Lynn Coady crafts compelling narratives that delve into the complexities of human relationships and moral quandaries. Her distinctive voice brings to life characters grappling with the urgent realities of contemporary existence. Coady's prose is marked by a keen insight, offering readers a potent blend of raw honesty and emotional resonance. She masterfully explores the search for meaning amidst life's inherent chaos.
Through a series of letters, the narrative delves into the complexities of identity and self-perception, revealing how external judgments can distort our understanding of ourselves. With a blend of humor and empathy, the story examines the protagonist's struggle against the conflicting impressions left by others, ultimately highlighting the intricate relationship between self and society.
Are books on the way to extinction or just adapting to our changing world?
"A true grit coming-of-age novel" (Seattle Post-Intelligencer), Saints of Big Harbour is a funny, brutal, and vivid story about small-town life and the inescapable power of gossip. Lynn Coady gives us the unforgettable Guy Boucher, a fatherless teenager and recluse, who finds himself at the center of an ugly rumor. Several versions of truth emerge and collide through Guy's eyes and the stories of those who surround him -- his overbearing uncle, a girl idealized by her town, a quietly wise young woman wrestling with demons of her own, his draft-dodger English teacher, and a pair of golden boys trapped in emotional adolescence as well as Big Harbour itself.
"After her mother's sudden death, Karen finds herself back in her childhood home in Nova Scotia for the first time in a decade, acting as full-time caregiver to Kelli, her older sister. Overwhelmed with grief and the daily needs of Kelli, who was born with a developmental disability, Karen begins to feel consumed by the isolation of her new role. On top of that, she's weighed down with guilt over her years spent keeping Kelli and their independent-to-a-fault mother, Irene, at arm's length. And so when Trevor--one of Kelli's support workers--oversteps his role and offers friendly advice and a shoulder to cry on, Karen gratefully accepts his somewhat overbearing friendship. When she discovers how close Trevor was to Irene, she comes to trust him all the more. But as Trevor slowly insinuates himself into Karen and Kelli's lives, Karen starts to grasp the true aspect of his relationship with her mother--and to experience for herself the suffocating nature of Trevor's "care.""--