In this delightful romp through the daily life of a small-town
Southern woman, Margaret A. Graham gets a chance to have some fun
with her characters while poking a bit of fun at the church ---
something I happen to adore. Esmeralda is an immediately likable
character, an older woman who does not abide nonsense and takes
utter pleasure in dispensing her always practical advice to others,
even those "others" she knows will never heed her counsel. Mainly,
of course, church folk.
But, as Graham wisely knows, it's those very same church folk who
will be the ones to rally to support people in need and distress, as
the church's Willing Workers do throughout --- helping those who
grieve, those who are saddled with overwhelming responsibilities,
those who need a warm casserole as much as a warm hug. Esmeralda
finds herself on the receiving end of their generous gifts of time
and food when she assumes responsibility for a woman dying of AIDS.
Throughout the book, Esmeralda writes letters to her lifelong friend
Beatrice, a literary device Graham uses skillfully. Through the
letters back and forth, we gain greater insight into what makes
Esmeralda tick, and through her friend we eventually see a flawed
aspect of her nature.
Anyone who has lived in the South, the real South, is bound to be
amused by Graham's ear for the "language" --- the way real
Southerners express their thoughts, their choice of words, and their
charming way of simply making up words. Thus Esmeralda advises
Beatrice that the "lonliest doctor" she needs is Dr. Scholl, seeks
out a "notary republic", and quotes Charles "Splurgeon" throughout.
The book also has some hilarious moments, as when Esmeralda must
make up a name for the dying Hispanic woman and can only think of
"Carmen Miranda" (which admittedly may not be funny to those too
young to remember her), or when she tries to resolve an immigration
problem, gets shuffled from one office to another in the courthouse,
and finally takes it upon herself to enter a door marked Problem
Resolution Office, only to discover 45 minutes later that it's an
IRS office.
And Graham's use of imagery shines throughout the book: "Her pauses
are like when the washing machine stops then starts up again,"
Esmeralda says about Beatrice. Graham has most assuredly done her
share of laundry, because only someone who has listened out for the
end of the cycle countless times can relate to the way those pauses
sound like a person holding her breath. "If Clara can't climb down
your family tree to the bare roots, you don't get no clean bill of
health," she says of another church member.
But there are some missteps. Esmeralda uncharacteristically comments
on the number of Christians killed and tortured around the world,
something that doesn't sound like her but instead sounds like the
author trying to educate her audience. Then there's the mandatory
salvation scene, in which one character practically grills another
to find out if she led a woman to the Lord in precisely the "right"
way. That one really grated on me.
Finally, toward the end of the book, Esmeralda convinces a godly man
named Carl that he should cut what she calls his "pigtail" (a
ponytail, maybe?) because no woman would want a man with hair like
that, and, as she tells him, "it don't look right for a Christian
man to go around looking like a leftover hippie." Here's a kind,
godly man, but he isn't quite up to snuff as a Christian example
because he wears his hair wrong? I hope not. And I suspect there are
plenty of women out there, even Esmeralda's age, who would gladly
accept a ponytail on a thoughtful, caring man.
Despite those and other minor flaws, what it all comes down to is
this: Mercy Me is an enchanting, fun read, and Graham is an author
to watch. Let's hope she has more in mind for Esmeralda.
Review written by The Faithful Reader
--------------
Be sure to subscribe to our
newsletter for the latest news and reviews!
