The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender – Leslye Walton // Walker Books, October 2014 // Review copy kindly provided by the publisher
The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender combines a number of things that appeal to me: a beautiful cover (though that might be a shallow reason), an interesting title (same), a multigenerational story that for once is told from the perspective of one person, and most of all it being the story about a girl with wings, it made me think of Eep by Joke van Leeuwen which I read and enjoyed two years ago. I was curious how this very different book would compare, because in some ways it does tackle the same themes of difference and love — themes that cannot help but be interesting, right?
To many, I was myth incarnate, the embodiment of a most superb legend, a fairy tale. Some considered me a monster, a mutation. To my great misfortune, I was once mistaken for an angel. To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost. But I knew the truth—deep down, I always did.
I was just a girl.
Ava Lavender is born with the wings of a bird. The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender traces the story of her grandmother and mother, as well as her extended family, as Ava tries to understand what makes her who she is. Love plays a key role in that history: familial, unrequited, long ignored, returned, and any other form of it.
Maybe it was because I had only recently finished The House of the Spirits by Allende, but Walton’s book reminded me a little of that: it shares the multigenerational storyline, the influence of magical realism as both deal with the intervening and lasting force of people who have died, and the engaging and sometimes poetic style. Mind you, I am not saying Walton writes like Allende (or that that is a bad or a good thing). It is just that I found both books to offer a very engaging style that draws you in right away. And in contrast with Allende’s book, my attention didn’t wane after the 100 page mark. Instead, it increased. Where at first I had to get used to Walton’s occasional use of repetition of certain phrasings throughout chapters, wondering if it didn’t feel awkward at times, I began to appreciate it more as it started to feel like a fitting portrayal of the echoes along generations from time to time. The book itself, the story, but also the style, drew me in along the way, and by the end I was loath to put it down at the end of a nursing session or because other work needed to be done.
Besides all the reasons I noted earlier on why Ava Lavender appealed to me from the start, upon finishing I can say that it has other things going for it as well: the worldbuilding, the characters (particularly Ava, Henry, Cardigan, and Rowe), the narration, and definitely the way in which the “weird” and otherworldly is portrayed as part of everyday life, or in a sense, really is regular like everything else. The only drawback for me? The very last pages had me a little confused. It certainly has that kind of ending where I am not sure what I am supposed to think. But in a way that fits the book perfectly as well?
Perhaps I appreciate the book more now that I sit down to write this post. Returning to the first words of the book, quoted above, upon having finished it, it is lovely to see the story comes full circle — or to see that a very brief version of it is actually told in that first paragraph. That may make it seem rather too simple or stylised, but instead I think it is quite an accomplishment to have such an image reverberate throughout the book — lovely, really, as is the whole of Ava Lavender‘s story.