The Mystic
Jack Robbins is a no-good drunk. One night in 1957, on the outskirts of Boston, he is dead drunk on the floor of a bar, and his wife has to drag him home. But she doesn’t know how to drive. A high school dropout, Beth has been controlled and abused by Jack during their three-year marriage. On the way home, their truck hits a little girl and speeds away. But who was driving? Who is responsible?
The answer comes eventually, but due to a severe lack of editing, this reader no longer cared. The writing is satisfactory; however, the tense shifts, name changes, mischaracterizations, and mis-ordered events made this a book to skip. The character’s interior monologue shifts halfway through, going from a high school dropout who is good at drawing to a suddenly educated and philosophical color-adept artist. The best part of the novel is the portrayal of the older sisters who live next door to Beth and Jack, and even they become tiresome and repetitive in the end. The novel takes place over the course of one month, in which she goes from comfort to pennilessness. There are a few historical issues, but minor enough that had the novel been better put together, I wouldn’t have minded.
This author’s work is decent, and I would read her books in the future, if they receive better editing.
