Well, I'm a bit rusty at this, to say the least. Hopefully, I'll still be able to string together a sentence or two. Time will tell...I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find my way back here, writing about what I love - books. I found a few that were inspiring, almost getting me back to the keyboard (Delicious, by Ruth Reichl comes to mind). But it was a book by the uber-talented Jojo Moyes that finally succeeded, and sucked me back in. I first discovered Ms. Moyes when I picked up Me Before You, a book that somehow fell into the romance category (a genre I don't particularly care for). I suppose some would categorize The Girl You Left Behind as the same. A small disclaimer, however. It is my firm belief that 'romance' novels need to be segregated into two categories:
- cheesy Fabio-laced sex romps;
- beautifully written tales with a love story deeply embedded within.
Guess which one this book falls into?
The Girl You Left Behind tells the story of Sophie Lefevre, struggling to get through her day-to-day life in France while World War I rages. Her artist husband, Edouard, is off fighting the good fight, when German officers infiltrate the family hotel, leaving Sophie no other choice than to serve them dinner each night. Soon enough, the Kommandant decides he'd like a little more than the grub being served in bowls, and Sophie faces some difficult decisions. Just when all seems utterly hopeless, you turn the page (literally), and, nearly a century later, we meet Liv Halston, a young woman left a widow much too soon, by her dearly departed, David.
Liv is just learning how to live without David, meeting men and friends (not necessarily in that order). One friend in particular, Mo, is a memorable character that you'll likely either love or hate. If you're an oddball like me, however, you'll probably feel a little of both. Regardless, I wanted more. In fact, if I were forced to find fault with Liv's story, it would be that it didn't include enough Mo, a woman who refers to a bad date as that 'Worst variety of species...the Divorced Toxic Bachelor.' During one pseudo therapy session, she instructs Liv on the healing powers of sticking toothpicks into the bellies of clay voodoo dolls. I love this girl. But, I digress...
Moyes masterfully links the lives of Sophie and Liv when we discover that the portrait of a young girl, which hangs on the wall in the Halston's uber-modern home, is none other than the young Frenchwoman herself. When a court battle over the painting's rightful ownership breaks out, the facts surrounding Sophie, and her difficult choices, are slowly revealed.
This was a beautifully written tale of love, life, and survival. My only complaint is one that seems to hold true for any story that falls into the 'R' category, and that is predictability. You'll be able to see some of this stuff coming a hundred pages in advance. But, in this case, force yourself not to skip ahead. As the saying goes, it's not the destination that counts. It's the journey. And Ms. Moyes takes us on a lovely, memorable one.
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