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Summary
Summary
Willow is ten years old and obsessed with the fear that her mother will die. Her mother, Polly, is a cantankerous, take-no-prisoners Southern woman with a sharp tongue who lives to shoot varmints, and drink margaritas; and she sticks out like a sore thumb among the young mothers of their small Texas town. She was in her late 50s when Willow was born, has already had two children who are grown and gone, leaving Willow hungry for clues about the family life that preceded her. A bittersweet novel about the grip of love in a truly quirky family, featuring two unforgettable characters.
Author Notes
Kathy Hepinstall grew up in Spring, Texas, near the Louisiana border. Polly is based, in part, on Kathy's own mother, who has as wicked a tongue as her fictional counterpart. Kathy now lives in Portland, Oregon, and Santa Barbara, California.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Hepinstall's Southern coming-of-age novel, about a girl who worries that her 68-year-old, Virginia Slims-smoking mother will die from cancer, could easily have been a TLC reality series caricature, with Polly Havens a hybrid of Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies and Shirley MacLaine's Ouiser Boudreaux in Steel Magnolias. Instead, it's full of laughter and warmth and sadness. The Walgreens-working widow who must not suffer fools at all is modeled on the author's mother, a Louisiana native. Is Polly-who tries to kill all the varmints destroying her garden, yet painstakingly nurses an orphaned squirrel she names Elmer-a bigger handful than her 10-year-old daughter Willow, who tells whoppers about her mother so she remains larger than life, too big for "the Bear" (aka cancer) to take down? The girl, as clever and smart-mouthed as her mother, narrates through age 16 and never loses pitch. Polly stays true to her cantankerous self, refusing to divulge her secrets to her daughter, and Phoenix Calhoun, her adult son's high school friend, acts the righteous dude as he watches over the two women. This is a warm and fresh tale, made so by characters as varied as the evil Montessori-schooled twins next door, Willow's steadfast friend Dalton, and a Bible-thumping faith healer. (Mar.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Most kids go through a stage where they're irrationally concerned about death, but 10-year-old Willow knows her concern isn't a passing phase. Willow's mother, Polly, is quite a bit older than the other moms in the neighborhood, and she's never too far from a Virginia Slim or a stiff drink. Polly even has a morbid nickname for the cancer that runs in her family, the Bear. Knowing that the Bear could strike at any time, Willow makes it her mission to find out as much as she can about her mother's early life. Polly's intense privacy and unorthodox parenting methods don't make anything easy, but Willow uncovers a set of secrets that could change both of their lives forever. Hepinstall has created a mother-daughter duo that will delight readers looking for something new after finishing the Gilmore Girls reboot, and fans of Mary Kay Andrews and Haven Kimmel will adore the colorful supporting characters and distinctly southern voice. The Book of Polly is steeped in southern sweetness tempered by the harsh realities of adolescence, resulting in a well-rounded and vibrant novel.--Turza, Stephanie Copyright 2017 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
In this novel set in small-town Texas, Willow has always been fixated with the health of her elderly mother, who gave birth to her at age 57, following the death of Willow's father. Though in her senior years, Polly is a spirited Southerner who enjoys a good margarita in addition to quarreling with her neighbors. Over the course of the story, narrator Willow matures from a young child who tells lies about her mother to a moody teenager with a boyfriend and a penchant for spying. However, Polly is the true star of the show, and much of the narrative is driven by Willow's attempts to unearth secrets from her mother's past, such as why Polly refuses to return to her hometown of Bethel, LA. The book cover, which features a blurry image of an adult woman holding a gardening tool, likely won't entice teens, so this title will require hand selling. But those with older parents may share some of Willow's thoughts and concerns and will enjoy this humorous, poignant tale of family and loss. -VERDICT For those who appreciate quirky characters, especially fans of Grandma Dowdel in Richard Peck's A Long Way from Chicago.--Carrie Shaurette, Dwight-Englewood School, -Englewood, NJ © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Library Journal Review
Willow, ten years old, is convinced her mother is about to die. Polly gave birth to Willow at age 57 shortly after becoming widowed, so she is the oldest and most embarrassing mother in town. Willow wants to save her mother from herself. It's no easy task when irreverent, impulsive, margarita-drinking Polly lives life on her own terms, including shooting varmints, feuding with the neighbors, and lighting fires. As Willow, curious and wily in her own right, becomes a teenager, she longs to understand and outwit her mother, but comes face-to-face with the tangled beauty of strong yet imperfect love. Using pleasantly biting language, Hepinstall (Blue Asylum) introduces a mildly dysfunctional family in Texas. With a quirky tone that is sure to garner a guffaw or two, she explores the complex bonds of family as serious life issues from the past and present intrude. VERDICT Replete with sparkling vitality and endearing warmth, this novel is for those who enjoy a spirited helping of Southern sass in their stories. For fans of Rebecca Wells's Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.-Gloria Drake, Oswego P.L. Dist., IL © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter One What tormented me most, even more than Polly's secrets, were her cigarettes. I'd seen the black lungs in ads, and pictured Polly's lungs, already old, already threadbare, quivering in the smoky cloud of each puff like doomed soldiers in the trench of her chest. The cafeteria lady at my school loved Salem Lights. I'd see her outside in her smock, smoking up a storm. Then she got sick and left for a while. She came back thin and pale, hair net pulled over a bald head as she served us spaghetti. Then one day she disappeared for good. They announced her death over the intercom, and everyone got free onion rings. "A shame about the poor lady," Polly remarked. "You never know when the Bear might strike." Polly never used the word cancer. It was as if invoking it would be an invitation for it to slide under our door and slink inside her cigarettes. So she said Bear. People had lung Bear, stomach Bear, skin Bear, or worst of all (and she said this in a whisper) hinder Bear--or, colon cancer. "My uncle had the hinder Bear," she said delicately. "He shrank down to ninety pounds, poor fellow. But they cut it out of him and he was okay for a few years, 'til he had a heart attack while leaning over a rain barrel and drowned." When I was eight years old, my third-grade teacher told us about the Great American Smokeout. If smokers could just quit for one day, the theory went, maybe they could quit forever. I stared in fascination at the charts showing circulation improving, lung function increasing, heart rate dropping like a sparrow from the sky. The morning ofthe Great American Smokeout, an event that held zero interest for Polly, I hid her last packet of Virginia Slims. She discovered that fact just before the bus came. Polly had worked as a cashier at Walgreens ever since my father died. She confronted me before school in her Walgreens smock, her name tag dangling from a cord she worearound her neck. "Willow," she said. "Come here." "Yes?" My hair was drawn into two ponytails. I had my prized lunch box and was ready to go. "Where are mycigarettes?" "I don't know." Her eyebrow arched. "Don't you lie,Willow." I looked at her defiantly. "It's the Great American Smokeout." "So? Some damn fool who doesn't even smoke made up a holiday? What if it was National Pee Your Pants day? Should I pee my pants, you think?" "I have to go toschool." I opened the front door, letting in a fall breeze and the murmurs of the kids at the bus stop. "You're not going anywhere," Polly said. "But, Mom, I have perfect attendance!" "Well that's your problem and you can fix it in two shakes of a rat's tail if you just tell me where you hid my cigarettes." I turned around, but left the door open. We stared at each other. My lunch box dangled from my hand. A line had appeared in her skin between her eyebrows, like a twitching nerve rising to the surface. I could hear the bus rumbling down the block, coming closer. The gauntlet had been thrown. I hated Polly at that moment, but not enough to capitulate. It was National Smokeout Day and I was going to save a fraction of her life. "The Bear is going to come for you," I told her. "Just like he came for the lunch lady. Is that what you want?" We held each other's gaze as the bus groaned to a stop and I heard the creak of the doors opening. Then with a hush, they closed. The bus eased away and there was silence. "You know, in my day, girls who missed school grew up to be tramps. Got pregnant early," Polly remarked. "You are so mean," I said. "No!" she answered. "You are mean. Forcing your poor old mother to drive to the store and restock." "I'm trying to keep you from dying!" I shouted, my voice full of righteous indignation. The line between her eyes was back. "That's God's way!" she shot back. "The parents are supposed to die before the child and everyone starts bitching soon as it happens. Now tell me where you hid my damn cigarettes!" I stood perfectly still, stone faced, lest my body or expression give away when Polly was getting warm. I heard her back in my bedroom, swearing, jerking opening drawers. Next the kitchen, then the den. The cushions from the couch hit the floor. The magazine stand rattled. The wooden blinds thwacked against the window. I was going to lose. This was nothing; it was only a desperate gesture of love and rage. It would not stop Polly, in the long run, from smoking or from getting older or from dying, but suddenly it meant the world to me. I wanted perfect attendance,but more than that, I wanted someone above me in the chain of life. I didn't want to be alone, a single blue egg in a crumbling nest. "Damn it," Polly mumbled. "Damn it, damn it, damn it. You damn kid." Finally she slumped down at the out-of-tune piano in the hallway. I glanced over at her and she stared back at me. Something in my posture or expression must have tipped her off because her eyes squinted and took on a hooded look and then she turned from me, gazing at the piano. She struck the middle C and it clanged in its off-tune fashion. I held my breath. She struck D. My heart began to sink. E, F . . . G was a muffled thud. She perked up, struck it again. "No, Mom," I said pleadingly, but it was too late. She jumped up and propped her knees on the bench so she could open the lid of the piano and peer inside at the keys. "AH HA!" she shrieked. She stuck her hand in and retrieved a crumpled box of Virginia Slims, the one she'd opened the night before. She withdrew a bent cigarette and tried to straighten it, but gave up. "It'll do," she said triumphantly. She cast a glance at me, but something in my expression caused the glee to leave her face. The hand with the cigarette slowly fell to her hip. "Ah, well, you tried, don't feel so bad," she consoled me. "I won't smoke this in front of you, okay? You are a good kid. Now come on, let me drive you to school." Excerpted from The Book of Polly: A Novel by Kathy Hepinstall All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
