My gaze settles on the book in Jessica’s hands before rising to meet her eyes. “First, tell me something about the author.”
Jessica meets my gaze with a sliver of a smile. “Karen Kingsbury is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Has written seventy, eighty novels. Four have been made into Hallmark Channel TV movies.”
I stare at Jessica’s face, my eyes drinking her in like a man in a desert. “Wow! Sounds like a heavy hitter.” I grab a chilled can of Asahi beer from an ottoman beside me and take a sip.
Jessica and I are sitting on a carpeted nook in her living room with big pillows, small throw-pillows and bean bags scattered around. The scent of her perfume kisses my cheeks and soft jazz music from the hi-fi soothes my soul.
“Oceans Apart has a strong opening situation.” Jessica’s voice climbs an octave for emphasis. “A plane crashes into the ocean, killing everyone, including stewardess Kiahna, a single mother. Her will states that her seven-year old son Max, fathered by pilot Connor out of a one-night stand, will be sent to stay with his dad for two weeks. This bloke’s married.” Jessica’s neutral expression slips away and turns severe. “But the boy will be told that Connor is his mother’s friend. At the end of the two weeks, the two-timing bastard can either accept the boy or send him home for adoption. So, Kiahna’s lawyer in Honolulu contacts Connor in Florida. Connor pees in his pants when he hears the news!” Jessica’s hazel eyes dance with mirth. “Coz he never knew he has an illegitimate son.”
I uncross my legs and stretches them straight. “So, Connor told his wife about his son?”
“Yes, he did. But Michele, Connor’s wife, didn’t clobber him with a broom. That’s what that fucker deserved in the first place!” Scorn laces Jessica’s voice. “The couple quarrels and, later, Michele allows her husband to let Max come. From here onward, the story bogs down with descriptions of Connor’s camping trip with Max and his two daughters. This episode should be the climax of the story as Connor tries to bond with his son but it has not been handled that well. I shan’t elaborate more so as not to give away the entire plot.”
I take another gulp of my beer. “What else you don’t like about the story?”
Jessica removes her spectacles and puts the book down. “First, it’s improbable that Kiahna has made a will at the age of twenty-something." Sitting straighter, she stretches her hands behind her head to tie her long hair into a pony tail. "And why is she so dumb to have raw sex with Connor? There’s also an incident where a tree branch crashes through Kiahna’s bedroom window and hits her on the head, while she’s lying in bed.” She squishes her brows in disbelief. “It’s a bit far-fetched this thing can happen. I also don’t like that Kiahna is portrayed both as a Jezebel and a saint as revealed later by her journal entries.”
“Is the book preachy?”
“Moderately. References from the Scriptures are as frequent as mentions of God. Then, in a flashback scene, when Connor is getting physical with Kiahna, God’s voice in his head tells him to back off. But, unfortunately, Connor’s dick is stronger than God!” Jessica releases a chuckle, punching two dimples in her cheeks. “All in all, nothing wrong with being preachy in a Christian fiction.”
I lace my fingers together and rest my hands on my lap “What about the prose? I mean, style of writing.”
“A bit too sparse, a bit too straightforward for my liking. Several scenes happen in Hawaii but there’s not even a one-liner describing the setting. Also, the author’s sentences are on the long side. This writing style dilutes the tension in dramatic scenes.”
Jessica picks up the book from the carpet. “Forgiveness is the theme of this book.” She opens to a certain page in the book. “Let me read from the author’s note.” She wears her spectacles and sucks in an inhale. “Kingsbury writes ‘Forgiveness doesn't make a problem go away; it simply gives you the peace Christ intended. Often, when both parties are willing to work on a relationship, healing will come. But sometimes it doesn't. Even then, forgiveness is the only way to the freedom Jesus wanted for us, the freedom He died for.’ ” She raises one knee, drapes an arm over it and rests her chin on the latter. “That’s damn good advice.” Jessica blinks, her eyelashes fluttering as if to fly her away. “Speaking of forgiveness reminds me of something.”
I cock my head sideways. “Oh? What?”
Jessica glances up, capturing my gaze with a potent one of her own, and my heart almost seizes. “When I was a little girl, I used to pray every night for a Barbie doll, until I realized that God doesn’t work that way. So I stole one and asked Him to forgive me instead.”
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