From: Rachel Ward
To: Regina Davis
Re: What I liked best about "The Lovely Bones"
Posted: Sunday, Nov. 3, 6:50 p.m.
Regina,
It's easy to pick out what I liked best about "The Lovely Bones." I liked the realism. I know that sounds strange, considering the main character is a dead teen-ager watching her killer and grieving family from heaven, but the whole book is as real as it is surreal. There are few pat answers and no saints in this story. The characters are wonderfully shaded human beings with follies and compassion, weakness, courage, love and pain. They aren't meant to represent "every parent" or "every sibling" -- they only stand for themselves. It was refreshing and heart-wrenching at the same time. I ended up caring a lot more about the flawed, emotional Salmon tribe than I had expected, or even wanted.
All were extraordinarily realized characters, save one: Mr. Harvey. What a puzzle he is. On the one hand, he is absolutely brimming with volatile compulsions that burst out of him into violence and death. On the other, he is a ghost himself, only a shadow of a real man and apparently just waiting to die. He never got over his mother deserting him, and it was never clear just why she left. I think Harvey himself wasn't clear on it. He was so young when it happened, and his father never explained it to him, not really. It also seemed that his father drove her away as much as she ran. Harvey must have had a lot of anger about what his parents did. I thought that instead of dealing with the anger and grief properly, he turned it inward until it poisoned him and came howling out in psychotic episodes.
At first, I wanted Mr. Harvey to be as well-drawn as the rest of the characters and was disappointed that he was not. But by the end of the story I came to realize that the author probably intended for him to be a pale comparison. It served the purpose of suspense to leave him an enigma. It was symbolic of his broken, shadow personality that the reader and the other characters were left in the dark about his psychotic mind's workings. In many ways, I think he was as much in the dark as anyone. He tried to stop killing girls so many times, and each time he failed. If he had some insight into himself, he may have been able to stop. Since he did not, it was fitting that Susie got her wish: Death by icicle.
Wow, that ended up being a lot more than I had intended. The ball's in your court! :)

From: Regina Davis
To: Rachel Ward
Re: A likeable heroine
Posted: Sunday, Nov. 3 8:41 p.m.
Rachel --
I agree with what you said about the realism being an appealing aspect of Packer's book. But for me, realism is important for a different reason: My favorite part of the book is the heroine, Susie (Salmon, like the fish).
I really liked this girl. Packer does a good job of making Susie come across as the average teenager, albeit one whose perspective has been altered by death. Susie is everything you expect her to be: She still longs for the comforting embrace of her mother, she still feels the giddiness of her first (unfulfilled) crush and she longs for what most children of divorced parents would love to see -- her parents' reconciliation.
But she's more grownup, too. When she talks about her violent death, she does so in an honest, matter of fact way. The language of this scene makes it very realistic, and although the idea of telling such a story from the perspective of the dead victim is not a new one, this story seems different and new.
My favorite scene (and I posted this on the Book Club Website as an excerpt) is where Susie remembers a soft summer night when she sat on her family's porch and enjoyed the cool breeze of an approaching storm. The way Packer describes this scene -- the smells, the quiet sounds of a suburban neighborhood in the evening, the softness of her cotton nightgown as it brushed against her legs in the breeze -- struck a chord with me. These are my favorite times of summer, in the evening when a storm slowly moves into the area. And to me, it feels just like Packer describes it in the book.
Just like you wanted to see Mr. Harvey become a more well-developed character, I was similarly disappointed that the detective, Len, didn't have more depth. I wanted to know what happened to his wife, more details about why he blamed himself for her death.
And what about Susie's mother, what do you make of her? To me, she wasn't a very sympathetic character, even though she was obviously in a great deal of anguish over Susie's death. Still, I couldn't like her very much, and I was surprised that the rest of the family welcomed her back so easily when Susie's father became ill.
What's your take?
Regina

From:Rachel Ward
To: Regina Davis
Re: Not such a warm welcome
Posted: Monday, Nov. 4 3:22 a.m.
You wrote "But she's [Susie] more grownup, too. When she talks about her violent death, she does so in an honest, matter of fact way. The language of this scene makes it very realistic, and although the idea of telling such a story from the perspective of the dead victim is not a new one, this story seems different and new."
I totally agree with that. The reader actually feels safe with Susie as the guide. Instead of Stephen King-like chills, the point of talking about the murder is to set up the reason for everything else in the book. I think you're right to say the story seemed different and new, as well. While I have read other stories in which the victim tells about his or her own death, it was always for dramatic effect. This was more exposition than drama, and I think that's what was fresh about it.
You also wrote: "My favorite scene is where Susie remembers a soft summer night when she sat on her family's porch and enjoyed the cool breeze of an approaching storm."
I like that scene, but it's not my favorite. I have several "favorites," actually, but the one I'll single out describes perfectly what an insightful and intelligent girl Susie really is. Susie mentions several times how much she liked to take pictures when she was alive, but one particular photo had captured her imagination more than any other. It was of her mother, in an unguarded moment, when she wasn't being anything for anyone else.
Her description of finding her mother sitting outside on the porch in the early morning, holding a cup of coffee and thinking about what her life would have been like if she had followed her dreams and ambitions was as telling as it was gripping. I think I knew right then that her mother was going to leave, and that maybe Susie always thought she would, too. Susie loved her mom so much, loved all aspects of her, that she could appreciate this Abigail person, this lady with the "ocean eyes" that she didn't even know. I suppose it's fascinating to me because in a way it reminds me of my own mother. She is a total "mom type" when we're visiting at home, but she is also someone else: Ellen, the director of her own nonprofit organization, the one who swims through government red tape for her blind sister, the woman who took on a whole school system so my brother could get the education he deserved, one of the leaders who fought to get mental health parity passed in our state. I don't know Ellen as well as I do Mom, but she's there all the same. The difference (thank goodness!) is that Mrs. Salmon didn't know how to be Abigail and Mom, while mine knows perfectly well who she is and balances them.
Another quote from you: "Just like you wanted to see Mr. Harvey become a more well-developed character, I was similarly disappointed that the detective, Len, didn't have more depth. I wanted to know what happened to his wife, more details about why he blamed himself for her death."
I thought Len was about as fleshed out as he needed to be. The whole point of his character was to be a plot device -- a functional guy, but in the end, not someone who will remain in the circle of the Salmons. As for details about his wife's death, I thought it was pretty straightforward. Perhaps it's because my cousin committed suicide when I was a child that I have a different perspective. It has been my experience that relatives of those who commit suicide blame themselves. "If only I had listened," or "if only I had been there to stop him!" are common thoughts. The feelings never fully go away, especially if the survivor thinks that their own emotional neglect, workaholic habits or other faults directly caused the suicide. On second thought, maybe the author did need to flesh that out a bit, so that those who haven't had a suicide in the family can understand the devastating guilt and remorse that people go through when it happens.
"And what about Susie's mother, what do you make of her?"
She is one complicated lady! I think in a nutshell she is a classic example of why you should never give up your own dreams and wishes just to make someone else happy. If she had not decided to throw away all her own priorities, then she would have never felt the need to "get away" from the box that she put herself into. It's especially frustrating when you consider the fact that Jack Salmon never asked or even wanted Abigail to give herself up to be a wife and mother. I suppose she thought that she had to start over to find Abigail again. Of course it's obvious to the reader that without her family, that plan is doomed to fail. Her family is as much a part of her as her old ambitions, and the only way to "find herself" is to reconcile the two sides of her personality, instead of putting herself in a new box.
>From you: "To me, she wasn't a very sympathetic character, even though she was obviously in a great deal of anguish over Susie's death. Still, I couldn't like her very much, and I was surprised that the rest of the family welcomed her back so easily when Susie's father became ill."
She wasn't all that sympathetic, no. I think she made bad choices in her life, and didn't know who she really was. Susie's death simply jarred her from the box she'd made for herself, and she realized she didn't know how to get back in it. I do sympathize with her somewhat just because she is the mother of a murdered child, but I cannot approve of the fact that she left her family high and dry soon after that, especially little Buckley. Did I like her? Not really. But Jack still loved her in spite of everything, and maybe that makes her a bit more redeemable than she otherwise would be.
As for a warm reception, we got two totally different impressions! I did not feel that she received a warm welcome at all. Buckley foully cursed at her on the ride home and let her see just how much she had hurt him by leaving, which made her break down in tears. Lindsey demanded to know if Abigail was going to hurt Jack again, and didn't really trust her answer. Lindsey also put Abigail on notice that she knew about the affair with Len, and Abigail replied, "I stand warned." Grandma Lynn was glad to see her daughter and had hopes for the future, but didn't make any big production out of it. Jack was the only person who said, "It's wonderful to have you back."
It is true that the family started picking up the pieces at the end of the story, "the lovely bones" of connections and everyday occurrences that bind people. But uneasy acceptance is the phrase I would use to describe Abigail's homecoming. I felt everyone knew Jack needed her, whether they liked it or not, so they dealt with it for his sake. She still has a lot of trust to earn, a lot of respect and love to win back from her wounded family. While at the end you believe that eventually everything will be all right, you also know that it isn't going to be a smooth, straight road.

From: Regina Davis
To: Rachel Ward
Re: Open arms
Posted: Monday, Nov. 4 1:30 p.m.
By referring to Susie as the child of divorced parents, I meant that although her parents aren't legally divorced, they certainly aren't funtioning as a couple. Throughout the story it seems very important to Susie that Jack and Abigail reconcile in some way. And not just that, it seems that she hopes that her family will be able to get past her death and continue just as they were before. She seems especially saddened that her death has, in effect, destroyed her family.
Speaking of family, isn't it interesting how Susie's family had morphed into something else by the end of the book? At the start they are the traditional family: stay at home mom, father the wage-earner, 3 kids, suburbs ... you get the picture. But by the end of the story they have become the opposite of that picture: Grandma Lynn has taken over the "mom" role, Lindsey's boyfriend and his biker brother have become members of the family, and especially important to Buckley.
I'm glad you mentioned Grandma Lynn. Wasn't she a hoot? Tottering around their quiet, sad house in her pumps and dresses and makeup, maybe a little tipsy at the same time? It's interesting how sometimes the member of the family that no one takes seriously is the one that pulls it together in the worst of times.
About Abigail's not so warm welcome, yes Buckley and Lindsey were very angry and resentful toward her, but Jack seemed willing to continue as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just abandoned all of them. I kept waiting for him to be angry, rude, wary, suspicious, SOMETHING!
So here's my next question: This book is HUGE. Everybody is talking about it, it's on all the best seller lists, etc. But for the most part it's such a sad story, and until you actually start reading it many people believe that it is violent as well. What do you think it is about this book that has caught the interest of so many people?

From: Rachel Ward
To:Regina Davis
Re: Whirlwind
Posted:Monday, Nov. 4 6:30 p.m.
In response to your comment, Jack was the biggest softie of the bunch. The children, in self-defense, had erected some emotional armor. But Jack ... well, in order to be there for the kids, and to remember Susie the way he wanted, he couldn't harden his heart. If Grandma Lynn had disappeared, then yes, I would agree that he would be wary and resentful. But I think since he knew Abigail as well as Mrs. Salmon (that old dichotomy again), and in his own words fell in love with her again while she was away ... well, in his own mind, he was ready for her to come back. It is possible that he had some resentment and frustration early on, and as the book sped through time more rapidly toward the end, that was glossed over. I find it hard to believe that he never had any negative emotions toward Abigail for leaving. But you are also right in thinking it was a plot device. Susie needed certain things to happen before she could leave the "limbo heaven" of Evensong and move on to the next phase of her journey, where her grandfather went. She wanted to see her family back together and on the road to recovery, and she got it. A little forced, yes, but not totally unrealistic.
About Grandma Lynn: LOL! I think a "little toasted" is a bit of an understatement. But she was functional enough, and a great character to boot. She provided a much-needed female role model for the children, a dose of common sense, and some much-needed humorous moments. Wasn't it great when she got sloshed and put makeup on Lindsey? It was funny to the adults, but in the privacy of her own room, Lindsey loved it and thought about growing up. Grandma Lynn did several things for both children that Abigail couldn't.
You commented: "It's interesting how sometimes the member of the family that no one really takes seriously can be the one with the most strength in a tragic situation."
It's funny that you mention that. Remember when Abigail realized that all along she had thought she was the strong person in the Salmon couple, when in fact it was Jack? No matter how bad it got, he always had enough strength to keep giving to the others. She didn't, and she left. I love all the small revelations all the characters have throughout the story.
I really liked Sam. He's solid, creative and intelligent. He was exactly what Lindsey needed. I can see why she fell in love with him; in a lot of ways, Sam is like Jack Salmon.
Regarding your question, "What is it about the book that you think makes it so appealing to readers?" Susie is awesome, first of all. Secondly, the book is a wonderful character study. Everyone is just so vivid. Plus, you can't go wrong with adding a touch of religion, murder and a bit of sex. There are so many intriguing questions that you want the answers to: Will Mr. Harvey be caught? Will he get his? Will Susie's family be OK? Will Jack and Abby reconcile? What is Susie's future? Will poor Ruth and Ray ever get over Susie and get together?
The questions are mostly answered, in their own good time. There's just enough left to speculate about that you can debate with your friends. What can I say? It's powerful, emotional, a whirlwind you don't mind being caught up in. I feel like a fool for admitting this, but I cried when I finished it. I was sad that Susie had to leave her life behind, but I was happy that she had reached acceptance and that her family was going to be OK.
And the story has universal appeal. Everyone has lost someone. Everyone understands being broken and putting oneself back together again. Most people fear death, and hope that good things wait for them on the other side of it. This book both comforted and disturbed, haunted and healed. Above all, it made you think about your own life and your own priorities. "What if that happened to someone I loved? What would I do?" Pretty heavy stuff, but the kind of thing that gets people talking. If "The Lovely Bones" wasn't huge, I would be shocked.
And as for Mr. Harvey, I saw that twice-mentioned icicle coming, but it was still extremely satisfying when it nailed him. :)
Rachel