Sweet Forgiveness
“airy, romantic chick lit . . . but beware of trigger themes treated with . . . lightness.”
“If anyone should know about the consequences of covering up the truth, it’s me.”
Truth, lies, and how much a person can forgive lie at the core of Lori Nelson Spielman’s latest, Sweet Forgiveness.
Successful talk show host, Hannah Farr, is at the top of her game: dream job, comfortable inheritance, and the mayor of New Orleans for a boyfriend—what more could a girl want? Well . . . maybe forgiveness.
It turns out that she’s been less than truthful with the people in her life. She’s job hunting in another city in violation of her contract, she booked for her show the author of a popular book about forgiveness without having forgiven that woman for being a mean girl when they were in junior high, she’s having a flirtation with a vintner/chef in another city, and ambition has led her to allow the destruction of a lifelong friendship.
Maybe most importantly, she’s not forgiven her stepfather for sexually abusing her as a teen . . . or did he?
And this is the point at which Spielman’s novel hits deep water and falls apart.
Aside from that narrative detail, Sweet Forgiveness is a harmless, if rote, contemporary novel with romantic themes. All the familiar characters are here: the sassy best friend; a neglectful boyfriend with a snotty teenage daughter; a wise old friend; and an ex-lover for Hannah to confront, yearn for, and ultimately give up. If Hannah seems too naïve for a woman in a competitive industry, well . . . conflict. Unbelievable coincidences, such as the identity of her artistic flirtation, are acceptable in this genre, as well. All characters are beautiful, and it’s okay to consider oneself in love after a couple of encounters.
It’s the story’s treatment of child sexual abuse as vehicle for romantic advancement that is truly troubling. The initial revelation of abuse is almost an afterthought, clearly less important than Hannah forgiving her teen tormentor. It’s almost forgotten in the midst of career juggling and love-interest development, then Spielman backpedals to question whether the abuse occurred as she remembered. This, too, is acceptable; kids have porous memories.
Even at this point, that storyline seems shoehorned in between moony letters from a man she barely knows and agonizing about why her boyfriend doesn’t want to get married. Hannah flutters like a teenager over this for pages, occasionally remembering that she needs to forgive her stepfather.
When the truth is revealed, it’s almost an afterthought, and Hannah’s actions are inconceivable. One has to question whether someone suggested to Spielman that Hannah’s faulty memory might be offensive to those who actually had been abused, so she changed her planned storyline.
Regardless, the issues raised by the abuse and those hurt by it are not dealt with again. Everything is hunky dory and rom com when, after another of those unbelievable consequences, Hannah gets her man, he knows “the truth,” and she gets a new job. Characters barely mentioned early in the novel are introduced at the end of the book and everyone loves everyone.
Sweet Forgiveness might be the right fit for someone looking for a airy, romantic chick lit book, but beware of trigger themes treated with similar lightness.