Review: Lost Lake

Cover Summary:

 

From the New York Times bestselling author of Garden Spells comes a novel about heartbroken people finding hope at a magical place in Georgia called Lost Lake.

Suley, Georgia, is home to Lost Lake Cottages and not much else. Which is why it's the perfect place for newly-widowed Kate and her eccentric eight-year-old daughter Devin to heal. Kate spent one memorable childhood summer at Lost Lake, had her first almost-kiss at Lost Lake, and met a boy named Wes at Lost Lake. It was a place for dreaming. But Kate doesn't believe in dreams anymore, and her Aunt Eby, Lost Lake's owner, wants to sell the place and move on. Lost Lake's magic is gone. As Kate discovers that time has a way of standing still at Lost Lake can she bring the cottages—and her heart—back to life? Because sometimes the things you love have a funny way of turning up again. And sometimes you never even know they were lost . . . until they are found.

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Lost Lake is slightly different in tone than any of Ms. Allen’s previous novels; I hesitate to say “darker”, as it still contains her signature magical realism and its attendant touch of hope, but still quieter and more subdued. The strongest theme of the story is grief: how to properly mourn for a loved one without losing oneself in the process.

The main character, Kate, has spent the past year before the start of the novel emotionally paralyzed, or as she calls it, “sleepwalking”, after her husband’s death, and the fear of falling back into that state follows her for most of the story. Most of the other main characters have some experience of grief as well: Kate’s aunt Eby, widowed after a lifelong happy marriage and facing the loss of her home; Eby’s friend Lisette, haunted (literally) by the ghost of a boy she rejected at sixteen; Jack, too shy to confess to the woman he loves; and Selma, a sarcastic femme fatale with seven ex-husbands, whose only friend is an elderly woman named Bulahdeen who is even more sarcastic than she is. They all have widely different responses to grief: some bottle it up inside, such as Kate's mother-in-law; some are dependent on it, such as Lisette and her ghost; some channel it into irony, such as Bulahdeen and Selma; and some use it to reach out to others in compassion, such as Kate, Eby and Devin. There is also Wes, Kate’s childhood friend and love interest, whose abusive father and innocent little brother died in a house fire when he was a child. The tentative relationship between Wes and Kate brings a lot of old wounds to the surface for both of them, even as it brings them hope and happiness for the future.

I must admit I missed the adorableness of the visible, sparkling silver baking smells in The Girl Who Chased The Moon, or the woman followed by friendly books in The Sugar Queen. I couldn’t find anything comparable in this book. However, I did find a remarkably kind and selfless ghost comforting the woman who drove him to suicide; Selma’s collection of man-stealing charms; an unusual alligator who communicates with Kate’s daughter Devin; not to mention Devin herself, who wears fairy wings and tutus and has more common sense than most of the adults. I also liked the plot twists that showed up near the end, most of them involving the characters’ pasts, which I didn’t see coming. As for the ending, it was heartwarming: realistic, but happy, in all the right ways. To paraphrase Bulahdeen, the best endings are those where you cannot predict everything.

My only criticism is Selma’s ending, specifically what she does with her last charm. I can’t see how the plot could have been resolved without it, and I understand that she did a brave and selfless thing for possibly the first time in her life … but at the same time, I cringed, because what she did is something no one should be made to do, no matter how good the cause. It surprised me all the more because Ms. Allen's works are normally very female-positive, with a strong emphasis on female friendships, family ties and the importance of being true to yourself. Selma's character, until that ending, was a fascinating exploration of the "man-eater" stereotype and its real-life consequences, and just as she seemed to be turning her life around ... oh, well. Even the best authors aren't perfect, I suppose.

Mostly, however, I very much enjoyed this book, and I recommend it for anyone searching for a story that is mature without being depressing. Curl up with it on one of these frosty January evenings with a cup of tea, talk about it with your girl friends, mothers and grandmothers, and try not to shed too many tears when you find out the true story of the alligator. 

Or, on second thought, do.