Take a photo of a barcode or cover
onceuponanisabel 's review for:
The Language of Cherries
by Jen Marie Hawkins
This book kind of surprised me. I went into it looking for another hit for my magical realism addiction, but to be honest, that wasn't quite exactly what I got. But I'm not mad about it.
The Language of Cherries is the story of Evie Perez, an American girl spending the summer in Iceland with her father. Leaving behind a chaotic life in Florida, Evie discovers a local cherry orchard and befriends the woman who owns it and her jaded nephew, Oskar. Afraid to reveal his stutter, Oskar pretends he doesn't know English, and Evie begins to spill her life story to him while she paints.
The story is told in dual POVs, Evie's and Oskar's. One thing I didn't love about the book is that those POVs are told in different formats: Evie's in third-person narration and Oskar's as first-person excerpts from his journal, where he writes exclusively in freeform poems. Initially, I didn't like it. Switching perspective every chapter was jarring and I'm generally not a fan of books in verse. The poetry did grow on me by the end, but the perspective switches never stopped bothering me.
Evie and Oskar's love story was really touching and poignant, and I ended up loving it much more than I expected. This is a deceptively simple story that's kind of hard to explain because so much of it is in the atmosphere and the magic, which is what I love about magical realism.
Because Oskar refuses to speak English to Evie, their relationship takes a long, long time to go anywhere. However, that same language barrier made the telling of the story feel much more intimate, somehow. It was different and refreshing to unfold a relationship that exists so beautifully for both characters, but that they never have a single conversation about. I'm not sure it's particularly realistic or healthy, but it was lovely to read.
All in all, The Language of Cherries is a quiet book. Nothing about it felt urgent or thrilling. But honestly, I don't see that as a drawback at all. It was about beautiful art, and beautiful music, and love. Sometimes, that's enough.
ARC provided by the publisher via NetGalley.
The Language of Cherries is the story of Evie Perez, an American girl spending the summer in Iceland with her father. Leaving behind a chaotic life in Florida, Evie discovers a local cherry orchard and befriends the woman who owns it and her jaded nephew, Oskar. Afraid to reveal his stutter, Oskar pretends he doesn't know English, and Evie begins to spill her life story to him while she paints.
The story is told in dual POVs, Evie's and Oskar's. One thing I didn't love about the book is that those POVs are told in different formats: Evie's in third-person narration and Oskar's as first-person excerpts from his journal, where he writes exclusively in freeform poems. Initially, I didn't like it. Switching perspective every chapter was jarring and I'm generally not a fan of books in verse. The poetry did grow on me by the end, but the perspective switches never stopped bothering me.
Evie and Oskar's love story was really touching and poignant, and I ended up loving it much more than I expected. This is a deceptively simple story that's kind of hard to explain because so much of it is in the atmosphere and the magic, which is what I love about magical realism.
Because Oskar refuses to speak English to Evie, their relationship takes a long, long time to go anywhere. However, that same language barrier made the telling of the story feel much more intimate, somehow. It was different and refreshing to unfold a relationship that exists so beautifully for both characters, but that they never have a single conversation about. I'm not sure it's particularly realistic or healthy, but it was lovely to read.
All in all, The Language of Cherries is a quiet book. Nothing about it felt urgent or thrilling. But honestly, I don't see that as a drawback at all. It was about beautiful art, and beautiful music, and love. Sometimes, that's enough.
ARC provided by the publisher via NetGalley.