Earlier this year I read The Kitchen House. I am going to be honest: I really hesitated writing this review. It's going to get controversial. But then I figured, why not?
Let's start with the summary.
Lavinia is just a little girl when she comes to a tobacco plantation from Ireland. She is put into the care of the slaves of the plantation, and yet she is forever separated from them by her white skin.
As time goes on and Lavinia ages, she is forced to straddle two worlds, where her skin colour, her loyalties, and her family is all called into question.
There is danger, and heartache, and just really not-good things going on here. This is not a happy story.
Let's start with the positive, shall we?
I like Grissom's writing style. Her descriptions are lush, and her perspective is unique. Lavinia represents a story not frequently heard: that of indentured Irish servants.
I love that Grissom is Canadian. I am bias, and I don't really care; I love supporting Canadian authors.
Grissom has the potential to tell a rich, riveting story. All the pieces are here.
And yet, it falls flat somehow.
Part of the reason that I so hesitated to write this review is the time it has taken to put my finger on exactly what was wrong with the book.
I like historical fiction, and I am intrigued by heartbreaking stories that are set in the worst moments of humanity's history. So I should have loved this story.
But I didn't.
It reminds me of the movie P.S. I Love You. I like sappy romantic movies. I don't mind crying in movies. But I cried from the opening scene straight through to the credits. No break. No build up. Just all kinds of bad, all the time, leaving me with a bad headache, swollen eyes, and no desire to ever watch that movie again.
This book was kind of like that.
It never let me breathe. It hit me over the head with racism and slavery and rape and abuse, and never stopped.
This may have been okay, but in the sea of other, similar books, it just didn't stand out.
I didn't connect to any of the characters, except perhaps Mama Mae, so all of the sympathy I felt for them was just because of the people they represented, not because I cared about them as people. Perhaps it was the melodrama of the plot, perhaps it was the jumping-around in perspective (Belle's chapters were just too short for me to care), perhaps it was just the passivity and naivety of Lavinia, perhaps it was the prologue that gave away so much before the story even began. Regardless, I was disconnected from the characters, and what should have been moving, and upsetting, and rich, ended up somewhat hollow.
Now, do not get me wrong. I did like this book. I read it all in one sitting, even. But there are so many other books in the world, especially dealing with this horrible time in history, and this one just wasn't quite special enough for me to recommend as readily as I would recommend others.
Perhaps if I had gone in with lower expectations, I would have enjoyed it more. But it had so many components I should have loved, that I was left disappointed when I didn't.
What are some books that you should have loved, but just didn't? Any that just left you shrugging, thinking, "meh"? Comment below, and don't forget to subscribe to my site, through my contact page, here.