative than one might think), Hattie literally can't afford to turn a blind eye.  Not only that, but Lanier was more than a teacher.  She was a friend who helped Hattie through a tough time.

Hattie, by the way, is what makes this book compelling.  So many mysteries feature a sleuth with no skin in the game, someone just looking for kicks or fulfilling a promise to a weaker character.  And although those premises can be fun, I often wonder why the "detectives" just don't walk away.  Life's hard enough without goading baddies into tossing bricks through your window.  Yet Hattie's invested, and each and every step she takes toward whodunit rings true.

The Homewreckers covers all the baseboards, from murder mystery to reality TV to family drama to, of course, romance.  With characters and a plot built to last, it's a story you can sink your sawteeth into.  

Habitat for Calamity: The Heart is a Lonely Punter

Where the Crawdads Sing needs no introduction.  Everyone has been talking about this debut novel by enigmatic naturalist Delia Owens; even the cover proclaims it to be "the worldwide sensation."  So why, then, did I resist reading it, relenting only when my mother leant me her copy?  I'd see it in Target on my lunch break, sometimes even going so far as to turn it over, reading and rereading the back cover.  The reader in me didn't want to miss out, but the cynic in me dismissed it as a cross between Dateline and Swamp People.

So, when I opened it last week, my expectations were low.  But as soon as I met Kya Clark, the chip on my shoulder evaporated.  After years of abuse at the hands of Kya's father, Kya's mother leaves their North Carolina swamp shack and never comes back.  Unable to bear Pa's drunken violence, Kya's four brothers and sisters escape one by one, leaving her alone with Pa at the age of six.  But even Pa is away more often than not, leaving Kya to fend for herself.  Which, it turns out, she's astonishingly good at.  By watching the gulls, she learns to dig for mussels, then boats to the gas station to sell them so she can buy grits.  She has one pair of overalls and no shoes, but when she steps on an old nail, tetanus eludes her.  She avoids school until she's seven, when the authorities force her to go.  On her first day, she sits in the cafeteria with her chicken pot pie, the most delicious and nourishing food she's ever eaten.  By anyone's standards, she should finally feel safe.  But the other kids are unbearably cruel, laughing at her because she can't spell "dog" and calling her "Marsh Girl."  So she stuffs the food into her milk carton and returns to the only sanctuary she's ever known, the birds and the trees and the water.  The truant officer hunts her for weeks, but she always outsmarts him.  She never sets foot in school again.  Now, I grew up with two doting parents and am about as outdoorsy as an armchair.  Kya and I should have nothing in common.  Yet when I read this, I felt a near visceral pull, everything in me humming, I get it.  Because I too was a loner who didn't fit in and would've preferred home to school.

Kya's pa finally leaves when she's ten.  As the years pass, Kya becomes more entrenched in the marsh, collecting seashells and other specimens and cataloging each with an exquisite painting.  Jumpin', the Black owner of the gas station, and his wife Mabel give her clothes and food when they can.  When Kya's fourteen, a local boy teaches her how to read, and her capacity for creativity grows.  But for the most part, she remains on her own with nature.  Stirring and strange, Kya's is a story of the world's natural wonders -- but of its horrors, too. 

If you've read it or seen the movie, then you know that there's a murder.  And that, despite her extreme isolation, Kya becomes involved with two men.  The way Owens weaves these with Kya's kinship with nature took my breath away.  

And . . . that's where I'll stop.  So that if you want to read Where the Crawdads Sing, then you can be breathless too.