Marcia Preston is excellent at some things. She writes a compelling, insightful and suspenseful story. I was hooked by her vivid descriptions, characterization, use of foreshadowing, and symbolism.
This is a story that parallels how childhood can mangle a personality as much as the butterfly's emergence from the cocoon can damage and warp the creature for good.
We have two actual children growing up in this story, but there are also hints of the adults around them being permanently harmed by their circumstances while growing up.
Roberta, or Bobbie, is an only child, living with her single, alcoholic, close minded mother. Exhausted from her work cleaning hotel rooms, she collapses on the couch and drinks until she passes out. Bobbie is the adult in that run down home.
Cynthia, or Cincy, is also an only child, also growing up in poverty, but she has a loving and educated mother with a fascinating job, but little income. Lenora is a butterfly researcher, living in a magical house perched on a mountain side that overlooks the Columbia River Valley. The front part of the house is glassed in, where the exotic butterflies flit past, resting on the thick foliage also being raised within the conservatory. It's a spectacular site.
But while Bobbie is fascinated by Lenora, and grateful for the comfort she receives in that amazing home, Cincy resents her mother's pre-occupation with "bugs". She grows into a surly teenager, jealous of her mother's seeming preference for Bobbie, who is doing high-school credits in biology class by working with Lenora's butterflies.
All of this should have rewarded this novel with at least four stars, but I couldn't go that far. There are so many strange words, phrases, clumsy sentence structures that I thought the author might have recently learned English as a second language. But no, she was born and raised in Oklahoma. Then I googled the unknown words and phrases, hoping they were colloquialisms common to that part of North America. Nope.
I suspect the editor was either missing in action, or was mad at the author. There were too many awkward passages that could easily have been fixed. At the beginning of the novel I was immediately annoyed by two seven-year-olds behaving as precociously as fourteen-year-olds. Their ability to flirt with, charm and manipulate bullies into doing their chores was unbelievable.
One Christmas Robbie receives a "box of clothes" among a few other things, from her impoverished mother. By this time she is no longer a little girl, instead she's at the stage where clothes matter. Yet there's no description of those clothes.
As this novel flashes forwarded and backward in time, we find Bobbie living somewhere in Alberta, Canada. Oddly, we don't know where. She is apparently 45 minutes from Calgary, yet has to go through a mountain pass to get here. Being from Calgary, that jarred me. We learn that her American husband is employed at the Glenbow Museum, and I'm wondering what kind of visa he got to do that work. Then he stays at a "nearby" motor inn. Trust me, there are no motels within downtown Calgary. The Glenbow Museum is surrounded by glitzy skyscrapers, many of them luxurious hotels. You'd no more find a motel in downtown Calgary than you would in Manhattan.
At one point Bobbie puts on her snowshoes to follow her husband out the back door of their acreage home, also on a mountain side, in a snowstorm. She is behind him by a few minutes. Yet she can't figure out which way he has gone. Apparently his snow shoes left no tracks? If it's a bad storm, some snow could fill up the tracks within a few minutes, but by no means would his tracks be obliterated.
The husband has served her bagels with "creamed" cheese a little earlier. We later see him running around their home in "over-run house shoes."
At one point she is deeply shocked, to the extent she cannot speak, which Preston describes as being caught in a "backwash". She isn't sharing a drink with someone who's let their saliva flow into the beverage. At another point she is "taking a cold". Not a shower, just in the early stages of a cold. And don't talk to me about those "horny" caterpillars.
The error that jumped out at me and sent me reeling is after Bobbie confronts her mother on the family secrets she has kept from her daughter. We learn they are dark and terrible. Then the mom says "Your father, my brother..." I was horrified to learn that poor Robbie was the outcome of brother/sister incest, especially as it's often not consensual. No wonder there was so much talk about the bad genes in the family. Once my head cleared I continued to read. The mom was griping about Bobbie's father, and her own brother and her sister, all who didn't stick around.
Oh.
People moving on with their lives and not catering to a selfish, dysfunctional alcoholic doesn't strike me as that dark and terrible. Preston's sentence structure was certainly dark and terrible, though.
Yes, I am nit-picking, but why wasn't there an editor to clean up these little messes in such an otherwise beautifully written story? Being a gardener, I cried when I learned a buddleia was growing in the area that had once been the butterfly room of Lenora's beautiful home.
When I first started reading this, too many times, I was on the verge of quitting. This author had been a high-school English teacher, but anyone can make these kinds of mistakes if they're in a hurry. Mistakes happens, but not fixing them gives me "backwash".
Regardless, I'm glad I stayed with this story, because it is so vivid, insightful, and fascinating! I hope she's since found another editor.