5 out of 5

I’ll go ahead and nominate myself for sexist of the year by saying that it’s rare that female authors get a male point of view correct, and I’d say it’s even trickier when that point of view is a young one – such as the narrator for ‘Dordogne.’  Now first off, I’d offer the parallel that I don’t think most male authors get a female perspective right either, but I’m not a card-carrying female who can support that beyond guesswork, so there ya go.  And secondly, of course some authors (excuse me – authorettes) do get it right, although when I glance at my shelf, I realize I’m pretty selective with that version of “right”: For example, Iris Murdoch knocks it out of the park, but she writes obsessive bastards like m’self, and maybe other dudes wouldn’t see that as the norm.

So I was surprised, page to page, how well Lily King wrote her little tale of a good, parentless Summer with two college-age babysitters, Ed and Grant.  Dordogne is really just a slice of life story, and I kept expecting that turn – something something abuse, or the lead would be gay, something that would make my vagina-sense twinge and a smirk appear and I’d get to judge another female author.  When a relationship angle peeks around the corner, I thought I’d found it, but effing King surprised me again by sticking to her guns, to her slice-of-life, and finishing out the Summer.  Dordogne was incredibly satisfying, which is all sorts of strange because I just don’t go in for these types of tales.  The character revelations are handled so perfectly, and the characters are so human, you feel yourself swept up in it, wanting to be part of this goddamned Summer.  And yet, it’s not just a sappy feel-good – there’s no clear burden overcome, or celebration of family.  It has a tinge of sadness of Life moving on, but also that pride we get when we can see our children (?) or our friends growing up.  The characters in Dordogne became my friends in a few short pages.  I hope to add Lily King to my bookshelf soon.