Following the death of their mother from a botched backwoods abortion, the McAlister daughters have to cope with the ripple effect of this tragedy as they come of age in 1950s Mississippi and then grow up to face their own impossible choices—an unforgettable, beautiful novel that is threaded throughout with the stories of mothers and daughters in pre-Roe versus Wade America.
Life heads down back … heads down back alleys, takes sharp left turns. Then, one fine day it jumps the track and crashes.”
In the fall of 1957, Olivia McAlister is living in Opelika, Mississippi, caring for her two girls, June and Grace, and her husband, Holly. She dreams of living a much larger life–seeing the world and returning to her wartime job at a landing boat factory in New Orleans. As she watches over the birds in her yard, Olivia feels like an “accidental”—a migratory bird blown off course.
When Olivia becomes pregnant again, she makes a fateful decision, compelling Grace, June, and Holly to cope in different ways. While their father digs up the backyard to build a bomb shelter, desperate to protect his family, Olivia’s spinster sister tries to take them all under her wing. But the impact of Olivia’s decision reverberates throughout Grace’s and June’s lives. Grace, caught up in an unconventional love affair, becomes one of the “girls who went away” to have a baby in secret. June, guilt-ridden for her part in exposing Grace’s pregnancy, eventually makes an unhappy marriage. Meanwhile Ed Mae Johnson, an African-American care worker in a New Orleans orphanage, is drastically impacted by Grace’s choices.
As the years go by, their lives intersect in ways that reflect the unpredictable nature of bird flight that lands in accidental locations—and the consolations of imperfect return.
Filled with tragedy, humor, joy, and the indomitable strength of women facing the constricted spaces of the 1950s and 60s, The Accidentals is a poignant, timely novel that reminds us of the hope and consolation that can be found in unexpected landings.
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Minrose Gwin tenderly recounts the lives of two sisters shattered by the shocking loss of their mother. The unique voices of outsiders enrich their story, and Gwin pulls together the threads of all characters’ lives into an elegant and surprising tapestry.
This is a beautifully written novel about a family in the South from the 1950s to present day. It’s full of love, betrayal, redemption and forgiveness within this family over the years. It is about history as disparate as the space race, the atomic bomb, women’s reproductive rights, civil rights, women’s rights and animal cruelty … sounds like a lot of ground to cover but it is all fits well into the story lines. This is my first book by this author but because of the beautiful writing in this book, I intend to check out some of her earlier books.
This is a beautiful well written novel with two very strong female characters who are terribly flawed by what happened to their mother but try to live their lives as normally as possible during time periods that didn’t give women much freedom in their lives about how to live their lives to its full potential.
Thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book to read and review. All opinions are my own.
A timely and thought provoking book. The author weaves a great story with interesting plot twists.
Tragic beginning with interesting story line and authentic characters makes this an easy read due to her beautiful choice of language to describe nature of all kinds. It is unpredictable at every turn and sometimes alarming in detail, but this probably happens more than we will ever know. The time line in the last half of the 20th Century is very familiar to this reader. Almost gave it a 5.
Favorite Quotes:
My sister and I don’t often go in the room where Dad sleeps. Our mother’s blood made a dark lake on the wood floor by the bed… We open our mother’s drawers and touch her things, drawing them to our faces, then lift up a corner of the rug to look at the stain. It is a secret thing we do together and don’t talk about afterward.
We kept our distance from our aunt’s person. Frances had what June and I referred to as the Lady Schoolteacher Smell, a cross between dust and mold, chalk and cloves, face powder and powdered milk. The smell wasn’t unpleasant exactly, but being around her called to mind antique shops and stuffed animals that had once been alive.
Baby Girl, she was the be-all end-all of ugly. Looked like some kind of evil slapped that child upside the head, said, There, take that, be a big old ugly catfish. Hooked and brought up hard. All she needed was a set of whiskers and a tail.
Where I come from, people say you’re expecting, as if it’s a package coming in the mail or the plumber. I shudder when I think of telling my poor father I’m expecting. What will he say? What are the odds? How many females in one family can get knocked up? We’re obviously fertile as turtles and reproductively challenged; in my case, this new thing called the pill being nearly impossible to come by if you’re a nice unmarried girl in Tennessee.
My mother had taught me to always say ma’am to white women, but to always cross my fingers when I said it. Much as I hated myself for doing it, every now and then a ma’am would pop out of my mouth like a sneeze you can’t hold back.
My Review:
This was a slowly building, beautifully nuanced, and thoughtfully written book, full of perceptive observations, colorful descriptions, and oddly compelling characters. Written from multiple points of view (which I greatly enjoyed) and covering a lifetime of unexpected complexities and daunting experiences for each character, the engaging storylines were expertly textured though not always comfortable as each character faced numerous hardships and unique challenges. It was as if this family was cursed!
Ms. Gwin’s writing was highly descriptive as well as evocative, emotive, and poignant. She squeezed my heart but she also pulled more than a few smirks and barked chuckles for balance. It was not an easy or pleasant era to live through for women and minorities; I remember many of the events and trends mentioned all too well and not at all fondly. It was more than a bit eye-opening and a pleasant relief to realize how far we’ve advanced from those stilted limitations, and constricting and ignorant social mores of the time. There are still vast areas in need of improvement, which I am still hoping to see before my final dirt nap.