An atmospheric and eagerly-awaited debut novel from acclaimed crime writer Patricia Abbott, set in Philadelphia in the 1970's about a family torn apart by a mother straight out of "Mommy Dearest", and her children who are at first victims but soon learn they must fight back to survive.Eve Moran has always wanted “things” and has proven both inventive and tenacious in getting and keeping them. Eve lies, steals, cheats, swindles, and finally commits murder, paying little heed to the cost of her actions on those who love her. Her daughter, Christine, compelled by love, dependency, and circumstance, is caught up in her mother’s deceptions, unwilling to accept the viciousness that runs in her mother's blood. Eve’s powers of seduction are hard to resist for those who come in contact with her toxic allure. It’s only when Christine’s three-year old brother, Ryan begins to prove useful to her mother, and she sees a pattern repeating itself, that Christine finds the courage and means to bring an end to Eve’s tyranny.An unflinching novel about love, lust and greed that runs deep within our bones, Patricia Abbott cements herself as one of our very best writers of domestic suspense.
Patricia Abbott is the Deringer-winning author of more than sixty-five stories in print and online publications. She has forthcoming stories in the anthologies: Damn Near Dead II, Bats in the Belfry and Beat to a Pulp, The First Round. Her latest novel Shot in Detroit has been nominated for an Edgar Award. She lives and works in Detroit.
I discovered Patricia Abbott on Shotgun Honey, which unfortunately was only last year. Where has this amazing crime fiction been all my life? Her flash fiction is bold, raw, and powerful. She isn’t afraid to experiment with mash-up genres either. Then I read her short story in BETTY FEDORA, VOL. 1, “Ten Things I Hate About My Wife” and laughed my ass off. Her stories all have dark undercurrents running through it, yet her voice is so compelling and lyrical, I don’t feel weighted down after I’m done reading. When I heard Polis Books was coming out with her debut novel, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it.
Of course, I had to wait, but man, was it worth it. CONCRETE ANGEL is reminiscent of MOMMIE DEAREST and MILDRED PIERCE but in a style that’s all Patti Abbott. This 1970s Philadelphia coming-of-age tale centers on Eve Moran, a master manipulator who both charms and horrifies you with her nasty habits of stealing, lying, and yes, killing. We learn about Eve through the eyes of her daughter, Christine, who is her patsy, her champion, and eventually, her judge and jury. The voice is haunting, calculated, and detached. The prose is exquisite and sharp.
If you’re expecting a bang-up rollercoaster ride that you can breeze through in one hour, then you’ll probably be disappointed. This is a book to be savored. Expect an intense burn that will get its claws into you and not let go until you reach the very end. That to me is the definition of true crime fiction noir. I can only hope she doesn’t wait as long to release her second novel.
This feels like a memoir that in the last few chapters tries to escape into becoming a novel. It has the virtues of memoir--as a detailed, up-close look at the emotional experience of being raised by a narcissistic mother, a passively enabling father, and grandparents prone to judging while facilitating cover-ups, it's very good. The family feels real, and so do all the narrator's emotions about it. It's just that those feelings never entirely translate convincingly into action, leaving you with a book that is believable in terms of enduring your childhood but not believable in terms of defeating your childhood.
Narrator Christine is the daughter of Eve Moran, who has, probably, bipolar disorder, kleptomania, and pathological narcissism, and who hoards what she refers to as "her junk," though part of the problem is that Eve's junk often isn't--she has a taste for high-class items and enjoys the thrill of picking out oddities from luxury department stores. Most of the time, she doesn't even use it, she just stores it in a variety of storage facilities or in the basement of her parents' house. When she's really desperate to free up some space, she holds endless garage sales. She runs out of space pretty often, which isn't surprising when you consider her sometimes-strategy of writing letters of complaint to manufacturers so she'll receive a year's supply of toothpaste or a dozen bottles of Windex. She just delights in accumulating things and is willing to give up just about anything to do it. She certainly doesn't balk at giving up her family's respect.
Christine gets used as an increasingly unwilling prop and pawn in Eve's various schemes over the years--she's once memorably used to cover up an impulsive murder, a misleadingly bloody start to this mostly small-scale novel--but her escape from Eve isn't complete until she can get her little brother Ryan out too.
But there are a few problems with this, the first one being that you could probably talk about this book in some detail and forget that Ryan exists: he's a plot token made to pass from Eve to Christine, a cute little boy who barely speaks and who is just a designated motivation for Christine to finally do something. It's hard to care about his emotional well-being in anything other than the abstract. Secondly, while Christine is a good and careful narrator, she's not an especially interesting person in her own right, so shifting her from observer to actor hurts the novel a little. Thirdly, the novel's attempt to raise its stakes is a little clumsy. Murder is implausibly flirted with, when other options would seem much easier.
Nevertheless, there's a hypnotic pull to the domestic awfulness of the book's long middle section, if you like that kind of thing; Abbott takes material that is often treated as inherently trashy or exploitative and deals with it seriously and in a nuanced way. Her characterization of Eve--appealing in her ingenuity despite it all--is great. Even though this book stumbled for me, I'm looking forward to reading more Patricia Abbott, and I think this would make a cool paired-read with Mildred Pierce, that famous other mother-daughter noir.
Finished is a relative term for this book...I'm about 50% done with the book, but 100% finished. I wish I hadn't stayed with it this long. There is only so much an author can say about hoarding, shoplifting, strange family relationships before I throw my hands up. I still haven't read a single sentence about the 3 yr old brother/son alluded to on the back cover. If you like books I read...skip this one!
While there are plenty of crimes, both major and minor, in this debut novel the main focus is a rather dysfunctional relationship between a mother and daughter. Set mainly in the seventies, in and around the Philadelphia area, this was a good though dark read.
Concrete Angel is a thoughtful, complex and exquisitely written novel that defies simple classification. There are elements of crime, memoir, coming of age and psychoanalysis all chugging along side by side.
The story revolves around a woman named Eve, a moral sociopath who turns everyone she meets into an enabler. Dancing like marionettes, they enable her to do whatever she wants without facing the consequences. What she wants is to acquire more and more stuff, not because she needs it, but for the simple joy of possession. Trouble is, Eve’s means are limited, so she just takes what she wants, running the gamut of criminal behavior from shoplifting to fraud and dabbling with everything in between. And because she knows herself and doesn’t give a damn, she never has to deal with remorse.
Our storyteller here is Eve’s daughter Christine, a young woman in search of an identity. She’s been so deep under her mother’s spell that she doesn’t even think of herself as a real person, and is surprised when anyone acknowledges her existence. Christine takes us on a tour of her mother’s life, from Eve’s troubled childhood into her troubled marriage and the troubled relationships beyond. Eve sees Christine as merely another tool—she even uses her to get away with murder.
Along the way, we meet a host of richly drawn characters, and we’re treated to a cultural history lesson. Eve’s world, from the fifties to the present, is peppered with references to books, TV shows, popular products and ideas of the times. And it all rings true. I know because I lived it too.
Ultimately, Concrete Angel is the story of Christine’s struggle to rise from the depths and emerge as her own person, a person who—despite Eve’s best efforts—turns out to be an honest, intelligent and morally upright human being.
This is a tightly focused, intentionally claustrophobic psychological portrait of a mother-daughter relationship. The plot develops out of the mother's propensity to commit petty crimes, and the daughter's growing awareness of the ways in which those crimes have warped and limited her childhood.
The book begins with a terrible act of violence, and then moves back in time to look at the history leading up to it. Once we reach this starting point again, the book proceeds forward. It's a very smart structure, pulling the reader in with a tantalizing scene, filling in the background, and then building tension as we wonder what new and horrific acts the mother will commit.
Although the mother is portrayed more completely, we get a very good sense of the daughter. She is always there, on the sidelines watching in disbelief or concern, or being used by her mother as a half-willing patsy, or later struggling to make sense of her life. We get detailed descriptions of the mother's actions and extensive dialogue in scenes which were not seen but were later imagined by the daughter. And we get the daughter's feelings and opinions in her own POV scenes. Much of what we come to understand about the daughter is constructed in the reader's mind while the mother's schemes are played out. And I appreciate the slight distance afforded by the author's choice. There are no melodramatic moments, no histrionics. All of the characters are grounded and their actions are plausible--making them all the more disturbing.
Altogether an engrossing and interesting first novel. I plan to read the author's short story collections as well.
Patti Abbott has given us a wonderfully written novel of a mother and daughter relationship not exactly normal. She knows how to develop her characters, over one hundred short stories, a number award winners, that are just a hair off, but seem almost normal.
Eve Moran is a charming woman, has been since she was young, but what she is is a thief. Nothing expensive, mostly junk, but she hoards it all like some glorious treasure.
Christine grows up abetting mom in her endeavors until that moment at twelve when Eve murders a man that catches her rifling his wallet. No spoiler, it happens on page one of our story.
The men, the swag, Christine finally rebels when her little brother is born and as he grows she realizes mom is beginning to use him as well. She can't let that happen.
I trusted Patti Abbott would deliver an excellent novel, and she did. The strength here is in the characters. I also love unreliable narrators, and the one we have here, though we should be pulling for her, isn't entirely on the up-and-up herself. I love that. I loved all the interactions, I loved the various family members and how they played off one another, and I loved the wacky, dangerous, manipulative mother. Just a stellar outing, all the way though.
This was a very slow-building story of a very ill mother with the propensity to "collect" things, and those in her life who try to manage her habit. From her parents, to her husband, her daughter Christine who cannot escape the madness, and subsequent boyfriends, she never seems to learn her lesson. Eve knows no boundaries or limitations. She can be ruthless and uncaring, and always the victim.
As everyone enables her and never truly allows her to pay for her actions, her daughter is caught in a complex web of lies, cover ups, and endless disappointment. Her childhood is quickly lost as she is so entwined with her need for approval and acceptance from her mother, and her ability to help her mother escape real trouble. It seems that as Christine grows older, she starts to realize all that she has missed out on and despite her mother's best efforts, she goes to college to try and make life for herself. As she really understands the depths of what Eve has been up to, and the increasing trouble ahead for her small family, she makes a decision to finally break her mother's grip but it won't be easy.
I feel like this story took a lot of time to develop the characters and the emotions surrounding Eve and Christine, but it ended so abruptly. I felt like I must have missed a few pages and it left me wanting more. It's hard to dislike a book due to "hating" a character, isn't that what a good story is about? Passion regarding a character, good or bad means the author did their job. Eve is definitely a character to hate, and at some point you want Christine to wake up already and move on with her life. I could have given this more stars, if it weren't for the ending.
Perverse, it would seem, to publish this review of Concrete Angel, about a monster mother, so near the Sunday devoted annually to honor mothers everywhere flowers and greeting cards are sold or received. The timing was not on purpose. My mother died some years back, taking with her the incentive to remember such calendar events. Nor was Mother's Day likely on Patricia Abbott's mind when she decided to dedicate to debut novels this Friday's “forgotten books” feature on her widely popular blog.
What is intentional is my review of Concrete Angel for this feature. Concrete Angel happens to be Abbott's own debut novel, published nearly a year ago. I read it then, and re-read it yesterday. The first time was a jaw-dropping experience. Yesterday was the same jaw-wise, but from a different vantage. This time the characters revealed much of themselves I'd missed before, before I knew how it all would end. This time they pulled me so deep into their lives I'm afraid I might have given voice to my fears, muttered warnings, trying to get my fictional friends out of jams, to see the dangers ahead. I should probably wait another couple of years before reading it again, give my imagination a rest, or I might end up inside Concrete Angel for good with no way out.
Yet another cosmic convergence of timing brought me back to Concrete Angel to sound this unintended discord amid the harmony decreed for mama's special day. Last week I brought several of John le Carré's novels home from the library's used-book sale, and immediately read A Perfect Spy. Unbeknownst to me as I started reading, the primary supporting character was the eponymous spy's monster father.
Villainous parents, of course, have played prominent roles in our fictional dramas since the days of Sophocles, and no doubt earlier. What keener way to engage the inner adolescent in anyone than to tickle memories of that tug-of-war between love and independence that arrives inevitably with awakening from innocence? In Concrete Angel twelve-year-old Christine's travail with this filial rope enters a lethal arena when her divorced mother shoots a man to death in their apartment while her daughter's asleep in the next room. Mother persuades daughter to take the rap, claiming daughter, awakened by noise, mistakenly thought the man mother had invited to the apartment only hours earlier, had entertained and then taken to bed, was attacking her.
The ruse works. The authorities buy it, and the only legal consequence is court-ordered counseling for the girl. Even Christine, bewitched by her mother's powerful, manipulative personality, almost comes to believe the imaginary version of what happened. In fact, Christine's mother had emptied her revolver into the man as he tried to call the police after catching her going through his wallet.
Occurring only weeks after Christine's parents' divorce, the murder caps what up to then had been an abnormally tight relationship between mother and daughter. Christine, from her earliest memories, had assumed the role of confidante, passive accomplice, and protector to an obsessive/compulsive, thieving con-artist mother. The shooting punctures Christine's albeit uneasy comfort zone in this bond. It arouses her survival instincts, allowing her to see her life more objectively and to recognize, by increments, the intimate toxicity of her mother's presence.
Christine bides her time. She's inherited, if not the pathology, her mother's toughness and cunning, traits similar to those of le Carré's spies. And Christine does become a spy, but her only target is her mother. It takes six more years before the girl, now eighteen, knows it's time to make the break. Her incentive is to save her younger step-brother from succeeding her as their mother's unwitting partner in crime. She sees it already happening, their mother taking the cutely dressed boy with her as a diversion while she shoplifts and buys merchandise with fake identification and bad checks. It comes to a head when the gun is turned on Christine after she confronts her mother with documentary evidence of her lifelong crimes.
Obviously Christine survives, at least long enough to narrate much of Concrete Angel. And hers is a surprisingly upbeat, wryly amused voice. Her mother amazes her in retrospect, the daughter admiring in a detached way the beauty and charm of this agile, quick-witted, thoroughly self-absorbed woman. It's as if she's describing some wild jungle cat, some force of nature, the way her mother sees herself.
“No one can cure me because there’s nothing to cure. I just like my junk,” she says when confronted with her obsessive need for things. On another occasion, when her husband suggests another in a succession of professional treatments, she offers this snarky observation: “Acquisitive women must rank at the top of the list of faddish psychiatric disorders.” She blinked her eyes twice. “You only have to think of how many synonyms there are for greedy to get the gist.”
Despite Christine's general tone of savvy insouciance, her loneliness and mounting despair appear with sharp poignancy in this reflection as she struggles internally with the separation she's coming to accept as inevitable: Whole sections of my life— our lives— were forbidden topics. No, more than forbidden. They’d virtually disappeared... There was no one in my current life who wanted to hear about my past. There was no past; we lived in the moment. Mother had reinvented us time and again. And would forever, I feared.
Patricia Abbott's next novel, Shot in Detroit, is due out in June. It should come as no surprise I've pre-ordered it for my Kindle.
Her short story collection (I Bring Sorrow) is AMAZING and I highly recommend it. I have tried to read this novel twice and it just doesn't capture me. I'm not too interested in the deranged mother nor in her much maligned daughter. The writing style is awkward and I have officially given up.
I really wanted to finish this book. I never felt connected to any of the characters in the story. The plot never moved. I couldn’t even finish the book. I made it 50% through.
This book begins with a bang, literally as Eve Moran unloads her gun into a man whose name is either Joey or Jimmy or Jerry--she can't quite remember. And if she did remember, she wouldn't care. Because Eve only cares about herself. If you know Patricia Abbott’s short stories, you’ve been waiting a long time for her debut as a novelist. If you’re new to her work, you’re in for a treat. This mother/daughter tale is filled with sharp observation and lethal detail that underlines the family dysfunction (with a capital D) with economy and grace. One paragraph, early on, tells us everything we need to know about narcissistic Eve Moran and how little she cares for anyone else in her life, including her daughter: She invited him up to her apartment where she served him stuffed figs, cocktail nuts, dates, and several dry martinis before taking him to bed. She’d given up cooking for men after a nasty episode a few years earlier, but kept prepared foods such as these on hand for potential guests— items looking attractive in a cut-glass bowl. We often made a Sunday dinner of the leftovers if they didn’t disappear on Saturday night. We see all too clearly the damage Mona is wreaking in her daughter’s life, even though Christine is too young to understand just how masterfully and completely she is being manipulated. But even though she’s blind to how her mother operates, Christine sees how the world works, and her point of view is clear-eyed and unsentimental, rather like Mattie Ross in Charles Portis’ novel TRUE GRIT (or Addie Pray in David Brown’s ADDIE PRAY, aka PAPER MOON). And though there’s something her father said to her mother in the heat of the divorce proceedings, something Christine can’t quite wrap her head around, the meaning is clear to us and explains so so much about Eve and why her 12-year-old daughter believes that “Saving Mother” is her special skill-set. This is a story about lies and deceptions and what happens when all those lies come home to roost. Eve is a fantastic character, a moral chameleon whose capacity for self-delusion is even bigger than her thirst for instant gratification. CONCRETE ANGEL is a hard-boiled delight for people who like character-driven stories.
Christine was twelve years old when her mom, Eve Moran, shot her current boyfriend, Jerry Santini, dead in their apartment. It wasn’t long afterwards before Christine once again took care of her mom by claiming to have killed Jerry Santini. After all, cleaning up after her mom was a job Christine had really gotten really good at by then thanks to the fact she had lots of practice over the years.
Told in flashbacks of various lengths through the book, Concrete Angel by Patti Abbott details eighteen years of Christine’s life. From 1964 to approximately1982 in various locations in the Philadelphia area Christine dealt with a life of quiet family chaos. While the book opens with the shooting that in some ways did change things in other ways it was a minor blip on a long and wide ranging continuum of the family dysfunction.
Such issues are frequent topics of the author’s shorter fiction. While multiple crimes are present in the book, the psychological relationships are the heart of Concrete Angel. Hence the labeling of the book as “domestic suspense” in this age of making everything fit a nice neat designation. Makes sense if you also believe that Faulkner is domestic suspense as there is definitely a tone of Faulkner throughout the read. Granted the book is set in the Northeast but the characters could have easily come out of the Deep South. Right down to the neat freak bigoted Grandmother who is all about appearances over everything and anyone else.
The relationship between Christine and her mother takes precedence for a variety of reasons, but there are other familial relationships at work here that don’t always have Christine’s best interests at heart. The aforementioned Grandmother an obvious case in point, but there are others just as guilty. This is not one of those families you wish to be born into if your goal is a safe and nurturing environment. A mighty good book that defies easy labeling, Concrete Angel is a complex read that pulls you in deep and will haunt you long after the read is finished.
Concrete Angel is marketed as ‘domestic suspense’ and that seems an apt label. The story follows the life of Eve Moran, a compulsive petty thief and hoarder, from her adolescence in the 1950s to middle age, and her various trials and tribulations in and around Philadelphia. In particular, it focuses on her strained relationship with her family, her husband and various lovers, and her daughter, Christine. The latter slowly transforms from willing pawn and accomplice to resentful teenager, the change starting after she takes the rap for a murder her mother committed. When Eve starts to use her young son in her crimes, Christine decides it’s time to try and end her mother’s behaviour. The novel then is a relatively unusual for a crime novel given its extended timeline and its detailed character study. Over the course of the story one really gets to know Eve and her family and their unfolding relationships. The tale has plenty of drama, with an endless stream of crimes and scams, from shoplifting to murder. Abbott, however, rather centring the plot on them, makes these a part of the everyday theatre of Eve and Christine’s lives. The only bit that didn’t ring quite true to me was the ending, which felt a little underplayed. Overall, an interesting tale told in an engaging voice.
Meticulous in its description of a personality disordered mother and her relationship to the things and people in her life, Concrete Angel delivers powerful images and strongly relatable characters. Even the "weak" characters have strong and sharply drawn personalities, their own roles and decisions key to the way the story progresses.
One of Concrete Angel's best attributes is its subtle feminist message, demonstrating that social ideas about women -- much more than medical theories of the day -- affected families' treatment seeking for them, doctors' treatment of them, and the questionable outcomes for them. But Patti Abbott's writing is never preachy, and the result is a fulfilling story.
This book has caught some flack from trade publications, but I thought it was a quite enjoyable read overall. A lot of the criticism aimed at it was dismissive of what that novel really is: an impressionistic psychological drama with crime elements. I thought the deconstructing of motherhood from a daughter's point of view by Patti Abbott was poignant and pertinent. She gives a cold, critical look at the culture of self-congratulatory motherhood.
I thought the boyfriend pattern Eve entertains became repetitive at times, but the strong first person narration by Christine kept me glued to the page and reading at an unhealthy pace. Patti Abbott technical mastery of her craft kept me reading whenever the narrative lost me and that is I believe how every book should be.
This book is nominated for the Anthony and Macavity Awards for best first novel. Yes, this is in the mystery or crime fiction category. I say that because this reads more like a character study than a mystery. What I would call General Fiction. There really is no puzzle to solve. There is crime going on, but we know who is doing it and what her motivations are. It is a good book, and reads a bit closer to non-fiction than fiction. It is a compelling story of a young girl raised by a mother who is a hoarder and a thief. A clever one at that. I think if this would not have been sold to me as crime fiction or mystery, I might have approached it differently and liked it a lot more. Abbott is a skilled writer and great at characterization.
Psychology Today would say that Eve Moran is a classic narcissist. Lying and cheating and stealing are her ways of the world. Raising her daughter Christine in 1970's is a challenge as Eve involves Christine in her hair brained schemes. Later on Eve uses Christines three year old brother Ryan to pull off her wheeling and dealing. Christine has to find the strength within herself to rise above how she was raised. Will she? You have to read the book to find out! A very exciting read I highly recommend it. This book was provided to me by the publisher for a fair and honest review.
I love it when literary meets crime fiction. Concrete Angel had been on my to-read list since I heard of its release; I've been a fan of Patricia Abbott's short fiction for years.
Concrete Angel is one of those books that get the character, plot, and tension just right. I can't wait for Patricia Abbott's next book...
This book wasn't great - but it really wasn't bad either.
If you took my mother and my husband's father and our neighbor 2 houses down and my friend from childhood - that is the antagonist in the story. I mean the story resonates with the reader on a certain level.
I felt empathy for the daughter and her plight. This is the first nov for this author and it was well done
I show this as being read before but I barely remember it. I have it 2 stars the last time.it deserved a much higher rating. The events in this story seem outrages, the but It reads like non.fiction. Very glad I gave.This another read. If u can handle books about sociapaths, I highly recommend this. It's not full of gore or violence which makes it more believable
A Dorothy Parker-like tart-tongued wit enlivens this tale, which frequently had me grinning and outright chortling. Highly enjoyable, blackly comic family drama with a memorable psycho mom whose larcenous tendencies drive the story.
I'm giving this a 1 star rating because I won a copy this past year (2015) through Goodread's Giveaways but never actually received the book and am unable to reach the person who hosted the giveaway to let them know. I apologize to the author because I really did want to read the book.
With the dark undercurrents running through the book and the easy going light hearted narration by the daughter, I don't think I'll forget this book. I would have given it a 5 star if the ending didn't feel a bit rushed.
This book was horrible. I'm regretting wasting my time on something so predictable and mundane. I should have lowered my expectations but reading this would have slithered below the lowest one.