Marian Keyes' pastel-shaded books routinely grace the Chick-Lit section. While the bright colours always draw me, I never actually buy one. Reason? The blurbs reveal too much soul-searching and catharsis for my 'books-are-about-escapism' viewpoint. This pattern had only one roadblock: 'Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married'. I loved the book, the Irish humour and Keyes' effortless writing style. But that was it.
Roadblock # 2: Under the Duvet. The prospect of having a glimpse into an author’s life (which didn’t involve untold angst, morbid hallucinations, dismembering of vital body parts in a moment of inspiration) was very tempting.
Keyes has the ability to make you snort (out loud!)...whether it's the time she sweated nervous bullets at an early book signing and there was nary-a-soul at the bookstore...or her pitiful attempts to "sparkle like a flame" at the Synergy Dance Class...or her transition from Single to Single-and-Himself(as she calls her husband)....or the thoroughly entertaining encounters with her batty and utterly endearing Irish family. She also edges in a note of seriousness as she gives an account of her battle with alcoholism and subsequent rehabilitation.
In all, a small treat for all who can associate with a lass who is dealing with the travails (and luxuries) of being Irish / above-thirty / complete with dysfunctional family / a magnet for assorted catastrophes.
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