verbatim: Book Review

Hey, guess what? I was invited to join a book group! This was great news, because after my old one fizzled, I just didn't have it in me to start a new one.

We met last night to discuss Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson, which we all liked very much. It's a literary romantic comedy, which is to say that it's not fluff like many novels of its kind plot-wise—it has some deeper issues and better characterizations—but is still very much a happily-ever-after love story. (I'm not giving anything away here—you'll know from the start that everything is going to work out fine, just as you would in the film version, which is sure to have already been cast.)

Major Pettigrew is a 68-year-old widower in a small English village. He is very proper and in some ways stuffy, but he has enough heart and intellectual curiosity to distinguish himself from many of his narrow-minded townspeople. As the story begins, he finds himself captivated by Mrs. Ali, the widowed Pakistani shopkeeper from whom he buys his tea. There are several plot twists involving racial boundaries, a pair of valuable shotguns, a fiasco of a country club dinner dance, a plot to turn the countryside into a "community" of high-end manor homes, and various faltering romances.

The entire novel is told from the point of view of Major Pettigrew, and he is a perfectly charming companion. He frequently recognizes his shortcomings, which is more than we can say for most of his friends and relatives, and he is a sensible and compassionate person. There really aren't any surprises in the book, but it's still very pleasant to go along for the ride in the Major's company.

My only complaint about the book is that quite a few of the minor characters (and even, to a certain extent, some of the not-so-minor characters) seemed to be drawn straight from Central Casting. We need a prissy vicar's wife! Got one. We need an appallingly boorish American businessman! Check. How about an ungrateful, shallow son? No problem. Even the Major and Mrs. Ali were in some ways caricatures, although somewhat more fleshed-in than the others. Even so, this was an enjoyable read and an interesting, Austen-esque glimpse of life in the English countryside in our own time.

I was reminded of The Help, which I reviewed here. There you also had a community of the white majority and the non-white minority, neither of which had much respect for the other on the whole. But in both cases, you had a few individuals within each community who were willing to look beyond the skin color to see the actual people. (And there was a disastrous country club dance in that one too!)

Next up: I got to pick the book for November, so I chose A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore, because I'd already started it last week.