Coincidentally, ThommaLyn blogged about slush pile/marketability tonight, a theme that runs parallel to my thoughts on The Girls.First, this book was sent to me from England by my mother-in-law, who was given it by her sister Judy (Uncle Michael's wife - for those 'in the know'), who read it as a book club selection. Why is this important? Because ironically, the book is set in Southern Ontario, Canada, which is where I live. There's been much discussion in our Toronto Romance Writers about setting -- mainly that books set in Canada don't sell. Apparently, this one did.
Next point (and please excuse the rambling. Chalk it up to very little sleep) is the topic, and for this, I'm going directly from the back cover blurb:
In twenty-nine years, Rose Darlen has never spent a moment apart from her twin sister Ruby. She has never gone for a solitary walk or had a private conversation. Yet, in all that time, she has never once looked into Ruby's eyes. Joined at the head, 'The Girls' (as they are known in their small town) attempt to lead a normal life, but can't help being extraordinary. Now almost thirty, Rose and Ruby are on the verge of becoming the oldest living craniopagus twins in history, but they are remarkable for a lot more than their unusual sisterly bond.Now seriously, readers, based on this 'tease', would you have picked this book up?
I'm going to be perfectly honest and say - Not if it was the last book in the bin. Why? *enter devil's advocate*
Because I can't imagine what life must be like for people in this situation and perhaps don't want to.
Because it's far easier to disassociate myself from the cruelties of nature, look upon my own perfect children and remain blissfully unaware.
Because I don't have time to feel sorry for them -- my God, I've got my own issues!
Because when I steal a few moments to lose myself in a book, I want to escape into a world of wonder, adventure, excitement...
And wouldn't you question the sanity of the publisher? Surely this book wouldn't 'chart', couldn't possibly find an audience broad enough, open-minded enough to sit through 300+ pages of what surely described the miserable life of conjoined twins!
Ah, how wrong we (I) was.
The Girls is an extraordinary novel. Beautifully written, depressing/disturbing - yes, in some parts, - but also uplifting, amusing and a wonderful experience. I'm so glad I was given this gift and hope you will seek it out the next time you're in a bookstore. I can see why it's popular amongst the book-clubs: it leaves room for discussion, ponderence, and character analysis.
Back to marketing for a moment: I feel a little sad for this author, Lori Lansens, because she'll never (deservedly) become as rich or famous as Nora Roberts or Stephen King, who both have my absolute and undying respect, but after reading a book like The Girls, those 'best selling' novels feel somehow devoid of any real meaning.
Now, off I go to work on my own emotionally meaningless wip! ;0 (Don't castigate... I jest!)
But first, I leave you with the opening paragraph:
I have never looked into my sister's eyes. I have never bathed alone. I have never stood in the grass at night and raised my arms to a beguiling moon. I've never used an airplane bathroom. Or worn a hat. Or been kissed like that. Or solo walk. I've never climbed a tree. Or faded into a crowd. So many things I've never done, but oh, how I've been loved. And, if such things were to be, I'd live a thousand lives as me, to be loved so exponentially.
