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Summary
Summary
" A haunting story of betrayal and forgiveness" ( Kirkus ) about a woman who moves her family to Hawaii, only to find herself wrapped up in a dangerous friendship, from the celebrated author of We Could Be Beautiful.
When Nancy and her family arrive in Kona, Hawaii, they are desperate for a fresh start. Nancy's husband has cheated on her; they sleep in separate bedrooms and their twin sons have been acting out, setting off illegal fireworks. But Hawaii is paradise: they plant an orange tree in the yard; they share a bed once again and Nancy resolves to make a happy life for herself. She starts taking a yoga class and there she meets Ana, the charismatic teacher. Ana has short, black hair, a warm smile, and a hard-won wisdom that resonates deeply within Nancy. They are soon spending all their time together, sharing dinners, relaxing in Ana's hot tub, driving around Kona in the cute little car Ana helps Nancy buy. As Nancy grows closer and closer to Ana--skipping family dinners and leaving the twins to their own devices she feels a happiness and understanding unlike anything she's ever experienced, and she knows that she will do anything Ana asks of her. A mesmerizing story of friendship and manipulation set against the idyllic tropical world of the Big Island, The Goddesses is a stunning psychological novel by one of our most exciting young writers.
Author Notes
SWAN HUNTLEY is the author of We Could Be Beautiful . She earned her MFA from Columbia University and has received fellowships from the MacDowell Colony and the Ragdale Foundation. She lives in California and Hawaii.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Huntley's (We Could Be Beautiful) second novel is an engaging account of a middle-aged woman's journey for an identity apart from her family. Nancy Murphy moves from San Diego to Hawaii with her husband, Chuck, and their twin sons after he has an affair. In search of transformation, she tries a yoga class, where she connects with the magnetic teacher, Ana. The two begin a friendship, and Nancy is drawn in by Ana's stories of battling cancer and her rough past. She joins Ana in her quest to reverse her karma, and soon the two declare themselves goddesses in their quest for reinvention. Nancy's sons and husband feel neglected as she gets closer to Ana and allows her to move in with her family when her cancer returns. However, Ana's behavior grows suspicious, culminating in an ill-fated revenge plot that has fatal consequences. Though the characters lack substantial depth, readers will be pulled along by the quick-moving story. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Nancy and Chuck thought a change of scenery would do the whole family good. Their teenage boys had been getting in some scrapes at school, Chuck was drinking too much, and their marriage had been on the rocks ever since Chuck confessed to sleeping with his blonde assistant manager, Shelly. Nancy hated herself, Chuck, and Shelly, most of all, but the lush greenery and brilliant sunsets of Hawaii could solve everything. The boys and Chuck settle into their Kona routines quickly, but Nancy doesn't feel like she fits in until she attends an outdoor yoga class. The instructor, Ana, quickly becomes a friend, and Nancy's overjoyed to have someone on her side. Their friendship burns fast and bright, until Nancy feels unsure that this yoga-stretching, Rumi-quoting woman is everything she appears to be. An engrossing portrait of female friendship, Huntley's sophomore novel explores the risks and rewards of finding an unexpected soul mate. Huntley lets the idyllic Hawaiian setting wash over the reader, the volcanoes and starry skies the perfect background for Nancy's self-discovery. Readers who enjoyed Camille Pagán's Life and Other Near-Death Experiences (2015) and the works of Meg Wolitzer will savor the slow burn of this expressive and electric novel.--Turza, Stephanie Copyright 2017 Booklist
Kirkus Review
Huntley's (We Could Be Beautiful, 2016) second domestic thriller turns its attention to an all-consuming friendship between two middle-aged womenone of whom may not be exactly who she seems.Newly settled in Kona, Hawaiipart of a last-ditch attempt to save her flailing marriageNancy Murphy is desperate to reinvent herself into a new person, an exciting person whose husband did not cheat on her with his assistant manager from Costco. That means uncharacteristically dragging herself to yoga class. "I'd read online that yoga had transformed many peoples' lives, and I needed a transformation," Nancy says. She finds it through Ana, a woman so at peace she's a parody of a yoga teacher, and instantly falls under her charismatic spell. Free, unencumbered by children or marriage, spontaneous and spiritual and girlishly fun, Ana is everything Nancy isn't. And yet they recognize each other as kindred spiritsand soon the two fall into an easy intimacy, soaking in Ana's hot tub, browsing used bookstores, and eating at hippie health food buffets, circling the island distributing sandwiches to homeless people so they might "create space for better destinies." With Ana, Nancy has an escape from her old self. "I'm going to call you Nan from now on," Ana informs her. "Don't you see how the letters of our names match up perfectly? Nan and Ana! Yin and yang!" But as Nancy becomes ever more absorbed by their friendship, Ana becomes more demanding, dangerously threatening the very foundations of Nancy's world. As in her first book, Huntley is a keen social observer, empathetic and biting at once. And while the plot itself is somewhat predictablea familiar cloud hangs over the friendship from the startthe plot is hardly the point. Instead, it serves as necessary scaffolding, a vehicle for Huntley's gripping psychological portrait of a woman at a personal crossroads. A haunting story of betrayal and forgiveness that packs an unexpectedly emotional punch. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
The Murphys relocated from San Diego to Kona, HI, for a fresh start. Chuck had cheated on Nancy, and their twin boys have been acting out a bit beyond ordinary teenage pranks. At first Hawaii is paradise and life is good-almost romantic again. Then Nancy begins yoga lessons with the charismatic and fascinating Ana. The more Nancy sees of Ana, the more she is pulled away from Chuck and the twins. Ana insinuates herself into Nancy's life with a grasp that won't release. Can she break away from Ana? Can Nancy still save her marriage? Can you really ever go home again? Verdict Resonating well among the current rash of psychological thrillers, Huntley's (We Could Be Beautiful) compelling page-turner of control and manipulation will hit just the right notes for readers who love Paula Hawkins, Maria Semple, and Ruth Ware. [See Prepub Alert, 1/6/17.]-Susan Clifford Braun, Bainbridge Island, WA © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
1 We came here to escape. Escape our mistakes, our boring selves. Escape the constant feeling of being half-asleep, escape our house--the tedious moan of that garage door, the roof we promised to fix every time it rained. Escape dry heat and coyotes and the roads we knew by heart--we knew where those would take us. In paradise there would be new roads and new routines. Different friends, a different house. A different life. In paradise we would be different. Chuck had cheated on me with his assistant manager. That was the main reason we left. Her name was Shelly and Shelly was blond and Shelly was everywhere. Every blond woman in San Diego was Shelly until something confirmed it wasn't--wrong car, wrong walk, wrong face. The real Shelly--I never saw her again after the affair, but it was bound to happen at some point. She lived close by. I probably never would have found out if Shelly hadn't called to confess. She just had to get this off her chest, she said; it was eating her alive. She swore it had only happened that one time. She'd quit the job right afterwards to make sure it would never happen again. She was so so so so sorry and she was crying very hard. Chuck was sorry, too. He hadn't been thinking clearly. They'd been drinking; one thing had led to another. He actually said, "It's almost like someone else did this, not me. It's hard to explain." I said, "But it was you, Chuck. You did this. After eighteen years, this is what you did." When the transfer opportunity for Costco Kona came up and Chuck was elected for it, he said, "Maybe Hawaii will remind us why we love each other." When he said that, it was hard not to imagine Hawaii in the way it's always advertised--a fit couple at sunset under a neon-pink sky--and this was very stupid. I also wondered if it could be us. Later, after the anger passed. Later, after I forgave him. Later, after I could trust him again. If any of that was possible. The twins were stoked. That's how they said it, one right after the other. "Stoked," Jed said. "Stoked," Cam said. They'd miss their friends, but their friends could visit. They'd miss their team, but the incoming coach that year was supposed to suck anyway. Kealakehe's water polo coach had been a big wave surfer--that was rad. And they could start surfing. And when their friends came to visit, they could take their friends surfing. It was all just going to be totally sweet. "Plus, Mom," Cam said, "you love mangoes." There were reasons other than Shelly to leave. I did love mangoes. And I'd only been to Hawaii once, when I was ten, which barely counted anymore. I'd lived in San Diego my entire almost fifty years of life, and my days had begun to feel like the same spin in the same hamster wheel. Same postman at the same time delivering the same bills. Same grocery store, same place I always parked. Same minivan under the same tree. I'd been trying to lose the same five pounds for the last thirty years. When had I become so redundant? And joyless? Was it normal that everything I did had the same tone as flossing? I don't want to do this, but I should do this. I wasn't ready to call myself depressed--my mother had been depressed and killed herself, and I was nowhere close to that--but I strongly felt I could be happier. Still, a part of me wanted to say no, wanted to hang on, wanted to clutch my little hamster claws to the familiar wheel and stay. But I knew I couldn't do that. If I said no, it would prove I had truly lost hope that life could be better than this. "One year," Chuck said. "If things aren't going well in a year, we can always come back." We rented a place up on Kaloko where the land was green and lush. Two acres with a house and a guesthouse, which people called an ohana here. With the money we'd make renting the San Diego house, it was a wash. Brad, who'd also transferred from San Diego, knew someone who knew someone who knew the owner who gave us a good deal. Brad and Marcy had been ripped off at their first place in Kona, and Brad wasn't going to let that happen to any friends of his! Especially not Chargers fans! Brad hit Chuck's arm when he said that, and Chuck chortled and looked at his poor arm as if it were bruised already. Chuck never watched football. But he didn't say that to Brad. Because he was a liar. The house was small and lovely. Very basic--the shape of a rectangle. The ohana was the shape of a square. Alone, just as buildings, they weren't very special, but the gorgeous backdrop made them special. The grass, how green it was, rolling softly up the hill. All these plants I'd never seen before. All these birds. The light. How it was thick and buttery yellow. How San Diego's light in comparison was hollow, washed-out, drained. How the humid air felt like a warm hug. We drove around the island and were in awe. The sky, the sun, the ocean. It was incredible how the landscape changed so quickly--from dewy rain forest up on our mountain to sun-bleached fields of lava down by the water. The lava fields were vast and magical and strange. "This is like Mars," Cam said from the backseat. It was like another planet, but it was also this one in the most basic way. Oh, earth is formed by lava, and here it is. The two-lane highway that cut through the fields seemed equally uncomplicated. Oh, and then we built a road. We stopped to write our name in the lava with white chunks of coral by the side of the road because we saw other people doing that. murphy. Jed held out his long arm to take a picture of us in front of it. The three of them in matching Hawaiian shirts and me in a tank top. Chuck had woken up early to buy these shirts at Walmart. He'd gotten me a small--as a compliment?--and of course it didn't fit. "I can go back to the store!" he'd said. I told him it was fine. "I don't need a matching shirt, Chuck. Just keep driving." We drove and drove. The Big Island was somehow much bigger than I'd imagined. Bigger than all the other islands put together, according to Chuck, who also told us that the clouds in the distance weren't clouds but volcanic fog, which people here called vog. The volcano had been erupting since 1981. The flow was on its way to Pahoa now. Soon it would wipe out that town. We stopped at a beach. Chuck and the boys jumped in the water. I watched them dive into the curling waves. My boys, their strong, beautiful bodies. Chuck, he needed to work out. I found broken shells in the sand and put a few in my pocket. I overheard a woman say to her friend, "Fuck it, let's move here," and I smiled to myself. We were pink faced and giddy in the car. "Those waves were gnarly," Cam said. "We should get a surfboard," Jed said. Chuck looked more refreshed than I'd seen him in a long time. "You're right," he said, happily tapping the wheel, "we should do that." Our first dinner at the new house was a Costco pizza, Hawaiian-style. We ate at the new table off our old IKEA plates. Chuck was excited to start work. Jed was excited to kill it at tryouts. Cam was excited they finally didn't have to share a room anymore. "Only took seventeen years," he said. Before they went to bed, Cam peered out from the doorway of his new room and said, "I'll miss you, brother." Jed said, "Me, too." And then in unison, they shouted the same strange term: "Ass clown!" Chuck had been sleeping on the couch since the night Shelly had called to confess, so it was unclear where he would sleep in this new house. The ohana was empty. Maybe he'd sleep in the ohana. I kept waiting for him to leave. Dinner was done, the dishes were done, the boys were in bed. But he still hadn't left, and his suitcase was still by the door. I could tell he wanted to say something and he wasn't saying it. The way he kept putting his hands in his pockets, the way he was repeating himself: "Can you believe we're here?" "I can't believe we're here." Chuck was a bad communicator. He hated conflict. He'd always been that way. I peeled an orange slowly. Somewhere during the peeling, I realized I was giving him time, I was waiting for him to speak, and this was very generous of me. Too generous. I peeled faster while he pretended to care about the texture of the wall--he was sliding his palm up and down the wall now, saying, "I never thought we would live in Hawaii." I couldn't be patient anymore. With half the orange still unpeeled, I said, "I'm going to bed, Chuck, good night," and walked past him. "Wait. I--" and when I turned, he whispered, "Where do you want me to sleep tonight?" The worry in his eyes. He scratched his neck just for something to do. I felt bad for him. He looked so pathetic. Oh, sweet Chuck, you are such an idiot. In a tone I hoped was emotionless, I whispered back, "Where do you want to sleep tonight?" Slowly, while contorting his face to show me that yes, he understood it was a lot to ask, he pointed to the bedroom. A long pause and then I nodded since we were speaking without words now. Chuck looked so relieved. He went to get his suitcase. The truth was I had wanted him to ask; I'd been waiting. Also I knew our sleeping apart really bothered the boys. They'd started sneaking out at night to light illegal fireworks from Mexico the same week Shelly had called to confess, which I didn't think was a coincidence. Plus this was about trying now. Hawaii meant we had agreed to try. That night, we slept on the farthest sides of the same bed. It was closer than we'd been in months. Excerpted from The Goddesses by Swan Huntley 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.