There’s no question that any novel by Joy Cowley will make
you think and suck you in. She’s not
only a great story teller but a clever narrative architect. A simple tale of a boy whose life is
surrounded by chaos is visited by a mystery, only he doesn’t comprehend the
meaning or the rationale. Not yet
initially. It’s that classic building of
layers on layers until the tensions explode.
Jeff is a boy from a privileged household. But his family
are not perfect. His brother is holed up
in a Thai prison for drug smuggling. His
loving, but promiscuous sister is constantly blurring the lines and pushing the
boundaries, despite looking out for her little brother – when it suits
her. His father is the archetypical rich
dad – grumpy, business obsessed with a real estate deal that goes foul, and
blind to what’s happening in his own world – to his own family. His mother works, if only to escape boredom
of a rich captive lifestyle.
Jeff can’t rely on anything – except mathematics. Numerology and mathematics are the only
truths he knows. That interplays with a
mysterious woman who appears in his garden during a storm. She reappears again and again. She passes on strange messages, indicating
that she is not who she appears to be.
Everyone else passes her off as a strange deluded old lady but Jeff is
not so sure. Is she an angel? Or something else?
Cowley’s interplay between the false façade of adult
authority and a child’s interpretation of reality is highly imminent here. It’s wonderful to see how, as the story plays
out, the adults all fall over each other as the main character, Jeff, remains
true to himself to pull it all together.
It’s a story that will appeal to boys who don’t necessarily want to blow
everything up. Perhaps they might want
to spend some time dealing with the complications of growing up without the
puberty blues. In many ways this tale is
very real and ordinary. To mean that
gave it more authenticity. I also enjoyed
the bus trips and walks that Jeff took around the city of my childhood,
Wellington. I particularly enjoyed the
tiny insignificant details and that breathe life into this story and inflate it
just enough to carry it along. It’s a
delightful understated story.
Underlying is the morals of hope, when adults are too
obsessed to understand their children.
It’s not an original theme but it’s one worth revisiting. If boys, who notoriously shun any emotive,
sensitive literature can be encouraged to pick up this book then there is some
hope of getting through and perhaps changing a destiny or two. Perhaps there is something. So how do we make that happen?
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