Jane’s always found it easy to believe in God, but when she loses everything overnight she has to learn what’s really important.
I decided to play cliche today, and brought this book with me to the spa while I got my toesies ready for an upcoming weekend on Cape Cod. It was a perfect experience–with one exception. I blew through the book in record time (even more me), and now I won’t be reading any of it on the beach. Quelle horreur!
This is chick lit retelling of the book of Job, the darkest of all the Bible’s 66 books. Jane’s woes might be a little less epic than Job’s, in that no children die, but she does get a wicked case of facial impetigo and has her apartment flooded thanks to a misplaced statue of Elvis. Dayton and Vanderbilt’s writing is top notch, and they have a knack for peppering their prose with the little details that make the story sing.
While The Book of Jane is technically Christian chick lit, it doesn’t wear its theology on its sleeve and refrains from the kind of preachiness that can plague the genre. Jane’s a relatable heroine who I really connected with.
In the interest of full disclosure, Anne’s husband made strawberry soup for my husband and me last week, and May pops up on my GChat from time to time. If I hadn’t liked the book, I wouldn’t have blogged about it, because I won’t do that to a friend (not even anonymously using my superpower). I’m glad I liked it & heartily recommend it.