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Someday Everything Will All Make Sense
Someday Everything Will All Make Sense follows Luther van der Loon, an eccentric harpsichordist and professor of early music, as he navigates the stages of grief after the untimely death of his mother. Luther obsesses over burial practices, rails against the funerary industry, and institutes a personal injury suit against the Chinese takeout whose "sloppy methods" he blames for his mother choking on a wonton. Luther detests modern music and the equal temperament, the tuning fiction upon which it is based. He believes, like Kepler and the greatest thinkers of the Renaissance, that music is to be constructed according to the divine Pythagorean ratios.
"LaHines' tale paints a robust picture of a suffering neurotic stuck in his sorrow, her protagonist recalling a Laurence Sterne character. . .. An admirable addition to that venerable category [of] novels to find humor in loss."- Kirkus Reviews
"LaHines' tale paints a robust picture of a suffering neurotic stuck in his sorrow, her protagonist recalling a Laurence Sterne character. . .. An admirable addition to that venerable category [of] novels to find humor in loss."- Kirkus Reviews
- GenresLiterary Fiction
220 pages, Paperback
First published February 4, 2019
1 person is currently reading
34 people want to read
About the author
Carol LaHines
3 books69 followersI am a life-long New Yorker. I went to New York University and St. John's School of Law and now live in Tudor City, a charming neighborhood near the United Nations. I was a practicing musician and a lawyer before becoming a published author. While practicing law at a big law firm in New York City, I began writing fiction. I published short stories over a period of years in journals like Fence, Hayden's Ferry Review, Denver Quarterly, The Literary Review, Cimarron Review, redivider, Sycamore Review, and others. Someday Everything All Makes Sense is my first published novel. I was able to mine my knowledge of the law and music theory in telling the story of Luther van der Loon, an eccentric harpsichord who has recently suffered the trauma of losing his mother. Luther is preoccupied with existential questions and questions concerning temperament, the mathematical ratios that govern how we hear music. Like most of my writing, the novel might be characterized as tragic-comic. I believe, like the great Italo Calvino, that "lightness" -- by which I mean to say a sense of playfulness leavening the serious -- is a cardinal virtue of writing. (I love Calvino, Joyce, Nabokov, Woolf, Borges, Melville, Chekhov, Gogol, Pynchon, Cormac McCarthy, Sebald....)
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
May 10, 2020
A sophisticated, musical, comedic tale of grief
‘Someday’ begins with the explanation of how Luther van der Loon’s mother dies, narrated somehow in a way that makes the reader laugh while searching for empathy. Quirky, yet deftly delivered, LaHine’s unique writing style not only works, it works impossibly well, chapter after chapter. A good example, in chapter two Luther attempts to write a thank-you note to his mother’s mortician: “Thank you for preparing my dead mother for burial, for steering me to the Eternal Bronze line of quality interment products. Thank you for holding my hand and allowing me to snivel on your cheap suit. It was unfair of me to accuse you…of being interested only in the enviable economics of business. People suffer, people die. People will always die.”
The brilliance of ‘Someday’ lies in LaHine’s ability to simultaneously conjure conflicting emotions in a manner that is anything but unnatural, when it seems like it should be, and without sacrificing the genuineness of each. Bravo, Carol.
‘Someday’ begins with the explanation of how Luther van der Loon’s mother dies, narrated somehow in a way that makes the reader laugh while searching for empathy. Quirky, yet deftly delivered, LaHine’s unique writing style not only works, it works impossibly well, chapter after chapter. A good example, in chapter two Luther attempts to write a thank-you note to his mother’s mortician: “Thank you for preparing my dead mother for burial, for steering me to the Eternal Bronze line of quality interment products. Thank you for holding my hand and allowing me to snivel on your cheap suit. It was unfair of me to accuse you…of being interested only in the enviable economics of business. People suffer, people die. People will always die.”
The brilliance of ‘Someday’ lies in LaHine’s ability to simultaneously conjure conflicting emotions in a manner that is anything but unnatural, when it seems like it should be, and without sacrificing the genuineness of each. Bravo, Carol.
April 12, 2020
I consider myself fairly hard to please when it comes to contemporary fiction. However, I found Someday Everything Will All Make Sense to be a delightful book and truly fun to read. The novel gives the reader tons of dry humor mixed with pathos and guilt as main character Luther van der Loon deals with the untimely and unusual death of his mother, who is laid low by an undercooked wonton from her local Chinese takeout restaurant. While the story is primarily an exploration of Luther's grief, it also takes you through the hilariously dispassionate legal ramifications of the unfortunate incident, and it even educates the reader on medieval musical theory, of which college professor Luther is an expert along with a bunch of his quirky colleagues who come to visit. Great story, characters, and dialog. I will definitely be reading Someday Everything Will All Make Sense again and I highly recommend you do the same.
February 6, 2021
Whether it’s Ignatious Reilly in A Confederacy of Dunces or Alvy Singer in Annie Hall, I love neurotic, laugh-out-loud characters. I can now add to the list Luther van der Loon in Carol LaHines’ Someday Everything Will All Make Sense.
Luther is an assistant professor of musicology in New York, and his mother had just died by choking on a wonton. Luther’s life is paved with banana peels, many of them of his own making. Of course he would have a girl friend who is a psychologist specializing in traumatic bereavement. Of course his specialty in music in so esoteric he would be relegated to the animal behavior building to teach his class. Of course only six students would enroll and three of those would drop.
Luther’s first-person voice is distinctive, poignant, and humorous. As a character, he is just neurotic enough to be both like and unlike the rest of us. The novel in which he comes to life is an engaging, thought-provoking read.
Luther is an assistant professor of musicology in New York, and his mother had just died by choking on a wonton. Luther’s life is paved with banana peels, many of them of his own making. Of course he would have a girl friend who is a psychologist specializing in traumatic bereavement. Of course his specialty in music in so esoteric he would be relegated to the animal behavior building to teach his class. Of course only six students would enroll and three of those would drop.
Luther’s first-person voice is distinctive, poignant, and humorous. As a character, he is just neurotic enough to be both like and unlike the rest of us. The novel in which he comes to life is an engaging, thought-provoking read.
September 22, 2020
I wonder—how many of us have at least one friend who insists on living in a past age? In my case it was an elderly Brit who spent a lifetime trying to achieve “just intonation” by tuning the vibrations of oddly shaped metal instruments. My friend would have found a kindred spirit in Luther Van der Loon—the narrator and protagonist of Carol LaHine’s darkly funny book about a professor of early music who worships the “perfect Pythagorean intervals” and resents their corruption by the modern, equally tempered 12 tone scale.
With the same passion that Luther rejects equal-temperament, he rejects the idea that his beloved mother choking on a wonton was a senseless accident for which no one can be held accountable. To the dismay of Celia, his therapist girlfriend, he wakes frequently in the middle of the night, waving his fist and cursing the legion of Chinese deliverymen in New York City. Behind her back, he initiates a law suit against the ironically named Seventh Happiness restaurant, even as he wallows in guilt at his inability to save his mother by performing the Heimlich maneuver. His constant flashbacks to the scene of her death, recurring nightmares, and frequent panic attacks are all symptoms of PTSD.
It is difficult to tell what Luther grieves for most - the loss of his mother or the loss of what he sees as the pinnacle of perfection in music. In many ways the book resembles a musical composition, with the two motifs being the death of his mother, who he fails to save, and his equally hopeless efforts to resuscitate a dying form of music.
Celia’s playbook of standard grief counseling techniques is no match for Luther’s determination to intellectualize his grief. He is unattractive physically and has a morbid streak, so one of the book’s initial mysteries is what she sees in him that keeps her by his side. Gradually we find that he is not entirely unlovable, nor is he illogical. When he opines that “There are heavenly, sonorous tones, auspicious ratios, that have been eliminated in the interest of uniformity,” I found myself taking his side, much as I love the sound of jazz piano. Seeing the world through the lens of his devotion to music also makes him endearing at times - as when he describes a lawyer as having “giant bearish hands, stubby fingers and a meager finger span — entirely inappropriate for playing a sensitive keyboard or string instrument.”
This existentialist novel lives up to its title in unpredictable and often delightful ways. Is there an order to the universe that was violated when instead of #25 - beef and broccoli — Luther’s mom changed her choice to #29 , General Tso’s Chicken thereby consuming the fatal wonton? Are the divine ratios proof positive of the existence of a Superior Being and if so why did churches let their organ pipes be reconfigured in conformity with the equal temperament? The ending hints that someday everything will all make sense.
With the same passion that Luther rejects equal-temperament, he rejects the idea that his beloved mother choking on a wonton was a senseless accident for which no one can be held accountable. To the dismay of Celia, his therapist girlfriend, he wakes frequently in the middle of the night, waving his fist and cursing the legion of Chinese deliverymen in New York City. Behind her back, he initiates a law suit against the ironically named Seventh Happiness restaurant, even as he wallows in guilt at his inability to save his mother by performing the Heimlich maneuver. His constant flashbacks to the scene of her death, recurring nightmares, and frequent panic attacks are all symptoms of PTSD.
It is difficult to tell what Luther grieves for most - the loss of his mother or the loss of what he sees as the pinnacle of perfection in music. In many ways the book resembles a musical composition, with the two motifs being the death of his mother, who he fails to save, and his equally hopeless efforts to resuscitate a dying form of music.
Celia’s playbook of standard grief counseling techniques is no match for Luther’s determination to intellectualize his grief. He is unattractive physically and has a morbid streak, so one of the book’s initial mysteries is what she sees in him that keeps her by his side. Gradually we find that he is not entirely unlovable, nor is he illogical. When he opines that “There are heavenly, sonorous tones, auspicious ratios, that have been eliminated in the interest of uniformity,” I found myself taking his side, much as I love the sound of jazz piano. Seeing the world through the lens of his devotion to music also makes him endearing at times - as when he describes a lawyer as having “giant bearish hands, stubby fingers and a meager finger span — entirely inappropriate for playing a sensitive keyboard or string instrument.”
This existentialist novel lives up to its title in unpredictable and often delightful ways. Is there an order to the universe that was violated when instead of #25 - beef and broccoli — Luther’s mom changed her choice to #29 , General Tso’s Chicken thereby consuming the fatal wonton? Are the divine ratios proof positive of the existence of a Superior Being and if so why did churches let their organ pipes be reconfigured in conformity with the equal temperament? The ending hints that someday everything will all make sense.
January 25, 2021
"What food weighs two thousand pounds?"
"Wonton soup"
An old chestnut that has resonance with "Someday Everything Will All Make Sense", wherein the soup in question hangs like a millstone around the neck of its protagonist.
Luther van der Loon, teacher of medieval music and champion of the un-tempered scale and the Pythagorean comma, is wracked with guilt at not being able to have saved his beloved mother from choking on a you-know-what while chowing down on the aforementioned soup.
A sad tale, to be sure, but Carol La Hines is aiming for the funny bone, serving up a novel of gallows humor. To call Luther a nebbish would be a gross understatement. His constant bemoaning becomes tiresome even to himself, prompting a decision to take legal action against the Chinese restaurant that served the fatal wonton. Some of the novel's best moments come in the interaction between Luther and his attorney while preparing him to deliver his testimony at a deposition. They ring true, which makes the exchange particularly ironic and biting.
Carol LaHines's knowledge of early music permeates the novel, as does her understanding of the legal profession. She is either a medieval and legal scholar or has done a hell of a lot of research. Indeed, it's Luther's love of early music that ultimately redeems him to this reader. His final symposium with fellow devotees of the untempered scale is a poignant, funny tale, with such toasts as "to the sacred ratios as they were meant to be heard!", mixed with an "impromptu enactment of the medieval drama, Slaughter of the Innocents", followed by a rousing version of Inna Gadda Davida!
Luther ultimately achieves a kind of apotheosis, reconciling his body, if not his spirit, to the soup that has weighed so heavily on his conscience. We're left with a tarnished anti-hero, quixotically slouching his way towards the day when Just Intonation will triumph.
"Wonton soup"
An old chestnut that has resonance with "Someday Everything Will All Make Sense", wherein the soup in question hangs like a millstone around the neck of its protagonist.
Luther van der Loon, teacher of medieval music and champion of the un-tempered scale and the Pythagorean comma, is wracked with guilt at not being able to have saved his beloved mother from choking on a you-know-what while chowing down on the aforementioned soup.
A sad tale, to be sure, but Carol La Hines is aiming for the funny bone, serving up a novel of gallows humor. To call Luther a nebbish would be a gross understatement. His constant bemoaning becomes tiresome even to himself, prompting a decision to take legal action against the Chinese restaurant that served the fatal wonton. Some of the novel's best moments come in the interaction between Luther and his attorney while preparing him to deliver his testimony at a deposition. They ring true, which makes the exchange particularly ironic and biting.
Carol LaHines's knowledge of early music permeates the novel, as does her understanding of the legal profession. She is either a medieval and legal scholar or has done a hell of a lot of research. Indeed, it's Luther's love of early music that ultimately redeems him to this reader. His final symposium with fellow devotees of the untempered scale is a poignant, funny tale, with such toasts as "to the sacred ratios as they were meant to be heard!", mixed with an "impromptu enactment of the medieval drama, Slaughter of the Innocents", followed by a rousing version of Inna Gadda Davida!
Luther ultimately achieves a kind of apotheosis, reconciling his body, if not his spirit, to the soup that has weighed so heavily on his conscience. We're left with a tarnished anti-hero, quixotically slouching his way towards the day when Just Intonation will triumph.
August 29, 2020
Carole LaHines’ debut novel, Someday Everything Will All Make Sense, opens with a grabber of a scene: Luther van der Loon describing the death of his mother, who choked to death on a wonton as he tried--and failed--to save her with a badly executed Heimlich maneuver.
We come to know Luther as a hapless fellow, even before he failed to save his mother’s life. He is nearing middle age never having lived on his own, with no other family but his mother. He has protruding ears, a limp, and a sinus condition. If that weren’t bad enough, he is a failed harpsichord virtuoso turned associate professor of Medieval and Renaissance musicology, whose department has been relegated to the reviled animal research wing of the university.
After the trauma of his mother’s death, Luther is subjected to the indignities of the funeral industry, with descriptions reminiscent of Jessica Mitford’s The American Way of Death,
(which he makes sure to read in an act of psychic self-flagellation):
. . . the shelves of coffins, from the visibly cheap to the garishly expensive, finishes of polished mahogany, gleaming steel, and eternal bronze; satin-lined, with pillows and blankets to conceal the hideous drainages that in time would mar the interior.
The rest of her, in reptilian fashion, had adjusted to the outside temperature (in this case, the chilly 60 degrees of the funerary chapel, the thermostat no doubt set to ensure optimal preservation in the days before burial).
The rest of the novel consists of Luther’s narrating his grief journey. (He would object very strongly to the phrase “grief journey.” He is having none of his therapist girlfriend’s forays into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy when she loses patience with his constant perseverating over the gelatinous agent of his mother’s death.)
In addition to Luther’s black humor directed toward the funeral industry, his depiction of the absurdity of Academia provides some of the funniest moments of the novel, such as the results of budget cuts to one’s beloved annual symposium for scholars of the arcane:
Rather than a breakfast buffet in the Tishman Building vestibule, participants would have to choke down croissants and mini-bagels in the halls of the vivisectionist wing, fearful that an escaped chimpanzee (those not immobilized in a vice somewhere) might make off with their sliced cantaloupe.
Most striking about my experience reading Someday Everything Will All Make Sense was Luther’s use of language as first-person narrator. He has just gone through a horrendous experience and he tells us how traumatized and grief-stricken he is. However, I felt distanced from him, which is unusual when reading a first-person narrative.
Upon reflection, I realized that Luther is using the elevated language of black humor and arcane scholarship to distance himself from his grief, all the while insisting that he is expressing his grief. Ultimately, isn’t this a very human response, reflecting the absurdity of our need to make sense of a senseless event, and, ultimately, the inability of language to express the depth of our grief at losing someone we love?
We come to know Luther as a hapless fellow, even before he failed to save his mother’s life. He is nearing middle age never having lived on his own, with no other family but his mother. He has protruding ears, a limp, and a sinus condition. If that weren’t bad enough, he is a failed harpsichord virtuoso turned associate professor of Medieval and Renaissance musicology, whose department has been relegated to the reviled animal research wing of the university.
After the trauma of his mother’s death, Luther is subjected to the indignities of the funeral industry, with descriptions reminiscent of Jessica Mitford’s The American Way of Death,
(which he makes sure to read in an act of psychic self-flagellation):
. . . the shelves of coffins, from the visibly cheap to the garishly expensive, finishes of polished mahogany, gleaming steel, and eternal bronze; satin-lined, with pillows and blankets to conceal the hideous drainages that in time would mar the interior.
The rest of her, in reptilian fashion, had adjusted to the outside temperature (in this case, the chilly 60 degrees of the funerary chapel, the thermostat no doubt set to ensure optimal preservation in the days before burial).
The rest of the novel consists of Luther’s narrating his grief journey. (He would object very strongly to the phrase “grief journey.” He is having none of his therapist girlfriend’s forays into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy when she loses patience with his constant perseverating over the gelatinous agent of his mother’s death.)
In addition to Luther’s black humor directed toward the funeral industry, his depiction of the absurdity of Academia provides some of the funniest moments of the novel, such as the results of budget cuts to one’s beloved annual symposium for scholars of the arcane:
Rather than a breakfast buffet in the Tishman Building vestibule, participants would have to choke down croissants and mini-bagels in the halls of the vivisectionist wing, fearful that an escaped chimpanzee (those not immobilized in a vice somewhere) might make off with their sliced cantaloupe.
Most striking about my experience reading Someday Everything Will All Make Sense was Luther’s use of language as first-person narrator. He has just gone through a horrendous experience and he tells us how traumatized and grief-stricken he is. However, I felt distanced from him, which is unusual when reading a first-person narrative.
Upon reflection, I realized that Luther is using the elevated language of black humor and arcane scholarship to distance himself from his grief, all the while insisting that he is expressing his grief. Ultimately, isn’t this a very human response, reflecting the absurdity of our need to make sense of a senseless event, and, ultimately, the inability of language to express the depth of our grief at losing someone we love?
May 28, 2020
Author Carol LaHines shows a delightful sense of humor in this book about a man whose mother dies from eating Chinese take-out. How can that be something that makes sense? Loved ones should die from diseases or dangers clearly labeled as dangers -- speeding drivers, armed criminals, advanced heart disease (after plenty of warning), cancer. But choking on Chinese take-out? How can that make sense? In reality, for most people who lose a loved one in death, it often takes a long time for it to come close to making sense. Well-wishers come by to try to bring wisdom or spiritual insight, but to the one in mourning it all seems like jumbled nonsense. It takes a lot to even cling to the hope that, as this book title proclaims, "Someday Everything Will All Make Sense." So, in the midst of absurd, nonsensical reality, humor is as good an approach as any to try to put it all in perspective.
The main character Luther Van der Loon (even his name denoted his insanity!) cannot accept his mother's death. He obsesses neurotically over every detail of the death, and sets forth on a far-fetched lawsuit against the restaurant who sold the Chinese take-out. His obsession carries over into his profession of teaching medieval music (I am not educated in the area of music and music theory, and had trouble following this at times. I almost took away a star because of this, but in the end figured that was my shortcoming, and not the book's.) His psychologist girlfriend tries to steer him through the process rationally, but to little avail.
In all this is an excellent treatment of the chaotic process of mourning. It can be read for its insight into the mourning process, for the humor it shows about the human experience, or just for a good story about complex people. Either way, it is a very good read.
The main character Luther Van der Loon (even his name denoted his insanity!) cannot accept his mother's death. He obsesses neurotically over every detail of the death, and sets forth on a far-fetched lawsuit against the restaurant who sold the Chinese take-out. His obsession carries over into his profession of teaching medieval music (I am not educated in the area of music and music theory, and had trouble following this at times. I almost took away a star because of this, but in the end figured that was my shortcoming, and not the book's.) His psychologist girlfriend tries to steer him through the process rationally, but to little avail.
In all this is an excellent treatment of the chaotic process of mourning. It can be read for its insight into the mourning process, for the humor it shows about the human experience, or just for a good story about complex people. Either way, it is a very good read.
December 6, 2020
An eccentric professor of medieval musicology, Luther van der Loon is forced out of his comfort zone when his mother dies unexpectedly choking on a wonton soup dumpling.
Author Carol LaHines' excellent novel turns the tables on conventional storytelling by having the reader participate in a slice of Luther's life through the lens of his own inimitable persona. Luther is boring and unsociable. He's so tormented by his mother's untimely death that he becomes obsessed with death itself, in all its manifestations. He resists his girlfriend's efforts to rescue him from paralyzing phobias associated with his mother and Chinese takeout. He's a brilliant performer, but he plays the obscure and unpopular harpsichord (named Aveline after a medieval morality play). He teaches a class in fourteenth century pre-mensural notation that is poorly attended and threatened with department budget cuts and worse.
But don't let Luther's banal lifestyle scare you! Written in first person, LaHines turns Luther's words and thoughts into an entertaining and thought-provoking character study. Luther may suffer from multiple insecurities, but he expresses his fate in ways that will both make you laugh at times and at other times, appreciate life's foibles as faced by an introverted scholarly bohemian.
LaHines' excellent writing and research skills are evident on every page, creating a fascinating story with an imaginative plot filled with extraordinary characters.
Author Carol LaHines' excellent novel turns the tables on conventional storytelling by having the reader participate in a slice of Luther's life through the lens of his own inimitable persona. Luther is boring and unsociable. He's so tormented by his mother's untimely death that he becomes obsessed with death itself, in all its manifestations. He resists his girlfriend's efforts to rescue him from paralyzing phobias associated with his mother and Chinese takeout. He's a brilliant performer, but he plays the obscure and unpopular harpsichord (named Aveline after a medieval morality play). He teaches a class in fourteenth century pre-mensural notation that is poorly attended and threatened with department budget cuts and worse.
But don't let Luther's banal lifestyle scare you! Written in first person, LaHines turns Luther's words and thoughts into an entertaining and thought-provoking character study. Luther may suffer from multiple insecurities, but he expresses his fate in ways that will both make you laugh at times and at other times, appreciate life's foibles as faced by an introverted scholarly bohemian.
LaHines' excellent writing and research skills are evident on every page, creating a fascinating story with an imaginative plot filled with extraordinary characters.
April 28, 2020
The language of Someday Everything Will All Make Sense by Carol Lahines is music itself—melodic and lilting as it grapples with guilt, paranoia, legalities, and how the process of grief takes its own sweet time.
Lovable professor of musicology and harpsichord virtuoso Luther van der Loon is so filled with guilt over the death of his mother who choked on a wonton, he sets out, perhaps unintentionally, on a quest to deal with his grief. The very process of asphyxiation is similar to what Luther is feeling. Even his sensible therapist girlfriend, Cecilia, cannot bring rationality and calm to him, cannot cure his “emotional minefields.” Set in a downtown New York City neighborhood, Lahines writes the city like an authentic character in and of itself. Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is skillfully crafted, never without humor and quirkiness, giving Luther’s mission to sue the Chinese restaurant where his mother had her last meal a certain pin-point truth.
LaHines' narrative has an organic musicality to it as her observations hit just the right note: "Somewhere, in the deep silences, her soul, her projection, her spiritual aspect, vibrates sympathetically." Ultimately, we cannot help but root for Luther and willingly share his wound as he crawls toward emotional reconciliation. Highly recommended!
Lovable professor of musicology and harpsichord virtuoso Luther van der Loon is so filled with guilt over the death of his mother who choked on a wonton, he sets out, perhaps unintentionally, on a quest to deal with his grief. The very process of asphyxiation is similar to what Luther is feeling. Even his sensible therapist girlfriend, Cecilia, cannot bring rationality and calm to him, cannot cure his “emotional minefields.” Set in a downtown New York City neighborhood, Lahines writes the city like an authentic character in and of itself. Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is skillfully crafted, never without humor and quirkiness, giving Luther’s mission to sue the Chinese restaurant where his mother had her last meal a certain pin-point truth.
LaHines' narrative has an organic musicality to it as her observations hit just the right note: "Somewhere, in the deep silences, her soul, her projection, her spiritual aspect, vibrates sympathetically." Ultimately, we cannot help but root for Luther and willingly share his wound as he crawls toward emotional reconciliation. Highly recommended!
June 27, 2021
Thanks to picking up random books based on the oddest of things, I sometimes end up reading very different storylines over the course of any given year. This one was not something I would have ordinarily liked, but strangely enough, I kept wanting to see the extent to which our lead protagonist, the mourning son, Luther trying to make sense of his world without his mother in it, would go.
We are left with no doubts about how much of a 'mama's boy' Luther is despite his advanced age and surprisingly stable romantic relationship with an intelligent woman. The story begins with Luther having to witness his mother's passing helplessly. This situation would have turned anyone's head, let alone someone who's life is very dependent on that parent.
Luther spirals out of control, obsessing over anything that he could do to clear his conscience, and things get remotely ridiculous. Despite hyperbolic reactions, as a reader, I never felt like the sadness was not real because it suited the character to mourn in that particular way. It was a distinctly different read but was written smoothly, and once I started reading it, I worked my way to the end quite easily. I would pick up something by this author again.
I received an ARC thanks to NetGalley and the publishers, but the review is entirely based on my own reading experience.
We are left with no doubts about how much of a 'mama's boy' Luther is despite his advanced age and surprisingly stable romantic relationship with an intelligent woman. The story begins with Luther having to witness his mother's passing helplessly. This situation would have turned anyone's head, let alone someone who's life is very dependent on that parent.
Luther spirals out of control, obsessing over anything that he could do to clear his conscience, and things get remotely ridiculous. Despite hyperbolic reactions, as a reader, I never felt like the sadness was not real because it suited the character to mourn in that particular way. It was a distinctly different read but was written smoothly, and once I started reading it, I worked my way to the end quite easily. I would pick up something by this author again.
I received an ARC thanks to NetGalley and the publishers, but the review is entirely based on my own reading experience.
June 14, 2019
Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is a stellar debut novel that wrestles with Big Life questions through a deeply flawed, awkward, maladjusted, lovable, tragically comical character, Luther van der Loon. He is brilliantly developed and reminds me of other curmudgeonly delightful characters I also adored— Arthur Less (Less), Don Tillman (The Rosie Project) and even Ove.
As the story opens, Luther’s mother chokes on a wonton from a delivery order and Luther fails to save her using the Heimlich. This drives a story of loss, longing, regret, grief, mourning, and love that is all cleverly rooted in Luther’s expertise and obsession with medieval music. One telling quote that I loved: “Though sensitive to the state of our instruments and the quality of the sound—accustomed to making string adjustments, refining tensions, replacing nuts and the like—we musicians were frequently at a loss for words and tone deaf in matters of emotion.”
The entire cast of characters are rich, from Luther to Cecilia, his grief therapist girlfriend, the array of medieval and Renaissance musicians, and the personal injury lawyer, Ms. LaPlanta. Sometimes you laugh so hard you cry. Sometimes, the tears are real. But in the end, you’ve been given a lot to think about in a most original way.
As the story opens, Luther’s mother chokes on a wonton from a delivery order and Luther fails to save her using the Heimlich. This drives a story of loss, longing, regret, grief, mourning, and love that is all cleverly rooted in Luther’s expertise and obsession with medieval music. One telling quote that I loved: “Though sensitive to the state of our instruments and the quality of the sound—accustomed to making string adjustments, refining tensions, replacing nuts and the like—we musicians were frequently at a loss for words and tone deaf in matters of emotion.”
The entire cast of characters are rich, from Luther to Cecilia, his grief therapist girlfriend, the array of medieval and Renaissance musicians, and the personal injury lawyer, Ms. LaPlanta. Sometimes you laugh so hard you cry. Sometimes, the tears are real. But in the end, you’ve been given a lot to think about in a most original way.
March 26, 2019
"I still had no idea, after fifteen years, what she saw in me. Though by no means repugnant, I was not what one would call traditionally handsome. I have a prominent brow some might call looming, others (mean-spirited individuals, cruel children) have likened to that of a Cro-Magnon man. I have ears that protrude despite two operations to pin them back. I have a limp, a slight hitch in my step, attributable (specialists speculate) to my positioning in the womb, to the happenstance of one foot being tucked uncomfortably under the other, inhibiting movement. My sinus condition necessitates frequent irrigation with a saltwater solution and a Neti pot."
So says Luther van der Loon, an awkward but well-meaning musicologist reeling from his mother's senseless take-out related death. If you're the kind of reader who goes around quoting Ignatious J. Reilly, you'll fall head over heels into "Someday." I was lucky enough to see this novel in early drafts and I hope someone makes this into a movie!
So says Luther van der Loon, an awkward but well-meaning musicologist reeling from his mother's senseless take-out related death. If you're the kind of reader who goes around quoting Ignatious J. Reilly, you'll fall head over heels into "Someday." I was lucky enough to see this novel in early drafts and I hope someone makes this into a movie!
December 28, 2020
Carol LaHines has created a unique and realistic character, and I hope this book becomes a film so I can see Luther van der Loon on screen! Luther is a lovably neurotic medieval music professor whose mother dies eating takeout from their favorite Chinese restaurant when a rubbery won-ton becomes trapped in her throat. There were many surprises, and I found myself suddenly laughing loudly along the way as I turned the pages, wondering what would become of Luther without his dear mother.
Luther is not unlike those of us who have lost loved ones, but he is unlike anyone I know in his obsessive observations as he moves through his grief--very slowly.
If you love quirky characters and humor, this book will not disappoint. In addition to Luther, there are sub-characters who contribute to the dark humor. Piccolo Fabrizzi, a visiting music professor deserves his own book--plenty of rich character and so aptly described by the author.
If you are looking for intelligent writing, highly amusing characters, and ample humor, Someday Everything Will All Makes sense is a great fit!
Luther is not unlike those of us who have lost loved ones, but he is unlike anyone I know in his obsessive observations as he moves through his grief--very slowly.
If you love quirky characters and humor, this book will not disappoint. In addition to Luther, there are sub-characters who contribute to the dark humor. Piccolo Fabrizzi, a visiting music professor deserves his own book--plenty of rich character and so aptly described by the author.
If you are looking for intelligent writing, highly amusing characters, and ample humor, Someday Everything Will All Makes sense is a great fit!
February 8, 2020
Carol LaHines is an author with a wicked sense of humor. The protagonist in her latest novel, Someday, Everything Will Make Sense, Luther van der Loon is a middle-aged professor of Musicology struggling through an extended paroxysm of grief as a result of the loss of his mother. Luther has a girlfriend, but he still lives with his mother.
Luther is a mama’s boy fraught with rage and guilt. Rage over the senselessness of his mother’s death and guilt at not being able to save her with an unsuccessful Heimlich maneuver as she choked on a wonton stuck in her windpipe.
Tongue firmly stuck in cheek, LaHines, narrates Luther’s story. She demonstrates her literary adroitness and a razor-sharp eye, developing her quirky protagonist’s character without allowing the mountains of arcane musical theory she supplies to slow her down. Literary fiction at its best.
January 27, 2020
This was such a great debut, as it really explored the dynamics of grief and guilt. Luther is fails to save his mother from dying as she chokes on a wonton from a delivery order. This singular event influences his life immensely. The author did a great job writing about Luther's unresolved feelings for his mother, as well as his relationships with his grief therapist girlfriend amongst others.
February 29, 2020
A modern tale of the grief we hold onto after losing a loved one (in this case, the protagonist's mother), set like a counterpoint against the apparently polarized opinions of music from the medieval and Renaissance periods of which he is a scholar. LaHines' writing is crisp and refreshing, sprinkled throughout with gems of dry wit. An excellent book!
October 8, 2021
"The grieving patient extrapolates his own, private pain onto the world around him, believing he is acutely vulnerable to loss."
July 4, 2021
Everyone under God’s heaven is given a life. A life that may be short, long, happy, sad, rich or poor. No life is equal. But the poorest life must be the life of an angst-ridden neurotic, whose constant fears are torture to the mind.Such is the life of Luther van der Loon, the main character in Carol LaHines SOMEDAY EVERTHING WILL ALL MAKE SENSE, a talented musician who is obsessed with the death of his beloved mother as well as his own mortality.
The leading character in a book with a disorder whose characteristics are thus portrayed could only spell DULL in the hands of the majority of writers. But, no, no, no, no. not in the capable hands of LaHines. The character that she brings to life is amusing in his unwitting, even lovable, way of obsessive fears and worries.Yet it is apparent, that despite his paranoia, he is quite the proficient lover when it comes to making it with his long and very patient girl-friend Cecilia. Hmmmm!!!
While I am witness to twists and turns in his complicated and neurotic nature, it also makes me think and wonder.Are we not all somewhat paranoid; am I not seeing a little of myself in him? Well, just a little, perhaps.
It is a very amusing and enlightening read. Reminds me of a poem ‘Know then thyself, presume not God to scan. The proper study of mankind is man.’And so it is. Do we ever discover who we are, and if we do, Are we who we long believed ourselves to be! Perhaps between the lines in this novel, you may actually discover who you are.
This is a novel that makes you think. Makes you wonder about yourself, your long-term thoughts your feelings.Isn’t that what life is about, discovery, wherever it might take us.
There is a lot more to this novel than you might think. Think, that is it, it makes you think as a work of literature should, or what is its worth.
I loved it, even though it made me wonder—Me!!!!!
December 26, 2020
Someday Everything Will All Make Sense. It's an appropriate title for this thought-provoking book about a man still living with his mother. He works as a music professor and has a long-time relationship with his girlfriend Cecilia. Life takes an unexpected turn, as his mother dies accidentally. It's a seemingly senseless death, as she chokes on a wonton noodle while eating chinese takeout. The book is an unveiling of the son's working through his grief, as he feels everything from anger, and grief and depression and guilt. For as long as he can remember, it's just been him and his mother, so this makes for an emotional story. The book is an unusual one, but the part of the book that tells about his profession as a music teacher is a little harder to get through. The personal aspects of his life, involving his mother, his friends and his girlfriend kept me reading. If you're curious what actually happens to those involved in the book, read this.
February 3, 2020
This book was different. Luther van der Loom will stay with me for awhile. I found him to be quirky, vulnerable, funny, and witty, in the same vein as Eleanor Oliphant and Ove. I don’t know that I will ever forget this book.
Unfortunately, I do feel like the book fell flat for me in some areas. I didn’t feel connected to Luther in the way I would have liked to. I didn’t find myself rooting for him or even incredibly concerned for the outcome of his story.
While I’m usually a fan of the satirical writing style with a splash of humor, the crowded sentences really kept me from connecting with the plot and characters. I felt the extensive vocabulary detracted from the heart of the story.
Overall, I’m thankful to have read it and can see the immense talent taken to write such a story. I’m just not sure it resonated with me as deeply as it could have.
Unfortunately, I do feel like the book fell flat for me in some areas. I didn’t feel connected to Luther in the way I would have liked to. I didn’t find myself rooting for him or even incredibly concerned for the outcome of his story.
While I’m usually a fan of the satirical writing style with a splash of humor, the crowded sentences really kept me from connecting with the plot and characters. I felt the extensive vocabulary detracted from the heart of the story.
Overall, I’m thankful to have read it and can see the immense talent taken to write such a story. I’m just not sure it resonated with me as deeply as it could have.
December 16, 2020
Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is a great and poignant debut novel. The writing is brilliant and funny, while taking on serious topics such as death and nihilistic tendencies. At some points I was a little confused on all of the musical talking points since I had no idea what was being talked about even though our character obviously did.
Our main character, Luther, watches his own mother choke on a dumpling, and our story starts from there, twisting and turning through the grieving process. I loved that, but I definitely found some of the story lagging through subplots. I think this would be a great novel for someone who just have someone recently pass, but it was not as quick as a read as I was expecting.
Thanks to Netgalley and Adelaide Books LLC for providing me with a copy of this book. All opinions are my own.
Our main character, Luther, watches his own mother choke on a dumpling, and our story starts from there, twisting and turning through the grieving process. I loved that, but I definitely found some of the story lagging through subplots. I think this would be a great novel for someone who just have someone recently pass, but it was not as quick as a read as I was expecting.
Thanks to Netgalley and Adelaide Books LLC for providing me with a copy of this book. All opinions are my own.
March 9, 2022
This book was different. Luther van der Loon will stay with me for awhile. I found him to be quirky, vulnerable, funny, and witty, in the same vein as Eleanor Oliphant and Ove. I don’t know that I will ever forget this book.
Unfortunately, I do feel like the book fell flat for me in some areas. I didn’t feel connected to Luther in the way I would have liked to. I didn’t find myself rooting for him or even incredibly concerned for the outcome of his story.
While I’m usually a fan of the satirical writing style with a splash of humor, the crowded sentences really kept me from connecting with the plot and characters. I felt the extensive vocabulary detracted from the heart of the story.
Overall, I’m thankful to have read it and can see the immense talent taken to write such a story. I’m just not sure it resonated with me as deeply as it could have.
Unfortunately, I do feel like the book fell flat for me in some areas. I didn’t feel connected to Luther in the way I would have liked to. I didn’t find myself rooting for him or even incredibly concerned for the outcome of his story.
While I’m usually a fan of the satirical writing style with a splash of humor, the crowded sentences really kept me from connecting with the plot and characters. I felt the extensive vocabulary detracted from the heart of the story.
Overall, I’m thankful to have read it and can see the immense talent taken to write such a story. I’m just not sure it resonated with me as deeply as it could have.
February 6, 2020
This is a very odd book. It’s not bad, but it’s just odd. Luther has one of the most unique voices I’ve read in fiction, and Carol LaHines does a good job of immersing the reader in Luther’s thought process and emotions. Sometimes the book was a bit slow, namely when it went all hardcore into music theory stuff I just don’t understand, but I get that it was relevant for the character and for the novel. I wasn’t a fan of the Piccolo stuff at the very end, so whether that’s my lack of understanding its importance or not is still to be determined. Overall, this is an excellent book on grieving, guilt, and how to move on after a loved one’s death.
March 22, 2019
This is a dazzlingly original deadpan comic novel. From the very first scene, in which the protagonist’s mother expires via won-ton soup (no spoilers here), told as if it were a small-crime notice in the New York Post, through her son’s tortuous career as a failing small-time academic trapped in a world of ancient musical minutiae, this is a dead-on perfect satire of so many things that I lost count, but grief is one of them. A satirical take on grief? Impossible! you say. Oh no, I reply. Read this book. Worthy of Nabokov.
May 17, 2020
I enjoyed spending time with narrator Luther van der Loon as he navigates the sudden death of his beloved mother. The fortune cookie on the front cover hints at the "how" of her death: she chokes on a dumpling in the wonton soup at their favorite restaurant. On this journey we meet his girlfriend, his academic colleagues, his musician friends, and the lawyer he hires to sue the restaurant. All these characters have a hand in helping him process the death. And what does he find on the other side of grief? That's what this novel is about. This is a story full of humor and poignancy!
January 17, 2020
I'm not sure that I've ever read anything quite like this book, which certainly excels at satire from start to finish. I guess that for me it was a little too crammed with minutiae which, while serving as the obsession of the narrator, unfortunately rarely kept my interest as a reader. Some truly funny moments and an original, left of centre study on the depths of grief that struggled in my own opinion somewhere in between.
April 8, 2020
I received a complementary copy of this book from the publisher and Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
LaHines' Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is good, as far as debut novels go. LaHines' writing is smart: it fuses modern concerns and questions regarding death and existentialism, with a macabre twist.
Whilst Hines' character development is done superbly (especially for the protagonist) and her writing is excellent, I found the book dragging on and on, almost as if the reader were undergoing obsessive phases regarding death themselves. However, the book was well-written and the plot was believable: 7/10.
LaHines' Someday Everything Will All Make Sense is good, as far as debut novels go. LaHines' writing is smart: it fuses modern concerns and questions regarding death and existentialism, with a macabre twist.
Whilst Hines' character development is done superbly (especially for the protagonist) and her writing is excellent, I found the book dragging on and on, almost as if the reader were undergoing obsessive phases regarding death themselves. However, the book was well-written and the plot was believable: 7/10.
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