Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

…And it’s killing me. On Wednesday I was at the temple, at the high school to pick up my daughter and take her to the orthodondist, at Ream’s, and at an evening activity. Yesterday was my day this week to NOT GO ANYWHERE, which means my focus was on household chores until long past my limit for coherent writing; on the other hand, I did read to my second girlie, and although I tried to send her to bed before finishing the book, I ended up deciding that I had 15 or so more pages in me–and so we followed Jane through to the end. Which is why you’re getting a rushed (I have to be somewhere in half an hour) review of Jody J. Little’s Mostly the Honest Truth.

If I had to describe the book in a nutshell, I suppose I’d call it a typical first novel; Little has a solid, poignant (if slightly improbable) story to tell, but the execution sometimes suggests a less-experienced writer. I found “G” as a nickname to be slightly distracting, for example, and the legal intricacies of foster care make Jane’s situation a bit of a stretch. On the other hand, the often-painful details of family difficulties and tragedies are both original and all too realistic, and the outcome is hopeful without being too fairytale for its audience. Jane’s stints in foster care (during her pop’s stints in rehab) have been relatively similar until now, but her burned hand and the odd sort of commune she’s currently placed in give her a crucially different experience. And even if I found, say, Leslie Connor’s Waiting for Normal to be a more tightly written book on a similar topic, Jane’s journey is absolutely worth experiencing for yourself.

I enjoyed it enough that I’m about to put Little’s other book on hold.