Novel doesn't break new ground



Though the book doesn't compare to Weiner's other novels, it's still entertaining.
By CAROLE GOLDBERG
HARTFORD COURANT
"Little Earthquakes," by Jennifer Weiner (Atria, $25)
Jennifer Weiner is a born storyteller, no question about it.
She hit the big time in 2001 with her first novel, the laugh-out-loud funny "Good in Bed," now being developed as a series for HBO.
She did it again with her second, "In Her Shoes," which started out as another comic novel but did a welcome 180-degree turn into a sensitively told tale of two sisters that offered genuine emotional heft. It's going to be a movie this fall with Cameron Diaz, Shirley MacLaine and Toni Collette.
But now, with her third book, "Little Earthquakes," Weiner seems to have contracted a case of World War II Movie Syndrome -- you know, the films that feature a squad representing various backgrounds who must band together to fight adversity.
Cast of characters
The book is about four women facing the trial of becoming a mother, while dealing with their own mothers (and one doozy of a mother-in-law).
There is Becky, smart-mouthed, overly zaftig and not happy about it. (This is Weiner's signature character, and she does it well, but perhaps it's time to move on.) Becky co-owns a restaurant in Philadelphia and is married to sweet Andrew, a budding doctor who can't seem to cut the umbilical cord tethering him to Mimi the monster mother-in-law. And then there's that thing he has about the furry bath mat ....
There is Ayinde, the gorgeous daughter of a white actor and a gorgeous black model-actress. She's a former TV anchor married to Richard, a gorgeous NBA star, and living in a gorgeous -- yes, there is a wealth of gorgeousness in Ayinde's life -- but a lot of grief as well. Seems that Richard is capable of scoring in more ways than one.
There is Kelly, the overstressed event planner whose life is laid out to the minute on spreadsheets. She's trying to overcoming painful memories of a childhood in a poor Catholic family where she mothered her siblings while her mom dove into cans of Tab spiked with bourbon. When Kelly's formerly successful hubby morphs into a jobless couch potato who can't muster the energy to change their baby's diaper or pick up his shorts, her life gets even more frantic.
These three meet at a yoga class for moms-to-be.
And then there is Lia, the most sensitively drawn of the four, and the one with real tragedy in her life. Lia was a daddy's girl who never got along with her prim, schoolmarm mother and fled to become an actress in Hollywood. There she meets Sam, an actor who is handsome and tender-hearted, and they have a son, Caleb, a fussy baby who turns Lia's life into a sleep-deprived endurance contest. Then something truly terrible happens. Soon Lia is back in Pennsylvania, all but stalking new moms in the park. She is worth a book of her own.
And of course, there are the babies -- Becky's Ava, Ayinde's Julian and Kelly's Oliver -- all little darlings with darling, kinda British-y names.
Motherhood
The book leads the women through a year of pregnancy, childbirth and early motherhood. There are sharp depictions of how even the best childbirth-class students find themselves steamrolled by labor pains and screaming for that epidural, and then are thoroughly flummoxed by the nonstop cycle of nursing, care-taking, crying and cleaning.
The story also gives them the challenge of coming to terms with their own all-too-human mothers. Becky's mom is the kind who dusts and rearranges her daughter's spice jars, and Mimi is portrayed as a needy, imperious witch. Kelly's mother dove into those spiked Tabs because she was overwhelmed, and Lia's made some hard choices that it takes her daughter years to understand. Ayinde's mother, Lolo, is as selfish as she is beautiful.
By the time the year is over, lessons have been learned, crises have been averted and connections have been strengthened, perhaps a little too neatly. "Little Earthquakes" proves that even minor Weiner will draw you in and keep you entertained. But this time, the earth doesn't move.