Book club kit The mothers : a novel The mothers :

Review by New York Times Review

ROGUE HEROES: The History of the SAS, Britain's Secret Special Forces Unit That Sabotaged the Nazis and Changed the Nature of War, by Ben Macintyre. (Crown, $28.) An entertaining history of the S.A.S. from its North African desert origins. CITY OF DREAMS: The 400-Year Epic History of Immigrant New York, by Tyler Anbinder. (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, $35.) A richly textured guide to the past of the nation's chief immigrant city. THE MAN WHO KNEW: The Life and Times of Alan Greenspan, by Sebastian Mallaby. (Penguin Press, $40.) This thorough account of the former Fed chairman's rise depicts him as political to a fault. THE WORD DETECTIVE: Searching for the Meaning of It All at the Oxford English Dictionary, by John Simpson. (Basic Books, $27.99.) From a former chief editor of the O.E.D., a charmingly frank account of a career dedicated to lexicography. DO NOT SAY WE HAVE NOTHING, by Madeleine Thien. (Norton, $26.95.) A Chinese-Canadian professor probes the mystery of her father's life amid upheavals in China in this ambitious novel. AMERICAN PHILOSOPHY: A Love Story, by John Kaag. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $26.) Kaag engages in a spirited lover's quarrel with the individualism of our national thought. THE MOTHERS, by Brit Bennett. (Riverhead, $26.) Three young people come of age in a black community in Southern California in this complex, ferociously moving debut novel. THE MORTIFICATIONS, by Derek Palacio. (Tim Duggan, $27.) This sweeping debut novel limns the exile and return of a Cuban-American family. RICH AND PRETTY, by Rumaan Alam. (Ecco/ HarperCollins, $25.99.) An astute debut novel about two women's long but fraying friendship. The full reviews of these and other recent books are on the web: nytimes.com/books.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 13, 2016]

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In a black Southern California community, 17-year-old Nadia deals with the grief of her mother's suicide by throwing herself into a relationship with Luke, the pastor's son. The resulting pregnancy and abortion are hastily covered up, and Nadia and Luke go their separate ways. Yet years later, the secret causes ripples that deeply affect their adult lives. Meanwhile, the elderly women of the church-"the mothers," as they are called-act as a kind of Greek chorus, having their say in alternating chapters, gossip mixed with wisdom. Reader Ojo creates believable voices for all the characters-the church women and Nadia, Luke, and Nadia's friend Aubrey both as teens and as adults. She ably brings out all the characters' conflicting emotions and their complicated relationships. A Riverhead hardcover. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

The collective elder mothers of Upper Room Chapel open with a Greek chorus-esque recitation about happenings affecting their congregation. At the center of the chatter is Nadia, 17, who had "earned a wild reputation" since her mother committed suicide six months earlier; the Upper Room elders know that Nadia is pregnant by the pastor's son Luke. Desperate to be somewhere else, Nadia chooses the promises of a prestigious college-degreed future, has an abortion, and leaves. The repercussions will continue for years. Relationships crumble, reignite, repair, and disappear among family, friends, and lovers, but the inescapable reach of the mothers-even the missing and lost mothers-looms. Debut novelist Bennett finds an ideal accomplice in narrator Adenrele Ojo, who moves effortlessly among decades, voicing teenagers and elderly women with ease. Ojo soothes with a deep richness, until she sharply demands attention with the slightest adjustment in pitch and tone. VERDICT A resonating performance that will enhance any literary fiction collection; especially recommended for fans of Yaa Gyasi, Heidi Durrow, and -Tayari Jones. ["With its sophisticated, nuanced tone, it's a poignant tale of the hard decisions twentysomethings may face": LJ 9/1/16 starred review of the Riverhead hc.]-Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

The tangled destinies of three kids growing up in a tightknit African-American community in Southern California. "She was seventeen then. She lived with her father, a Marine, and without her mother, who had killed herself six months earlier. Since then the girl had earned a wild reputationshe was young and scared and trying to hide her scared in her prettiness." Bennett's debut novel tells the story of this grieving 17-year-old girl, Nadia, her best friend, Aubrey, and her boyfriend, Luke, told partly by Nadia and partly by a chorus of eponymous "Mothers," the church ladies of Upper Room Chapel, where Luke's father is the pastor. The three teenagers are drawn together by the damage they have already suffered: Luke's promising football career was ended by a terrible injury; Aubrey has moved away from home to escape abuse by her stepfather. More trouble awaits when Nadia discovers she's carrying Luke's baby and decides not to keep it. This decision creates a web of secrets that endures for decadesthough the ever watchful, ever gossiping Mothers never stop sniffing around and suspecting. Nadia tries to escape the clutches of small-town drama by attending college and law school across the country, but when she returns home to care for her ailing father, she finds herself enmeshed in unfinished business. "All good secrets have a taste before you tell them, and if we'd taken a moment to swish this one around our mouths, we might have noticed the sourness of an unripe secret, plucked too soon, stolen and passed around before its season." Far from reliably offering love, protection, and care, in this book, the mothers cause all the trouble. A wise and sad coming-of-age story showing how people are shaped by their losses. Recommended for both adult and teenage readers. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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In the darkness of the club, you could be alone with your grief. Her father had flung himself into Upper Room. He went to both services on Sunday mornings, to Wednesday night Bible study, to Thursday night choir practice although he did not sing, although practices were closed but nobody had the heart to turn him away. Her father propped his sadness on a pew, but she put her sad in places no one could see. The bartender shrugged at her fake ID and mixed her a drink and she sat in dark corners, sipping rum-and-Cokes and watching women with beat bodies spin on stage. Never the skinny, young girls--the club saved them for weekends or nights--just older women thinking about grocery lists and child care, their bodies stretched and pitted from age. Her mother would've been horrified at the thought--her in a strip club, in the light of day--but Nadia stayed, sipping the watery drinks slowly. Her third time in the club, an old black man pulled up a chair beside her. He wore a red plaid shirt under suspenders, gray tufts peeking out from under his Pacific Coast Bait & Tackle cap. "What you drinkin'?" he asked. "What're you drinking?" she said. He laughed. "Naw. This a grown man drink. Not for a little thing like you. I'll get you somethin' sweet. You like that, honey? You look like you got a sweet tooth." He smiled and slid a hand onto her thigh. His fingernails curled dark and long against her jeans. Before she could move, a black woman in her forties wearing a glittery magenta bra and thong appeared at the table. Light brown streaked across her stomach like tiger stripes. "You leave her be, Lester," the woman said. Then to Nadia. "Come on, I'll freshen you up." "Aw, Cici, I was just talkin' to her," the old man said. "Please," Cici said. "That child ain't even as old as your watch." She led Nadia back to the bar and tossed what was left of her drink down the drain. Then she slipped into a white coat and beckoned for Nadia to follow her outside. Against the slate gray sky, the flat outline of the Hanky Panky seemed even more depressing. Further along the building, two white girls were smoking and they each threw up a hand when Cici and Nadia stepped outside. Cici returned the lazy greeting and lit a cigarette. "You got a nice face," Cici said. "Those your real eyes? You mixed?" "No," she said. "I mean, they're my eyes but I'm not mixed." "Look mixed to me." Cici blew a sideways stream of smoke. "You a runaway? Oh, don't look at me like that. I won't report you. I see you girls come through here all the time, looking to make a little money. Ain't legal but Bernie don't mind. Bernie'll give you a little stage time, see what you can do. Don't expect no warm welcome though. Hard enough fighting those blonde bitches for tips--wait till the girls see your light-bright ass." "I don't want to dance," Nadia said. "Well, I don't know what you're looking for but you ain't gonna find it here." Cici leaned in closer. "You know you got see-through eyes? Feels like I can see right through them. Nothin' but sad on the other side." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled ones. "This ain't no place for you. Go on down to Fat Charlie's and get you something to eat. Go on." Nadia hesitated, but Cici dropped the bills into Nadia's palm and curled her fingers into a fist. Maybe she could do this, pretend she was a runaway, or maybe in a way, she was. Her father never asked where she'd been. She returned home at night and found him in his recliner, watching television in a darkened living room. He always looked surprised when she unlocked the front door, like he hadn't even noticed that she'd been gone. Excerpted from The Mothers by Brit Bennett All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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