“One Beautiful Year of Normal” by Sandra K. Griffith

I usually tend to stay away from ARCs, just as I stay away from self-published novels, for two reasons: one, I prefer to let publishing companies wade through sludge to find gems instead of doing it myself (which may mean I miss out in some cases, but it feels more efficient); and two, then I don’t have to feel bad crapping all over a new author’s efforts if I don’t like the book. 

I broke my unwritten rule and accepted an ARC for One Beautiful Year of Normal, also for two reasons: it takes place in Savannah and Tybee Island, Georgia—two towns I’ve traveled to and have fond memories of; and it promised suspense, family secrets, and “richly layered storytelling.”

Unfortunately, reading this book reinforced my unwritten rule (and here’s the part where I crap all over it, then feel bad, but make myself feel better by claiming the old adage that there’s no such thing as bad publicity). As early as page two, I was finding fault with the writing. By page 6 I had already noted nine things I would have edited if I could have. These ranged from simple annoyance at seeing “Bateaux Mouches” (which would not have annoyed me if it had been written “bateaux-mouches”) to eye-rolling disbelief that a lawyer might call the next of kin fifteen minutes after his client’s death.   

And yet I kept reading. Part of this, of course, is due to my can’t-not-finish-a-book curse that I still haven’t overcome. But also (though related to my curse, and in spite of never really connecting to the characters) I did want to know what happened. 

This book tells the story of August Jules Caine, who has been living under the name Giselle Roamer for the past eighteen years. (Both names strike me as pretentious and unrealistic, which was another of the nine items I would have edited). August (who is called Août by a Frenchman… surely he wouldn’t actually do that!) is awakened in her Paris apartment at 4am by a phone call from a lawyer in Savannah, Georgia (yep, 4am in Paris is 10pm on the east coast of the US, making that lawyer’s quick phone call even less likely). The lawyer is calling with bad news: Aunt Helen has passed away. But August is confused—Aunt Helen died fifteen years ago… which is a pretty good setup for a suspense novel.

Some people will love this book. After all, I am apparently the only person in the world who did not like The Monsters of Templeton, and Lauren Groff has gone on to publish multiple bestsellers despite my criticism.