A wonderful new storyteller unleashes a soaring debut that sweeps from the hills of Hawaii to the veldt of South Africa.
Come Sunday is that joyous, special a saga that captivates from the very first page, breaking our hearts while making our spirits soar.
Abbe Deighton is a woman who has lost her bearings. Once a child of the African plains, she is now settled in Hawaii, married to a minister, and waging her battles in a hallway of monotony. There is the leaky roof, the chafing expectations of her husband’s congregation, and the constant demands of motherhood. But in an instant, beginning with the skid of tires, Abbe’s battlefield is transformed when her three-year-old daughter is killed, triggering in Abbe a seismic grief that will cut a swath through the landscape of her life and her identity.
What an enthralling debut this is! What a storyteller we have here! As Isla Morley’s novel sweeps from the hills of Honolulu to the veldt of South Africa, we catch a hint of the spirit of Barbara Kingsolver and the mesmerizing truth of Jodi Picoult. We are reminded of how it felt, a while ago, to dive into the drama of The Thorn Birds .
Come Sunday is a novel about searching for a true homeland, family bonds torn asunder, and the unearthing of decades-old secrets. It is a novel to celebrate, and Isla Morley is a writer to love.
Isla Morley grew up in South Africa during apartheid, the child of a British father and fourth-generation South African mother. During the country's State of Emergency, she graduated from Nelson Mandela University in Port Elizabeth with a degree in English Literature. By 1994 she was one of the youngest magazine editors in South Africa, but left career, country and kin when she married an American and moved to California. For more than a decade she pursued a career in non-profit work, focusing on the needs of women and children. Her debut novel Come Sunday won the Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize for Fiction and was a finalist for the Commonwealth Prize. Her novel Above was an IndieNext pick, a Best Buzz Book, and a Publishers Weekly Best New Book. The Last Blue is her third novel. She has lived in some of the most culturally diverse places of the world, including Cape Town, London, Honolulu and now Los Angeles where she shares a home with her husband, daughter, three cats and five tortoises.
The death of a child is a devastating event. The death of three year old Cleo in a freak accident only serves to widen the wedge between Abbe and her husband Greg, who pastors a church in Hawaii. This novel captures two people who have different ways of attempting to deal with their grief. I could feel for both Abbe and Greg in the way they tried to deal with their huge loss. The people of the church deal with the young child’s death in various ways, some by providing food, others with platitudes about time and healing. Abbe attempts to cut herself of from much of their well-meaning, if at times misguided concern. It is a fairly accurate picture of the way people sometimes struggle with the grieving and what to say or how to act. Kelsey Oliver, a retired financier and warden of the church Greg pastors, is one of those people who don’t like change or anything that disagrees with the way he thinks things should be done. Other members of the church and neighbourhood came across as real and add balance. Abbe is also angry at God, who in her view, has not helped but simply taken Cleo away. Since anger is sometimes a natural reaction in grief, I found this understandable, though I could also understand how Greg could choose a different way of dealing with the situation. As well as the grief story, the narrative flashes back at times to Abbe’s childhood in Africa and the culture there. The writing is beautiful and visual. I ended up reading the description of merry-go-rounds on page 74 aloud to my husband because it captured what we remembered of them from childhood perfectly. For much of the story I thought this would be a four to five star read as I was so involved in in, but somewhere along the way it changed. I started to get annoyed with Abbe and her treatment of others, especially Greg. By the time Abbe returned to Africa, I had lost interest somewhat and was looking forward to the end. I found the ending disappointing in ways which I don’t want to go into. All in all, for me this ended up another three and a half star read. I seem to be stuck in a pattern of three and a half stars at present. It is worth reading though as it gives an insight into grief as well as a look at another culture.
Come Sunday, Isla Morley’s doleful debut profoundly orchestrates the excruciatingly merciless emotion we call “grief.” When a tragic accident claims her precocious three-year-old daughter Cleo, we vicariously examine how a mother’s conventional daily life collapses instantaneously.
Abbe Deighton and her husband Greg, an uncharismatic pastor of a small church in one of the poorest areas of Hawaii innocently encounter one of life’s most unjustifiable catastrophes: the loss of a child. Abbe endures her cavernous grief by isolating herself, while totally contemptuous of any and all well-meaning attempts to alleviate her emotional and physical distress. Greg subconsciously tethers himself to pastoral responsibilities, unaware his methodical sanctuary in grieving further alienates him from his unapproachable wife. Grief is obstinate in its indeterminate passage; marriage often succumbs in its presence.
While engaged in excessive and exhaustive introspection, Abbe unintentionally regresses to her emotionally conflicted South African childhood as a disquieting conduit to assuage the painful facets grief presents. The tormented angst-ridden evolution opens doors to eventual resolution when Abbe returns to her homeland. There she unknowingly sheds her shroud of blame and guilt, and surprisingly acquires an abrupt yet mystifying strength to confront the fallacious deceptive memories long believed, and the deeply imbedded secrets left unexplored. Within the tumultuous confines of a presumably democratic, yet vastly constricted South Africa, Abbe permits forgiveness to triumph.
“Your past is always with you---be friends with it and it will help you find a good future.” –Page 269
Isla Morley depicts a realistic portrait of the all-consuming madness that often accompanies unrelenting grief. The compositional structure was appropriately consistent with the subject matter. While it was a distinctively emotional read, it provided valuable reflective components. After my nine-year-old brother’s accidental drowning, as witness to my mother’s unspeakable descent into this inviolable agony, I can attest to the brutal accuracy and painful reality that Come Sunday characterizes.
"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them". - Leo Tolstoy
For Abbe Deighton it is her three-year-old daughter Cleo who makes Abbe's otherwise banal life worth living. When Cleo dies in a tragic accident, Abbe no longer sees the point in living. Come Sunday captures the raw grief of a mother whose identity as a mother has been irrevocably shattered. Cleo's death forces Abbe to reexamine the source of her identity when her role as mother is nullified, her increasingly shaky relationship with her pastor husband Greg, and her nominal faith in God.
Chronologically, come Sunday is told through a mixture of Abbe's present heartache and flashbacks to her troubled childhood. Geographically, it traverses the terrain from Hawaii to South Africa.
Guilt and blame factor heavily into Abbe's mode of survival following Cleo's death. Forgiveness and freedom factor heavily into her road to peace. The road is long and at many points seemingly too dark and hopeless to bear, but Abbe comes to embrace life once again largely by reaching out to others. As her grandmother once told her, "Mending the world is the only way we are mended ourselves."
Come Sunday is not a feel good novel, but, for those who can dive into it's sadness, it speaks genuinely to the deep pain of loss and to finding the will to carry on living. Come Sunday is Morley's debut novel.
Come Sunday is a heart-wrenching, beautifully-written novel that delves deep into a mother’s grief. Abbe’s loss and pain are palpable, emotions felt deep in my gut. The story follows the liturgical calendar, from one Easter to the next, which is a unique and fitting timeline. Portions of this book are set in South Africa, the landscape and the politics adding an intriguing layer. This is not an easy book to read—the author pulls no punches in the agony that the characters go through, but there is peace at the end, which is all we can ever hope for as we live our lives.
I’ve finished reading the book by Isla Morley, Come Sunday. I found it to be very well written, but disturbing.
The story starts with the tragic death of a 3 year old daughter on Good Friday. During the subsequent year the marriage of the husband (a minister) and his wife disintegrates. Flashbacks show the parallel between this failed marriage and the earlier abusive childhood of the wife. The weaving together of the present, the past at different stages, and religious symbolism, is very skillfully done.
There is a message of hope by the conclusion of the novel, but I was disappointed that it does not spring from the gospel story. The wife rejects her husband and his attempts to find peace in a biblical understanding of forgiveness. She returns to her family homeland in Africa, and in the revelation of her elderly caretaker, a shaman-type figure, she finally understands her mother’s secret choices. The truly disappointing part for me was that woman’s mother is revealed to have chosen to poison her abusive husband, finally dying from the poison herself, and this is held up as a positive choice of a “warrior”. Symbolically choosing her own death, and following the model of being a warrior in her own situation, our protagonist is enabled to break the curse on her life.
I couldn’t agree with that solution.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Well, it's weird that this book doesn't fit into ANY of my shelves besides "read 2009"!
I liked this book. Now, it wasn't an enjoyable read - let's just get that right out of the way. The subject matter, a mother's grief, is hard to bear, and the mother wallows for a LARGE part of the book. But it's so REAL you can't really look away. I tried to put this book down for good several times, and just had to keep finding out how it all turned out!
I couldn't for the life of me figure out how she was going to end this story, and I was truly impressed with how she ended up doing it. I didn't see it coming, and it wasn't cornbally, cheesy, or overdone.
I DON'T, however, think that Morley is the next Kingsolver, as is alluded to on the jacket cover. I think the only reaosn someone would think of Kingsolver is because part of the book takes place on the African continent and the main character is married to a minister. I believe that there the comparison ends. Morley doesn't prove having the magical ability to create the most beautiful sentences as does Kingsolver, and although it was an addicting book, it was not nearly as compulsively readable as Kingsolver tends to be.
Interesting first novel, though. She'll be one to keep an eye on..
A birthday/anniversary gift from my hubby, who is probably the only person who takes a chance and buys books for me. (I LOVE seeing what he thinks I would enjoy and he does a miraculously good job of it.)
I didn't think I'd like this as it centers around the accidental death of a 3 year old child and how a mother fights and recovers from the grief, though losing her marriage. The writing, however, was STELLAR...beautiful, stunning, and heart-breaking at times. The plains of South Africa juxtaposed with the mountains of Hawaii make for a beautiful setting as well.
Morley's debut novel beautifully captures the darkness of grief and the psychological weight of our past. A pastor's wife and mother, life as Abbe knows comes to an abrupt end when her three-year-old daughter is hit by a car and dies. Abbe faces heart-wrenching grief, the dissolution of her already strained marriage, and a crisis of faith. She'll have to return to South Africa and face her past in order to begin healing from her loss. The novel is insightful and authentic in a way that is sometimes painful. South Africa as a setting added a fascinating and rich texture to the story.
Wordy, overly introspective first-person account, made even more off-putting by the frequent use of words and phrases from other languages, which weren't discernible via context. The characters were countless and none developed enough to make me remember them or care what happened with them. The preachy ending was the coup de grace of this very dissatisfying story.
An elegant, eloquent study of grief under a microscope. Beautiful language, wonderfully written, with some of those "lightbulb" uses of language that sound exactly right. While the resolution felt a little unlikely and contrived to neatly package things up, the journey that Abbe makes is touching and believable.
What an absolutely remarkable DEBUT novel, set against the Liturgical backdrop of Lent, Holy Week, Easter, Resurrection and Ascension. Abbe and Greg Deighton have lost their only daughter, Cleo, when she chases a kite into the street -- right into the path of an oncoming car which cannot stop in time.
On Good Friday, Abbe obsesses about the darkness of the tomb; Easter comes and she longs for resurrection. Gregory is a minister, better equipped to weather this grief than Abbe, who remains at home surrounded by memories. The beauty of Hawaii is no help. Friends are no help. Nothing helps. Living without Cleo is a lifetime of Lents, back to back.
Greg is sent to another church, and leaves for the mainland. He doesn't just move; he has gone away. He has left. For good. And, still, Abbe mourns.
A thought-provoking story about love and grief and hate and loss and doubt and death and resurrection and forgiveness.
I have now read three novels by this extremely talented woman, and I urge you to pick up one of them at your earliest convenience.
Whilst this book was not perfect, it had so much depth I loved it. I can imagine a friend sitting down and telling me her life story, just like this. I liked that it didn't try to make too much of a political statement about South Africa, but rather reflected the reality and keeping everyone very real.
I listened to the audiobook and the narration was terrible. The white SA accent was laughable. If I wasn't so caught up in the story, I would have given up. Do not try accents unless you actually know what people sound like. Luckily the attempts diminished and became a lot less on later in the book.
I learned of Isla Morley through a Novel Network's Adventures by the Book zoom gathering. The book she talked about was not available on Libby at the time so I decided to try this one. It's a very tragic and angry book about blame and forgiveness, faith and fate with an almost redeeming ending. Some parts I listened to contained an extremely abusive husband screaming so loud I had to turn the volume down. Maybe if I had just read the book I would have liked it more.
This book really grabbed me and I couldn't put it down. My husband is convinced that my chosen genre/topic is family tragedy. He may be right; I certainly seem drawn to them. However, this book was about a pastor's wife and how she dealt with a personal tragedy in the context of the church and her relationship with her husband. It was beautifully written!
Painfully honest deep dive into grief. Interesting coupling of settings in Hawaii suburbs and South Africa in the throes of violence between black locals and white settlers post apartheid. And... how a marriage tries to cope with loss.
I didn’t have high hopes for this book based on the Goodreads rating. The main character Elizabeth was frustrating throughout the book. I was also a little confused during the book because it jumped all over the place. Overall, better than I expected, just difficult to follow.
It is hard for me to write this book because it is so depressing. It is especially difficult right now with my auntie in hospice. This book is so very sad.
Come Sunday, Isla Morley Nominated for the Commonwealth Prize of Australia
Come Sunday is a story that explores the tragic devastation of a couple after their small child is accidentally killed. A seemingly matched pair, the two choose alternating paths to recover from their daughter Cleo's death. No one is free from the tragic ripples that spread out in the days after the accident.
First, the novel alternates by showing the coping mechanisms of the husband Greg, a pastor in a small church, who dives into his work to find meaning in Cleo's death. At the same time, Cleo's mother Abbe handles her grief in a more withdrawn way: her crisis in faith is mixed with the crisis in friendship, and the blame she needs to bestow in order to cope. Strangely, the events lead her to recollect the abuse she and her brother had suffered in their childhood home in South Africa...memories she had long avoided. The death becomes the watershed of all the emotions she held in check for so many years, and creates a turning point for her. At times, her mourning is complicated between grief for her daughter and for herself.
The different rituals and superstition that were present in South Africa, especially in view of bad omens, are at times fascinating. And yet they remain incapable of either preventing harm or in helping someone cope. In many cases, what they consider a bad omen is simply hindsight trying to find a meaning for the inexplicable.
I really wanted to say I liked this story...it was complex and relevant, after all. My only complaint was in the character of Abbe...the main character of the novel. Her behavior both before and after Cleo's death didn't seem realistic. At times she's described as falling apart, but her actions seem more purposeful than someone who is insane with grief. Her tone in different conversations appears off somehow, almost emotionless, and there's no other details that would reveal her emotionless state is part of the grief process. The husband Greg seemed too accepting of the loss. The disintegration of their marriage is easy to see coming. The most fascinating character to me was of Cleo's uncle, Rhiann, who felt more emotionally real. All said, it's a fascinating glimpse at both Hawaii and South Africa, and the complex course that emotional recovery takes.
What happens to a couple when their only child dies tragically? Can they hold it together or will it all fall apart? As a mother, how do you know when to move forward with your life without betraying the memory of your child?
In Come Sunday by Isla Morley, Greg and Abbe are shattered when the center of their lives, their daughter Chloe, dies after being hit by a car. Abbe’s inability to forgive the driver, or her best friends who were watching Chloe ultimately leads to cracks in her marriage and an internal crumbling of herself. When everything in her life seems to have finally gone as low as she can take it, there is nothing to do but return to her home in Africa and find answers to the questions from her spotty childhood. In this journey, will she be able to recover her own life and move forward?
For the majority of this book I struggled with characters who felt almost too real. Too selfish. At times, I wanted to shake Abbe and remind her that she wasn’t the only person who’d lost her daughter. However, as a mother, who is to say I wouldn’t just crumble the way Abbe did? It is easy for someone who isn’t in a situation to say “Forgive” and Abbe was a very human character. She didn’t take the good way or the easy way and she didn’t do what anyone would expect her character to do. It made her incredibly unlikable. It’s what made her dynamic. I still got tired of her whining. I wanted her to move forward. I wanted growth. I wanted it a lot faster than I got it.
Overall, the last 75 pages of the book were the most compelling of the entire novel. Abbe’s trip back to Africa was perhaps the meat and potatoes of the book and I wish I’d had more of this than her time in Hawaii. What she finds there, about her mother, her family and about herself was page-turning. It took me over a month to finish this book. The last 75 pages were easily read in one sitting. If you can get through the first part of the book, and it’s not easy to do so because there is a lot of cringing through it, this is a book well worth reading. It’s not easy to read about death, grief and mourning. It’s not easy when a protagonist refuses to forgive a character that deserves it and that character refuses to forgive himself. It’s not easy when side characters are worthy of novels themselves.
But it was worth at least one read for the ending alone.
There is a scene in one of DH Lawrence’s short stories of four young people sitting around a fire drinking smoked coffee and eating toasted bacon in a gingerly cautious healing truce. It’s a tale which doesn’t moralise or downplay the human experience but offers insights through authentic descriptions and I was reminded of this when reading “Come Sunday”.
The death of a young child is a devastating topic and a reality which many readers will have difficulty facing as there isn’t much space in our fast paced world for the full emotional impact of devastation and tragic loss. Tears, cards, prayers, visits, meals dropped off, moving on….
In this tale the child’s father is able to find comfort in his spiritual community in a way that Abbe, the mother, cannot. For her the road to healing is much longer and rougher, alienating her along the way from those closest to her by her depression, anger, blame, paralysis & apparent self-absorption.
Her story is narrated, however, with the utmost gentleness, compassion, patience and skill as we journey with Abbe not only through her complex emotional landscape but also in time (unravelling mysteries from her past) and geographically to the Cape in South Africa, the place of her childhood farm in Paarl. Those who know the area will recognise the authenticity of the setting – from Cape Dutch architecture and art stores to azaleas and gravel lining the outskirts of the town.
Set against a backdrop of Christian metaphor, it’s not a tale sugar-coated with joyful platitudes and Easter bunnies but a hard-won series of Lazarus-experiences which don’t sidestep harsh realities like childhood death, township life and Aids orphans. For those wanting to more fully explore the Lenten experience in this liturgical period leading up to Easter and Ascension Day I give it 5 stars.
This novel is about shattering grief. The death of a child is hard to bear even thinking about but this is exactly what happens in the first few pages of the book. We are introduced to Chloe as a bright happy little girl, and the reader cannot help but be shocked when she runs into the street and is hit by a car. I have to compare this with Stewart O'Nan's book Songs for the missing as I read them both in the same month and both explore how as parents, friends and families deal with the loss of a child...a thing that every parent dreads.
The main character in this book is Abbe, the child's mother who becomes stuck in the anger phase of the grieving process and is unable to forgive the family who was supposed to be looking after Chloe, the driver of the car...and even her husband who turns to his church to find solace. The child's father is a pastor and he is supported by the congregation, but Abbe refuses any comfort that is offered to her. It is hard to like this character, but the author makes us feel her pain and recognise why she cannot escape it.
The family are living in Honolulu at the time of the accident but the location moves to South Africa when Abbe leaves her husband and returns to the place of her birth. Her childhood was a very difficult one as her father was abusive to both her and her mother. As she meets with old friends and relatives, and particularly with Beauty who worked for and became close to her mother, she learns the shocking truth about the death of her parents.
This is a hard book to read if you are a person who becomes emotionally involved in books...but well worth the effort.
This is a debut novel. The story was very sad. Greg is a minister and his wife Abbe, an unconvincing minister's wife, to be sure, have a 3 yr. old daughter Cleo who was hit by a car and killed. Not only does Abbe blame her friend who was in her care at the time of the accident, but she "quits" her marriage and isn't there for her husband who is also in pain. The little girl ran out in the street to chase a balloon she saw and ran in front of an oncoming car. For crying out loud, how can that be anybody's fault? And she is absolutely hateful to the driver of the car, an old man, who tries to make ammends. I got tired of the selfishness of Abbe...it had to be all about her, forget about anybody else and whatever they were feeling. In that sense, the book was very well written because it evoked all this feeling in me, as a reader. She grew up in a home where her father was an absolute tyrant to her mother and was exposed to all of that. She grew up in Africa so there is some description of the beauty of the land to be enjoyed but the rest of the book was painful to read and my shoulders were hunched with stress throughout the book. I truly hope the author exorcised whatever demons were at bay when she wrote this book because it was excruciating to read about who the next victim of Abbe's would surface on the pages. I wish she had used the husband being a pastor as a way to show how forgiveness is a gift from God.
Grief. Unless you are afflicted with a condition that renders you emotionless (or you’ve had your emotions surgically removed) you’ll likely experience grief at some point in your life, probably already have. How do we deal with grief? In Isla Morley’s Come Sunday we bear witness to one characters struggle with the loss of a child and her journey to break free from the past.
Abbe Deighton lives in Hawaii with her husband Greg, a pastor of a small church, and their three-year-old daughter Cleo. Though Abbe was born and raised in South Africa, she’s made a home for herself on the Island.
Tragically, Cleo is struck by a car and killed. Abbe and Greg deal with their loss in very different ways. Greg pours himself into the church. Abbe turns inward. In so doing, she faces her troubled childhood as she works through her grief.
We follow Abbe for a year, from her final day with her daughter to learning to live again. Her grief is laid bare like a gaping wound. The progression of healing is slow and weighs heavy on the character and readers. It’s a beautiful book.
Come Sunday wasn’t read in one sitting. I had to take breaks, sometimes of several days. It is permeated with sorrow and I had to pull myself away from it emotionally. That may not be true for you. I had the same problem with The Lovely Bones but a good friend read that one in an afternoon.
I recommend Come Sunday by Isla Morley but suggest you keep in mind it isn’t a light read.
Abbe grew up in South Africa in the midst of Apartheid but chose to make Honolulu her home with her pastor husband, Greg, and her young daughter, Chloe. One evening she goes out to the movies with Greg, leaving Chloe with a good friend who loves her daughter just as much as she. On returning, they discover the worst has happened and their daughter is dead.
There are two central plots in Come Sunday, the present day in which Abbe falls apart after the accident, and the story of her past in Africa. I really struggled through Abbe wallowing in her grief. Whilst it's certainly realistic that depression can bring life to a standstill and make even everyday tasks difficult, it doesn't make for a gripping read. I guiltily couldn't empathise with Abbe until near the end and I felt sorry for her long-suffering husband.
More enjoyable was the story of Abbe's past in South Africa, the political climate of the time and the disintegration of her family. The structure seemed a bit dislocated in places with little link between past and present. Fortunately the two did come together in the end but it needed more perseverance than I would normally give a book.
You might be thinking, well at least the locations are spectacular. There was very little description of the landscapes of Hawaii and South Africa. The current day story could have been set in any western town, be it rather middle class.