A few nights ago I was standing in the kitchen cooking dinner, when Michael walks in and says, 'Now this is my vision of the perfect woman!' I had to laugh because I realized the scene must have looked rather absurd. I stood, stirring something in the pan, sipping a glass of champagne, and reading a book. And, for once, I had abandoned my jeans or sweatpants**, and was wearing a Boden dress. We had all been out jumping around on the trampoline about ten minutes before, but I had to go in and give dinner a good stir. Besides, I was parched. As for the book? Well, oh my goodness, I could not put it down. Four nights in a row, as Michael was sound asleep next to me, I read and read until after one in the morning. (Maybe that has something to do with Emilia walking around the backyard earlier saying, in her newfound lazy/intellectual voice, 'I'm exhausted today...' The things she picks up sometimes. (And I mean what she said, not the lazy-intellectual way in which she said it, thank you very much. I've literally no idea where she got that.)
Anyway, back to the issue at hand. I've never read anything by Maeve Binchy before. In fact, it never occurred to me that I should. But I was on the phone with my mom a few months ago when she tells me of this book that she just got in the mail. All it took was describing the cover. 'Honey, the red polka-dot dress and red shoes on the cover are so pretty.' (I don't care what anyone says, when it comes to books, you should in fact judge them by their cover.) I suppose I should also tell you that when I had been complaining of having a hard time getting into any books for the past few months (seriously, it was awful) she immediately suggested Binchy. My mom is a smart lady because it worked like a charm. From the moment I picked up Echoes my grumpy despondency vanished.
Now what I would like to know is this: Why on earth is Maeve Binchy not categorized as a Catholic author? This book is positively swimming in it. Is she not considered fancy enough or something? Because if that is the case, then that is a load of bollocks. I was amazed and mesmerized from beginning to end. I know that people typically save the word 'sweeping' for Gone With the Wind (and rightly so), but the word kept coming into my head as I read Echoes. It is so visual. And the cast of characters is phenomenal as Binchy traces them over a ten year span. Anyway, I just finished the book yesterday and I can not shake it from my head. Ever since I picked it up the story has been ever-present in my mind.
Last night as I laid in bed trying to fall asleep, the oddest thing about the book struck me. (I will try not to give too much away.) Most of the mothers in Echoes are not likely to sip champagne while simultaneously cooking dinner and reading a book. Rather they are nutters — or extremely not nice — or dealing with a loose screw, or something along those lines. Whereas the fathers are, for the most part, rather decent. The only place where this is not the case is with Clare and David. Oh, and with Emer and Kevin. But like Clare and David, they did not begin as mothers and fathers in the book — they just became them over time. (I am currently in the process of trying to forgive David. I wonder how long it took Clare to forgive him?) Anyway, I can't help but wonder why Binchy chose to do that. Or was it even intentional?
In the meantime, I've placed another of Binchy's books in my basket on Amazon — something to do with lighting a penny candle. Let's just see how long I can go before I click 'proceed to check-out' and am on my merry way My guess is not long.
**Yes, sweatpants, alright?
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