This book had pluses and minuses, but overall, I wasn’t a fan. Mixing compelling secondary characters with some pretty shoddy plotting and underdeveloped main characters, A Mother’s Grace had high points- but didn’t get me hooked.
Set at the turn of the century, the book follows the life of Madeleine Kettle, a woman who marries for love but ends up trapped in an abusive relationship, and her daughter Grace, who grows up in an abusive relationship and realises that she wants to be a nun. I really enjoyed Goodwin’s secondary character building- they’re given time to develop in their own right, and made me want to learn more about their lives, especially Grace’s crazy aunt Gertie. Similarly, her descriptions of life in Edwardian England were really interesting- also we get to spend a lot of time in Wales, my homeland! Goodwin has a good eye for detail, and major brownie points for that.
It was when we get to the main characters, though, that things started to fall apart. Grace was painted as saintly, a paragon of patience, goodness and virtue, which started to get irritating after she married the man she didn’t love. Her relationship with her father didn’t feel well-developed: I felt like his sudden death halfway through the novel was pretty abrupt, and left a lot of plot threads hanging. It was almost like she changed her mind halfway through writing the book and decided to focus on Grace’s married life instead.
And Grace’s married life made me want to cry. Her love interest was just as saintly as her- the pastor, no less, and the theme of forbidden love here was a tad cliché for me, and their romance felt a little underbaked. Perhaps I just like my books less angsty, but I really liked Dylan, her other love interest and the brother of Grace’s childhood friend Myfanwy. The thing that made me angry was the character development of Dylan, who goes from a sweetheart into a serial abuser. Why?! And worse, Grace puts up with it, for four years. It seems unnecessary, shoehorned into the plot to make Grace suffer for her supposed sin of having a child with a priest, but it wasn’t believable. It felt like suffering for sufferings’ sake.
So, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was easy to read, and I got through it in one sitting, like a cup of hot chocolate. But like hot chocolate, it was also a bit sickly, a bit black-and-white, for my liking. If you like chocolate box romances, then this is for you, but for me it’s not ideal.