Thank goodness for authors like Laurie Boris. She reminds me that the indie-author world is, mercifully, populated by some topnotch authors (a recent read exasperated me somewhat!). Think of when you’ve had an absolutely rotten day at work, you’ve lost the heel off your shoe, a hideous journey home and it’s still only Monday, but you get home, put the fire on, put your feet up, pour a glass of wine and enjoy a TV dinner. That ghastly day you’ve had fades away, and all is good with the world once again.
That’s how I feel when I pick up a book by Laurie. I get that 'aaaaaaah' feeling. Invariably, she ticks all the boxes:
I'm hooked on page one.
The characters are immaculately drawn and defined.
The story neatly structured.
Her writing is faultless.
The editing exemplary.
...all round excellence, in fact.
This book doesn’t stray from the path of superiority, I've become accustomed to with this author. It’s a story about a woman with a terminal illness. A woman whose two sons and daughter-in-law find out accidentally. Apart from the unanswered questions why they were not told earlier about this distressing news, the issue opens a Pandora’s box of secrets, lies and unspoken emotions. Three people whose lives were ambling along in an okayish, bordering on mediocre, way, suddenly find they’re walking on a tightrope of relationships. The tensions build as the reader learns whether the truth and revelations see them falling off or reaching the other side.
Along with the impeccable character portrayal and beautifully conceived story…poignant, sad, shocking even…Laurie manages to mix in a little, but perfectly balanced, humour. The result? A five-star book.