French Braid: From the Sunday Times bestselling author of Redhead by the Side of the Road

A wonderful tale of a family unit, and the individuals who are a part of it. Mercy Garrett, while never a natural homemaker, has done her bit and now that the children are grown up and off her hands, she is putting herself first and concentrating on her art. She is slowly moving out of her home and into her studio – so slowly that none of the family want to make a thing of it. She wants a clutter-free life with clean lines and no knick-knacks – the things which have crowded the family home for all her married life. Although you can clear out your living space, you can’t clear away the memories – and Mercy’s head is packed full of those. I’ve always been fond of a good family saga and this is one of the best. Revealing memories over the decades along with life today, there is always something going on to keep the reader hooked. Entertaining and enthralling, I felt as if I was reading about a family I knew personally. Not only is this a beautifully written novel, it also subtly catalogues shifting attitudes over the period. There are highs and lows and I loved them all. A complete picture of one family which kept me trying so hard not to race through the pages, wanting to make the story last. If you enjoy a family tale spread over the years, then this is one I recommend. 4.5*.

When I first started reading this book I must admit that I didn't think that I was going to like it.............then I got drawn in. This is the story of the Garret family, a story that crosses generations from the mid 1950s to the present day, an ordinary family. The Garrets are quite dysfunctional, each of them have their own particular foibles, father Robin who worries what people think, mother Mercy who aspires to be an artist but her aspirations are bigger than her talent, no nonsense eldest daughter Alice, second daughter flighty, erratic, boy mad Lily and reserved, deep thinking but misunderstood, David. It wasn't a normal household by any means, there was very little family bonding. As I read further into the book I began to realise that the author had a great perception of everyday life, we can all relate to people like the Garrets, the way that everyone enquires what the traffic was like when guests arrive, Ann Tyler writes about life, she writes about everyday things that most of us don't notice, her observations of the changes to all our lives when the pandemic struck are spot on, chatting to neighbours over the garden fence, neighbours who are normally at work and too busy to chat, families deciding that they like walking and meeting the same people on their daily walks, the worry of loved ones on the front line. This story takes you through first loves, weddings, family disagreements, deaths, there is laughter and there is heartbreak. This book is far outside my usual genre but I did find it an enjoyable read. I received a free copy of this book and my review is voluntary.

“So this is how it works. This is what families do for each other - hide a few uncomfortable truths, allow a few self-deceptions. Little kindnesses. And little cruelties.” French Braid is the twenty-fourth novel by best-selling, award-winning American author, Anne Tyler. The Garrett family, people would tell you, is fairly unremarkable. They’re living what they see as fairly unremarkable lives Baltimore. Yes, there are little quirks, minor grudges, small resentments, as in every family. But also love in its many manifestations. To pique our initial interest, there’s Serena Drew, meeting her (newish) boyfriend’s Philadelphia parents. A chance encounter, on the journey home to Baltimore, with her cousin, draws attention to the fact that the Garretts don’t see each other very much, unlike the boyfriend’s sprawling family. To understand why, we need to go back to the late 1950s. The Garret family on their one and only vacation, at Deep Creek Lake: Robin demonstrates his inexperience with relaxing; Mercy gets out her sketchbook and pencils and indulges in her art; seventeen-year-old Alice takes over the responsibility of feeding the family and watching over her siblings; at fifteen, Lily is quickly distracted from her sulk about leaving one boy behind by the attentions of another, older one, from whom she seems to expect a proposal; and David, to his father’s frustration, is uninterested in the water, or learning to swim. It is always such a pleasure to read a book by Anne Tyler, and this one has you chickling all the way through, unless you are laughing out loud or saying “oh, dear” or “oh, my”, and once or twice, choking up or shedding a tear. Nothing terribly dramatic happens: readers wanting action and excitement need to look elsewhere; but Tyler’s special talent is making ordinary lives shine. Tyler is wonderful at character description: “It always puzzled Alice, how boys would flock to Lily. Oh, she was pretty enough, in a round-faced, dimply sort of way, but that didn't explain why they grew so alert when she walked into a room. It seemed she gave off some kind of high-pitched signal that only male ears could detect. (Grown men as well as boys. Alice had noticed more than one friend's father sending Lily the same sharp arrows of awareness.)” As always, many of her characters are a little eccentric, but their observations on life are insightful at the same time as being amusing. Serena illustrates “I can criticise my family, but you can’t”; Mercy tells her granddaughter “Sometimes people live first one life and then another life... First a family life and then later a whole other kind of life. That's what I'm doing” but she does it subtly to spare feelings from being hurt; Alice considers herself the sensible one, even if some see her as a killjoy. Each of eight chapters is from the perspective of a different family member, giving their particular view of certain events or circumstances. If Lily’s husband sees the Garretts as narrow and unfriendly and judgemental, it’s not how they see themselves. And Tyler’s prose is a joy: “The only sounds in the studio were the whiskery strokes of their two brushes. She'd grown used to hearing old-people music but evidently Mercy preferred to work in silence, and Candle saw her point. Silence made what she was doing seem more important, somehow - more purposeful, almost like praying.” Wonderful, as always!