When I saw The Wednesday Sisters on the “new in paperback” table at Barnes and Noble, I had to read the back cover. I did so, and took it home, along with about twelve other books.
In my defense – not that one needs to DEFEND book buying – I had spent almost an entire week writing about things like life insurance leads and how to save money on car insurance, and stuff like that, so I needed a lot of summer reading material.
I confess, I was hoping The Wednesday Sisters would be similar to The Jane Austen Book Club, but it was not, though both share, at their core, a story about close friendships among women.
Instead, Clayton’s book, which takes place in the late 1960s and early 1970s is a gentle story of personal growth and deep bonding, all tied in with the desire to write and publish ones own fiction – a desire I completely empathize with, since I am attempting the same.
The different women in the story were all well-drawn, with distinct voices, and while there was no snark, there were moments of real humor. Likewise, when one of the women begins dealing with breast cancer, there were moments of poignancy that would be difficult to match.
Was The Wednesday Sisters what I was expecting? No. Would I recommend it anyway? YES!