Francey by Martin Dubow

The world is not a perfect place. Even when we fictionalize it, there must be, at minimum, a gritty element that allows the reader a hint of plausibility. In Francey by Martin Dubow we are brought into the world of a young girl who begins channeling a past life and with it she assumes the identity and the talents of her former self. Francey’s strange but vivid memories cause more than one public scene where diverse characters including a school teacher, an architect and an English lord, attached to her past life are brought together in their current day bodies.

If all of this sounds a little unusual then you are not alone in that thought. Aside from a badly written flashback of sixteenth century romance, no attempt is ever made to explain why any of this is happening or why we should care. The reader is expected to accept these coincidences hands down while never questioning the validity of the events. Worse yet, Francey’s sudden but spectacular artistic abilities should bring us deeper into the study of art and its old masters but it only touches the borders of this majestic world. I already knew Rembrandt’s name, tell me something I don’t know. Nothing is ventured or gained from this absence of exploration even though it is entirely relevant to the story.

At its core Francey sets a scene where three hundred year old personalities, obviously considered superior to modern ones, are thrust forward in time to settle past emotional entanglements. What the text does not do is allow the reader to become entangled themselves. It is absent of the kind of drama expected of such works. During the action no one ever trips on a step, skins a knee or embarrasses themselves. Despite the background of New York City, the story displays a frigid but harmless setting where everyone is emotionally stable and willing to connect the wildest of speculations. They do this while being tender, uniquely loving and thus supremely boring. This book badly needed a skeptic or a villain. It needed some blood pumping beneath the flowery images and insincere dialogue. Ultimately, it needs a severe rewrite including a barrel of research and a keg of conflict otherwise I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody.

Janeology by Karen Harrington

A good book will use a strong first chapter to capture your interest but a great book will knock you on your ass in the first two sentences. Janeology by Karen Harrington doesn’t let you escape the prologue without feeling the utmost sympathy for the main character. Tom has just lost one of his children to infanticide. The murderer was his own wife. As we enter the story she is already sitting in jail, and it is Tom who is being accused of negligence. It was Tom who left the kids alone with their mother despite her depression. Shouldn’t Tom have known better? Isn’t this murder really his fault for not paying attention?

What more could you want from a situation tragedy? Here we have a despondent father who feels guilty about the death of his son, an ambitious lawyer who sees the chance to save an innocent man, and a psychic. Okay, the psychic was a surprise even to me, and her presence did flub the credibility of the story a little, but her contribution was important for the reader. Jane is the wife and mother who killed her child, but the question of guilt has already been answered so it’s not a matter of who did it but rather why she did it. Tom’s lawyer has a bizarre strategy meant to bring about the ultimate answer to the question of nature verses nurture.

Despite the excellent plot, Janeology does slow down in parts as we get to know the history behind these tragic events. A litany of seemingly unconnected stories forms a sullen backdrop for the modern day murder, but does so with a sometimes forced intention. The author did a fine job of making us care but the emotions were only skin deep. It was like reading a long magazine article about a real life story instead of reading a novel. Even the main topic of infanticide was brought up for show, but not explored.

Judging by the wild swinging start of the book I assumed Janeology to be one that could not be put down. However, it wasn’t designed for the long haul and ran out of gas midway through, passing the finish line while coasting on fumes. Even though it fell short of greatness, it remains a worthy read. You might not be knocked on your ass, but you’ll have to sit down for this one.