Again,
Rachel, by Marian Keyes.
Queen of the Chick Lit genre Marian Keyes needs no introduction; it’s a safe bet that whichever of her titles
one reads, the entertainment factor will be sky-high – as it should be, for Ms
Keyes has a knack that other writers would kill for: the Unputdownable-till-it’s-finished factor,
and ‘Again, Rachel’ ticks all the boxes.
We return to Ireland and the Walsh family, Mammy, Daddy
and their five incorrigible daughters, not to mention the next generation, soon
to generate stories of their own. Third
daughter Rachel is happy with her life now;
after several false starts (and stops), she has moved on and is head
Counsellor at The Cloisters, the rehab centre which set her on a better path
(Rachel’s Holiday). She has a new house,
new interests (GARDENING!! Who knew??)
and a hot new man – well, not so new anymore;
they’ve been seeing each other for two years and are starting to think
of moving in together. Life is good.
Until she is informed that her ex-husband Luke is
returning from the States for his mother’s funeral. It is expected that she pay her respects by
attending.
Luke Costello was the love of Rachel’s life, but he left
her after an unimaginable tragedy: she
doesn’t want to mention his name, let alone see him again. But she does, because it’s the right thing to
do. And he brought his girlfriend with
him, but hey! She has a new man, so
who’s to care? Except that her sisters
think he’s wonderful, as does her Mum who is planning her 80th
birthday SURPRISE party, and wants him to come along. As if all the tragedy, tears and heartache
never happened. Well. That’s okay – he can come, but Rachel won’t,
so there!
This is what Ms Keyes does so well: intersperse sorrow with marvellous Irish
humour in ways that stops the reader’s heart from becoming too full. All her characters – and there are many, for
we meet Rachel’s charges at the rehab centre, too - are beautifully drawn
portraits of want and need and lack – and hope, for none of them want to be an addict. But they are. Ms Keyes walks the talk here,
for she is a recovering alcoholic, and ‘knows the condition well’. No-one could ever accuse her of not knowing her
subject, likewise I’m sure, with her wonderful Walsh family: we can recognise in every one of them
similarities to ours. This is feel-good,
heartwarming writing at its best. FIVE STARS.
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