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Coffee and CondolenceseARC, 268 pg. Read: July 21, 2020 |
There’s a bit from the movie Grosse Pointe Blank that has inexplicably gotten stuck in my brain, to rear its head from time to time.
Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It’s a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that’d be good. I think.
This snippet of conversation came to mind a few times while reading this book, because if there’s anyone who needs Shakabuku, it’s Miles Alexander. The only question is: where will this kick be coming from?
What’s Coffee and Condolences About?
Miles Alexander is a man on a mission. Following the death of his wife and children and a suicide attempt worthy of Lane Meyer*, his therapist points out that there are two women alive that he needs to repair his relationship with—his mother and sister. For pretty understandable reasons, Miles is willing to work on only one of those—so he flies to New York to track down his sister at NYU, where she’s working on her Master’s.
* Yeah, I did just make a second John Cusak reference, not sure where that came from.
The damage he did to their relationship was pretty bad, and Lily’s not over it. But, she loves her brother and is willing to forgive. They spend some time connecting, but they largely ignore the problem. I enjoyed and appreciated watching the two of them spar and support each other.
While waiting for Lilly, Miles stops off at a coffee shop near campus and falls in deep smit at first sight with a barista, Melody. She seems to be interested in him, too (giving him her phone number unsolicited was the first clue). She knows that Miles is working through some stuff, and gives him space to do so and tell her about it in his own time—she’s got her own particular kind of baggage, too. She’ll share that when she’s ready.
Readers will know her secret almost immediately, but that’s okay, the focus isn’t supposed to be on the mystery—it’s about Miles working through things and when he learns it, that’s the important part. As nice as the romance is, as fun (and important) as the brother/sister bond is, the book’s focus is Miles and his continuing grieving and healing. In a move reminiscent of Nick Hornby’s Rob coming clean to the reader about the horrible thing he did to his girlfriend*, Miles eventually tells his reader about the horrible thing he did shortly before his wife’s death. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you can’t help but feel for the guy—he and his wife would’ve worked through it (you sense) had they been given the opportunity. Instead, it’s something that Miles has to work through on his own, so he can move forward with his life. With Melody’s secret and the revelation Miles gives us, the important part isn’t the content—it’s how Parker delivers the revelation. And he does it exactly right.
* Not a Cusak reference, I meant the book. But it’s close.
Lilly gives the support and encouragement, Melody gives Miles the security to process what he needs to—and Dr. Felt helped equip him to do these things. Somewhere in there, Shakabuku.
Yes, eventually, their mother appears and Miles has to deal with her. Up until the end, the whole thing between his mother and Miles didn’t click with me—it’s probably a problem with me and my attention span, not with Parker’s writing. But anything that took focus away from Lilly or Melody wasn’t really that interesting to me. But once Miles got serious about mending fences and making amends with her, I finally bought into the relationship and thought Parker did a good job with the resolution there.
Now, sure, you might be thinking that a therapist by the name of Dr. Felt has all the subtlety of a brick flying through the air. And you’d be right. But, you know what? The name Felt actually works for her. She’s a cool character, and a nice tribute to the mental health professions on Parker’s part. The Miles/Dr. Felt relationship/interplay is one of my favorite parts of the book.
What can I say about the ending without any spoilers? It’s sweet and gratifying. Just what the doctor ordered.
So what did I think about Coffee and Condolences ?
It occurs to me as I write this that I’ve enjoyed a lot more of “Lad Lit” in the last year or so—mostly self/independently published. I dabbled in some of it years ago, and largely was annoyed and turned off by what I read. But since I read Matthew Hanover’s Not Famous, I’ve been exposed to some really good—and really entertaining—works in this subgenre. I need to get better at talking about them, because I feel myself floundering here—and I feel bad about that. Parker deserves a little better than what I’ve come up with.
The plot was decent, I liked the characters (not necessarily everything they did, but them) and was engaged with most of them right away, I was invested in the outcome of most of the plotlines, I thought it was a great idea to tie in the therapy Miles received to what was going on, and I enjoyed Parker’s voice and most of his choices.
Coffee and Condolences was like a medium-dark chocolate mocha. Just a hint of a bite, but a sweet treat (and I specified medium, because I wanted a little more), a very pleasant experience. I recommend it, I will be in line with cash ready for the next book Parker releases.
Disclaimer: I received this book from the author in exchange for this post and my honest opinion—I appreciate that, and apologize that it’s taken me so long to get this posted, but it had no impact on what I said or how I rated the book.
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