33, NG20, F17, E33

Lisa Jewell, Watching You

Im Gegensatz zu The Passage reichte dieses Buch grade mal zwei Tage. Wie immer wurde ich regelrecht in die Handlung hineingesaugt, die diesmal schon fast wie ein echter Krimi daherkam, Red Herrings und Täuschungsmanöver inklusive. Bei der Schilderung von Tom Fitzwilliam musste ich immer wieder an die Bezeichnung denken, die Mary Stewart diesem Typ Mann in 'Thornyhold' nennt - Homme Fatale. Genau wie in Thornyhold ist sich dieser Typ Mann seiner Wirkung überhaupt nicht bewußt, zumindest stellt sich das am Ende heraus, nachdem Jewell mal wieder alle Vorerwartungen auf den Kopf stellt.
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But what do you do with an unattainable crush once it's yours to keep? What does it become? Should there perhaps be a word to describe it? Because that's the thing with getting what you want: all that yearning and dreaming and fantasising leaves a great big hole that can only be filled with more yearning and dreaming and fantasising. And maybe that's what lay at the root of Joey's sudden and unexpected obsession with Tom Fitzwilliam. Maybe he arrived at the precise moment that the hole in Joey's interior fantasy life needed filling.
And if it hadn't been him, maybe it would have been someone else instead.
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And he'd smiled sadly and said,'I didn't choose her. She chose me.'
She'd started at that. So similar to what Tom had said about Nicola. She wondered if that was how it worked, that while most women spent their lives searching for the perfect man, men sat around waiting to be chosen and then made the best of it.
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(Lisa Jewell, Watching You, 2018)

25, NG17, F15, E25

Lisa Jewell, The Truth about Melody Browne

Noch ein vom Fleck weg faszinierendes Buch, das mich von den ersten Seiten an in die Geschichte hineinsaugte. Wobei ich den Handlungsteil in der Gegenwart mit Melodys langsamer Öffnung und Neuentwicklung noch interessanter und spannender fand als die Geschichte ihrer Kindheit, ungewöhnlich wie sie war.
Allmählich sind nicht mehr viele Jewells übrig, alas. Im August kommt ein neues Buch, bis dahin werde ich die verbliebenen vermutlich auch geschafft haben ...

Parents, Melody realised, were the linchpin of normality, even when they were far from normal themselves. Parents, even distracted, slightly ambivalent parents, acted as a kind of a strainer through which life got poured. They were there, in essence, to catch the lumpy bits. Without parents, life felt oblique and directionless. Without a parent, the world was too close for comfort.

(Lisa Jewell, The Truth about Melody Browne, 2009)

22, NG15, F13, E22

Lisa Jewell, The Family Upstairs

Obwohl mir das Buch als eines der ersten von Lisa Jewell empfohlen wurde, zögerte ich damit es mir zuzulegen, hauptsächlich weil ich befürchtete es würde sich so bedrückend herausstellen wie 'And then She was Gone'. Aber das war unbegründet, zwar ist das Buch passagenweise sehr düster, aber nie hoffnungslos und alles endet gut - fast schon zu gut. Und überaus spannend war es obendrein.

21, NG14, F12, E21

Lisa Jewell, Before I met You

Die so beliebte Erzählweise mit zwei ineinander versetzten Handlungssträngen nervt mich oft genug, besonders wenn sie immer wieder mit einem Cliffhanger aufhören, aber andererseits finde ich sie auch ziemlich genial. Bei dieser Story von zwei jungen Frauen im London der frühen zwanziger bzw. mitt-neunziger Jahre fand ich die Geschichte von Betty, die ihr Glück in Soho versucht etwas ansprechender, aber nahe gingen sie mir beide - und machten viel Spaß obendrein.

20, NG13, F11, E20

Lisa Jewell, The Third Wife

Auch dieses Buch saugte mich binnen kürzester Zeit in das faszinierende und komplizierte Familiendrama hinein und ließ mich nicht mehr los, so dass ich das Buch einmal mehr viel schneller aushatte als geplant. Besonders bewunderswert ist hier, wie gekonnt Jewell mit den Erwartungen des Lesers spielt bis sich bei der Auflösung am Schluß alles anders herausstellt als gedacht.

He was aware that there would always be the last time for these intimate nuances of his relationships with his children and that often that time would pass unnoticed. When, for example, had Cat sat on his lap for the last time? When had he last kissed Otis on the lips, picked Pearl up in his arms, called Luke one of his childhood nicknames, held Beau up on his shoulders? He had no idea. He thought of crying at the leavers' ceremonies of his oldest children, knowing that he would never again see them in their primary uniforms, that they would never again be little. But there were no ceremonies for these other 'lasts', no realisation or acknowledgement that something precious was about to end.
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She had been so desperate to be a part of this, had watched the machinations of this life from a distance all those months, marvelling at the magical glow of it all: the Islington townhouse, the trophy wives and darling children, the weekends away en masse, the ramshackle parties, the legends, the traditions, the glittering story of them all and their sprawling mass of friends and people. She'd seen it, she'd smelled it and she'd wanted it. And now it was hers. And, like a shiny thing seen and coveted through the plate-glass windows of a fancy shop, now she had it in her hands it had lost its allure.
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(Lisa Jewell, The Third Wife, 2014)

16, NG12, F10, E16

Lisa Jewell, The Making of Us

Die Synopsis des Buches war schon so vielversprechend, dass ich nicht widerstehen konnte und mir das Buch auf den Paperwhite lud, als ich fürs erste genug von Krimis und Kurzgeschichten hatte. Und dann enttäuschte es nicht, sondern erwies sich als so spannend und nahezu unwiderstehlich - als ob es mich förmlich einsaugte - dass ich es kaum aus der Hand legen mochte und in zwei Tagen durchhatte. Schon die Idee ist einfach so ansprechend, drei völlig unterschiedliche Kinder eines Samenspenders, die zueinander und damit auch zu sich selbst finden und es auch schaffen, ihren biologischen Vater noch kennenzulernen bevor es zu spät ist. Jede einzelne der Geschichten wäre für sich schon ein Buch wert.

He had not chewed anything for days. He had not held a tea cup or picked up a paper for days. Death was playing a childisch game, tip-toeing around mischievously: 'Here I am! Oh, no, only joking, I'm over here... no, over here!' Every time she asked a nurse, 'How long? How long do you think?' she would be met with the same response. It could be anytime. Death did not just hit you with a stick and then walk away and leave you to die. Death fiddled about with you first. Death forced you head first into the toilet bowl of your demise and then yanked you back by the collar. Death was not as simple as Maggie had imagined.
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There she lay, her fists curled inwards towards her ears, a living, breathing amalgamation of a hundred thousand different people, all of whom had at some point in their lives had a night of passion with somebody else and made another one, outwards and onwards in ever-increasing circles, an unstoppable force of humanity extrapolating itself across millennia. Until here, in a small cottage in a Bury St. Edmunds backwater, it was all distilled down into one perfect, creamy pearly - Matilda.
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The more ill he becomes, the less he finds himself alone. Possibly because he sleeps for much longer but also because people do not like to leave the dying in case there is no one there to see them go. Like waiting for a bus, the more time you invest in awaiting the outcome the harder it is to walk away.
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(Lisa Jewell, The Making of Us, 2011

Neu gelesen: (als E-Book)

Lisa Jewell, The House we grew up in

Obwohl nicht so bedrückend wie 'And then she was gone' oder zu spannend wie 'I found You' gingen mir einige Stellen bei diesem Band doch sehr nah. Ganz abgesehen davon, dass es wieder eine sehr bewegende Familiengeschichte ist, bietet sie auch ganz ungewöhnliche Einblicke in das Seelenleben eines Hoarders oder Messies, Aspekte, die ich noch garnicht so betrachtet hatte und irgendwie auch nachvollziehen konnte.

You know, why wait for a certain day if you want to buy flowers now? Unimaginative really, isn't it, buying overpriced roses on the same day as everybody else. You know, you see a woman walking home with a bouquet of flowers, you think, Wow, someone really loves her! You see the same woman with the ame bouquet on Valentine's and you just get the feeling that someone was going through the motions.
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You know how you have a memory of something, and it's flat, you know, like a piece of paper. It's just a fact that you can recall. A moment. And then other times that memory extrapolates itself into something three-dimensional with smells and textures and colour? And you think to yourself; where was that hiding all this time? Do you ever get that, Jim? Well, as you know, that's why I keep so many things, because of that innate energy that things carry, that shadow of a memory that each thing casts.
...and then I realised that a spirit is just another word for a memory, isn't it? The stronger the memory the stronger the spirit. Because as much as I'd love to believe that the spirit lives on as a thing separate to humanity, I know that's not true. It's in our minds, in our hearts, that a person's spirit lives on.

(Lisa Jewell, The House we grew up in, 2013)