5 out of 5

I’m positive there’s some joke here about neutrality that I’m just not intelligent enough to pull off convincingly.  The extension of the joke would be that I don’t feel neutral about the story Switzerland whatsoever.

Ann Patchett is probably a big deal.  Her bio mentions several books and awards, and while that doesn’t have to mean anything, I think in this case it does.  I tend not to read a lot of ‘big deals’.  In large part it’s because I’m a fitful prat who rankles when people approve of something without my say-so; the other part, though, is that I tend not to like the writing as much.  While the larger part might influence the other, I would like to offer that I can generally acknowledge the skill or understand the appeal, and then say (monocle a’tipped) that it’s not for me.  “But have you sampled the latest Judge Dredd volume?” I might add, sipping my bergamot tea.

I think, though, that not only do I get this big deal, but I whole-heartedly approve.  Patchett adds some sinful story elements to Switzerland – death of a child, Buddhism – which would normally guarantee my ire, but they’re so organically woven into the telling that they feel like proper story pieces, proper character dressings, and not forced heart-string manipulators or hidden advertisements for enlightenment.

Teresa, in her 70s, has finally retired, and is taking the opportunity to visit her daughter, Holly, in the titular locale.  Teresa seems on point, and isn’t beleaguered by loss or regrets as many elder novel characters tend to be; she considers everything that’s held her back from visiting Holly – and Patchett here introduces some of those previously mentioned elements , but does so in a naturalistic fashion, as one might actually review their thoughts – but again, instead of assailing us with negatives, we come out of this process seeing Teresa as sensible and strong, and Holly simply as her own person.  And as the tale goes on, following the duo around once Teresa’s arrived, more comes put about some Whys, and ponderings of What’s Nexts, all with that same masterful fluidity.

The climax, which could be read in a few ways, or simply as parent and child seeing eye-to-eye, is impactful for all of the possible interpretations, Pratchett fully grounding us emotionally so that the actuality of what may or may not be occurring can be played out how it suits our mood.  Which is ingenious.

While there is a narration switch I don’t quite understand the need for in the story, it doesn’t cause any hiccups while reading, and the flow of the story – and patient emotional buildup – is so polished it’s truly not worth a critical consideration.