In Portland, Maine, last week with 4 friends from college days who wanted 'to shop,' I ducked into the nearest bookstore, bought this book, settled into a worn old leather chair, and nearly finished the book by the time my friends returned to find me. Thank god for the salvation of a good book!
It's difficult for authors to write about sex. Most of the time, they come off sounding either like a Victorian maiden or a sly pornographer. But Deborah Joy Corey has written a book with a goodly amount of sexual interaction - and not a single line comes across as crass, voyeuristic, prurient, or sophomoric. It's absolutely beautiful writing.
The central story is Elizabeth's, a girl with parents both frustrated by their own demons. Tragedy is something they can't cope with, and soon Elizabeth find herself living alone and going rapidly downhill in a small town on the coast of Maine. She falls into the arms or clutches (depends on your viewpoint) of a much older man, an architect from New York. He's running from his own demons and finds a kind of warped salvation in his relationship with Elizabeth - but he, too leaves her.
I won't say more - but there's redemption, temptation, salvation - and a quiet love overriding everything in this lovely book.