I was lent this book by a friend, and didn't really know what to expect, as I had no idea what their reading preferences would be like. I would class this novel as 'advanced chick-lit', basically as it was an easy read that I finished in a couple of days, but it did have a good plot and an enjoyable style, which I often find is lacking in the more traditionally written books from the genre.
It follows the stories of three females- Karen, a middle aged housewife whose husband dies suddenly, leaving her alone after twenty years with two small children, her best friend Anna, who is living with an alcoholic boyfriend, and Lou, a gay social worker who witnesses the death of Karen's husband, who feels trapped by her sexuality. Throughout the book, the three characters interact, until the plots intermingle.
The first reason why I enjoyed this book was because in parts, the use of language was lovely, and created highly visual images that gave a clear idea of what the author intended the reader to 'see':
'It is a crazed muddle of emotions: there is the feeling she can't shake, that she was responsible, of guilt turning in on itself, impossible to unravel. There is the sense of loss whose force she fears she has yet to feel fully- a gigantic, overwhelming sense of sorrow and gloom. Then, in the very centre of the snarl-up, there's the bright red of searing pain, excruciating, burning, unrelenting, as if her skull has been sawn off and acid is being poured directly inside, onto the nerves of her grey matter.'
Another reason why I liked this book, and felt like it was more than 'chick-lit' was because of the emotions behind the characters. Death, in any form, is obviously a difficult subject to approach, but it is handled with such poise in 'One Moment, One Morning' that you really empathise with Karen, as she begins to become nostalgic about practically everything associated with Simon, her late husband:
'There is the chipped cast-iron casserole Phyllis passed to her a few years ago, saying Karen would have more use for it than she did, now she had children. There are eclectic mugs from a range of sources: promotional ones Simon has brought back from work, a couple of finely shaped porcelain ones that were a gift from Anna, a jokey one from Alan about hirsute men being better lovers.'
I wouldn't recommend this as a holiday read, as it was quite depressing in parts, but for something to read at home before bed, this is perfect, as it doesn't require much brain power, yet isn't boring or predictable, as would be expected of such a light read.
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