I like Maeve Binchy's books. I like her writing. I like the way she develops characters and brings them together. I generally like her stories.
And I liked this one. Well, kind of. I think I'd like it more if it wasn't so ... so ... so upbeat.
Now, before you reject me as a cranky old man -- OK, I am a cranky old man -- hear me out. This book is too good in the sense that nothing bad really happens. Even the bad things are so obviously meant to challenge the people to be ever better.
Emily Lynch is an American of Irish descent who arrives in Dublin to visit her family and find her roots. She quickly becomes the star of the neighborhood -- helping her cousin Noel with his drinking problem, finding a way to raise money for her aunt and uncle's bizarre plan to fund a statue to an obscure saint, and otherwise to do good for everyone she meets. When Noel discovers he is the father to a dying woman's child -- a one-night stand he had forgotten about, natch -- Emily puts together a plan to have the entire community come together to help out.
Only one person wants to spoil the plan: A social worker who doesn't think Noel is the proper parent for the child, and worries she will get into trouble when the family inevitably falls apart. (This seems to be a trope of Irish fiction -- women who worry what others think of them.)
But don't worry -- spoiler alert here -- everything comes together in the end. The characters find acceptance, love, and live happily ever after.
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