Each of these things is not like the other...

Friday night (I think?) I finished Miss Me When I'm Gone, by Emily Arsenault (2011). I'm not sure why I grabbed this particular book from the BPL, but I think it was probably because the author bio on the back says that she lives in Shelburne Falls. And I feel like maybe she has some connection to UMass Amherst or possibly to Harvard Extension. But the more I think about it, the more I think that even if I didn't specifically go looking for this book at the library whenever I got it (late February?), I've had it on my radar for a while.

Anyhow, it was okay. Very predictable, and the writing wasn't anything special, but the story was fine and the main characters - one alive, one dead - were strong. Basically, a young pregnant woman is asked to assemble, evaluate, and possibly edit her recently deceased friend's notes for a planned book. The late friend had recently published a post-divorce memoir structured around her travels through the land of country music, and the songs of female stars, and this new book was supposed to take off from the work of male country stars. Except it becomes clear to the pregnant, remaining friend that her late friend was getting into some shady territory while looking into the murder of the latter's mother and who her father AND who the killer might have been. It's clearer in the book, don't worry. It was...yeah, okay.

And indirectly it made me more interested in learning about early country (women) stars. And reminded me to actually go and download songs from the show "Nashville" instead of always meaning to and then forgetting. Excited to listen to those on my ipod on the way in to work tomorrow!

Finished it Friday night, I think, after a grand evening catching up with C (this blog's first and possibly only reader - hi!!!). Then Saturday I was off to the AWP Bookfair (at the Association of Writers & Writing Programs annual conference). Saw C again (yay!) and got lots of hopefully-good books (yay!). Then last night I started Amada Coplin's The Orchardist (2012).

Wait, totally wrong. Finished Miss Me When I'm Gone on Thursday, because I brought it with me on Friday when I met up with C in Back Bay, thinking I'd return it to the library, but didn't. And then Saturday I didn't even bother since I didn't want any extra weight in my bag, or to waste any space I could use for new books. So I must have started The Orchardist on Friday night, after dinner/drinks...yeah, that makes more sense. Because I remember reading the first few pages in bed and thinking I wished I had read them before I saw C because we could have talked about the style issues.

Specifically, the way things were really over-wrought at first. Sort of like Swamplandia, the beginning of The Orchardist felt a lot like you had a really good, and really into descriptions writer, but one who wasn't disciplined enough to weed out. Even if everything is good, you can't use everything, and in the opening pages of the book Coplin just had too much. But she got over it quickly, and I really liked the rest of the book. It was kind of lyrical, although I hate to use that term, but there were just some lovely, lovely lines. At first she beat you over the head with lovely line after lovely line - showing off, maybe, or just too attached to each "moment" to cut it out/ - but once she hit her stride she balanced regular prose with the more complex passages, and added in an interesting story and really strong characters to boot.

Set in turn-of-the-century Washington state, the story follows a fairly reclusive man who lives in a secluded orchard where one fall some pregnant teens appear, emotionally if not actually half feral and on the run from...well, I guess I shouldn't say exactly who, but a bad man. Although, obviously. That's a terrible summary, but it's an interesting story, really well told, with characters who are at once familiar and original, and some breathtaking descriptions of the natural world (and DAMN, is the Pacific Northwest in those days some scenery to work with).

I could probably say a lot more about it - I really liked it, I think, in the end - but I am very tired.