Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

One of the best things while traveling is to have the companionship of a good book. For three weeks in June, I was moving about Europe, working and later vacationing with family. My other companion was “Call Your Daughter Home,” a newly published novel by Deb Spera. The book left me utterly enchanted and enthralled. The characters, the story, the language, the lessons, the sheer joy, the enjoyment – everything was powerful and beautiful. It is simply a wonderful novel. It was one of those unexpected pleasures that had me say: “Was this is as good as I thought?” So I had to ponder; think of the story; remember particular parts that grabbed; look again at the words I’ve underlined; consider how the story touched and grew in me; reflect on how I was affected by the good, the abhorrent and the evil; marvel at the turning of phrases; recall crying for some losses, delighting in some victories, and generally caring for the heroines. All of this became my perspective, and I can now answer the question resoundingly and honestly: Yes, this is a magnificent book. So, let me express my highest regard and respect for Deb Spera’s extraordinary work. And I’ll jump around a bit, as I reflect on the book. When reading, I realized that there were some phrases I simply loved. So, I began to write a few of them down. The language was of the time and place – rural South Carolina in the 20’s. A sample: • Old man, you’ve got nothing to say that I want to hear. • It’s an old song, which I was born knowing • To love is not God’s hope, but Satan’s need • If one blinks, the other is blind • Everyone gets fed when the preacher arrives. He feeds our soul, and we feed his belly. • A man’s thoughts are a stranger to me. • Yes, Sir, Preacher changed Odell’s life like only a good friend can. I was writing these down because I was enchanted by the voice. The language was real and insightful, and genuinely touched me. I was particularly impressed by Spera’s skill in developing the three protagonists, Retta, Annie and Gertrude. Moving them along, in different settings, circumstances and conflicts, and then bringing them together at the end was a marvelous feat. They were of disparate, incongruous backgrounds and circumstances, with seemingly nothing that would bind them except the writer’s creativity. And while the first two had an elemental humanity from the beginning, I initially disliked Gertrude: selfish, thoughtless, ungrateful. But slowly, her humanity, then her character, and finally, her heroism emerged, and voila, I love the girl. That is magic. And since I am thinking of scenes and events, one last thought. The telephone call to the daughter’s home in Charleston is an extraordinary piece of writing. Those seven or eight pages embraced character, events, emotions and different plots that simply left me blown away. I was trying to imagine Spera’s own emotions as she crafted the scene, for as a reader, it was powerful indeed. More than anything, the book is a profile of compassion and hope. Each of the three characters and their derivative daughters, friends and others were bound by some notion that there could be a better day. And by virtue of friendship, caring and humanity, it might be achieved. Even as I write these words, I worry about the banality of my observations. It is presumptuous to tell what an author means, but it is correct to share what the reader feels. That’s the compact between author and reader. Spera’s book is a profile of how people can be compassionate and how they can make a difference. In my youth, I was consumed by Thomas Wolfe, who these days is much underrated as one of the great Southern writers. He spoke to me as a young man who was yearning – but barely knew it. He’s rightly in the pantheon with Welty, Warren and Faulkner, for each provided magic by capturing the voice and mood of a situation, a place, an era. Deb Spera can stand with all of them. Get this book. It’s a gem.