Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
“The rebels are firing all around us, yet for a moment it's so quiet you can hear your own breathing." Not a person but me in the world could deconstruct that sentence. If Meghan could hear her own breathing, it meant she was breathing fast. And since Meghan had a resting heart rate somewhere between coma and sleep because of all that swimming, if she was breathing fast, it meant she was afraid, which meant there was truly something to fear.
This is one of those books that has an overwhelming number of mixed reviews on GoodReads. A fair number of the reviews focus on comparing Rise and Shine to some of Quindlen’s other books. While I would love to comment on that, this is my first Quidlen book, so instead I’m going to focus on what I loved about this book. A lot of people cite characterization as their main complaint, and I can understand that. The characters are flawed, even stubbornly so, and they’re not always likeable or agreeable, but that’s part of the reason I loved them so much. I don’t want to read stories about flawless characters nor do I want to read stories about hopeless undriven characters. This book strikes the perfect balance between the two. Meghan’s marriage falls apart, her career, this illusion she’s built around herself crumples. We watch her struggle with this through Bridget’s eyes. We watch the ripples this creates and we watch Bridget grow into the space this leaves behind until ultimately we watch her break free of the constraints she’s placed on herself, much in the same way we’ve watched Meghan, but to very different results.
Yes, there is an air of privilege, a lack of gratitude and acknowledgement within the book, but there’s also an air of cynicism and disdain for the wealth and perfection that both sister’s lives, particularly Meghan’s, commands. What could have been a story of wealth and celebrity akin to reality tv, turns instead to focus on the people: the unintentioned sacrafices, the marriges between strangers, the alienation of, and by, society. Bridget’s work with the poor shows us a world of little hope and less choice. Predicated on half truths, Meghan’s world is no more bright, even with the hope founded in the presence of choice. The societal constriction of Meghan’s life is one of perception, a personal unwillingness to change, while the lives of the women Bridget works with are constrained by society and forces outside their control.
This comparison was part of what kept me reading, but what drew me to the book in the first place was Quidlen’s writing. I love the warmth in Bridget’s narration, the careful discription of Meghan’s relationship with Evan and her own relationship with them both, the subtle current of strain that appears as the story begins to unfold, and her slightly flipant discription of the city she loves. While the narration grew a bit tedious toward the end with it’s repeated references to the Four Seasons, Rise and Shine is a book I would wholeheartedly recommend, particularly to anyone who loves stories about New York or siblings or to anyone who’s a fan of The Newroom since there are some unexpected elements of similarity between the two.
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