Open up the lawn chair and get a cold drink from the cooler. Your summer reading (good for the beach, too!) is waiting for you. Ayelet Waldman's "Red Hook Road" is well written chick lit of the first order, and what's more, it's Maine chick lit. Lobsters and melted butter, blueberry pie, sailing on the bay, fearsome mosquitoes, battered pickups, Hannaford grocery stores---it's almost all there. (Inexplicably, there is no reference to Moxie, the beloved medicine-like soft drink.) The novel is set in Red Hook, Maine, thinly disguised as the actual Downeast town of Blue Hill, with its internationally known summer music festival, Kneisel Hall (Usherman Hall in the book).
Since "Red Hook Road" is meant to be a page-turner, I won't give away a bit of the plot, except to say that it is about two intertwined families and their responses to a tragedy that affects them both. The Copakens are long-time summer visitors from Manhattan or, as Mainers say, "from away." while the Tetherlys are local people. Most of the narration is from the point of view of the indomitable Iris Copaken, a Columbia professor whose specialty is Holocaust Studies, but the omniscient narrator occasionally steps away from Iris to provide insight into other characters. The novel takes place over the course of four summers, with only hints as to what happens in the intervening nine months. You can bet it's cold and bleak up in Red Hook, though, with only the Tetherlys to keep an eye on the closed up summer cottages.
There is a recurring thread of "from away" versus local tension in this novel, although Waldman does not mine this hoary theme with particular success. So dominant is Iris's persona that her opposite number, the house cleaner Jane Tetherly, is reduced to a sullen woman of few words whose only pleasant quality seems to be her ability to make a banana pudding from Nilla wafers that the "from aways" pretend to like. Waldman probably knows that the characterization of Mainers is not her forte; in the opening pages of the book, Iris's daughter Ruthie remarks on how her mother takes infinite pains to chat up the local women but can never shed her outsider status.
"Red Hook Road" ends with a microburst--the weather kind--but the denouement is a kind of prose microburst, too. Everything gets wrapped up VERY rapidly. (Wow, I wish my lawnmower started like the outboard on that unused dinghy in the unused shed!) I'm only giving the novel three stars, as it's not exactly enduring literature. However, as an accompaniment to a sweating glass of iced tea, it's better than a plateful of cookies.
M. Feldman