Title: The Reluctant Courtship of Jack Allan
Author: Dayle King Searle
Series: N/A
A slow burn but still a solid novel
My thanks to Dayle King Searle, who asked me to read a free copy of her novel in exchange for an honest review.
First and foremost, I want to say this was not a romance. Oddly enough, it’s women’s fiction with a male protagonist. I found the weird clash of tone, perspective, and genre fascinating, and I have to wonder if Searle and her team were aware of it.
Why do I make that argument? Because it wasn’t really about Jack and Ally falling in love, not primarily; I mean, they spent, like, 75% of the book tiptoeing around each other, dating other people and only speaking in passing. At one point in my notes I wrote, “Is this book about potato and wheat farming or Jack and Ally falling in love? Because I’ve read a lot more about the crops than about them.” There were far more scenes and detail about farming than there needed to be—if this was a romance. In a romance, all of that would have been irrelevant, because it had nothing to do with Ally or his relationship with her. However, because I look at it as a kind of male women’s fiction revolving around Jack and his life, the farming scenes fit right in because farming was what he did and a big part of who he was.
The true story here was about Jack working his way through the emotions he’d buried regarding the tragedy in his past, reconciling with God, and getting himself involved in life again. He went through a fantastic, heart-wrenching arc, and Ally merely provided a motivation, an initial incentive, that he turns his focus on to start the journey from A to B, emotionally. Could Ally have been that incentive and the story still been a romance? Sure, if she’d been around more and they’d actually spent quality time together without a crisis going on.
Anyway, into the book. The first third was a chore and did nothing to hook me or get me excited about what was to come. I plodded along with the unoriginal plot, meeting characters that were shallow, stereotypical, selfish, or a combination thereof and whom I wanted to smack upside the head.
But somewhere around 30 percent something changed, and I was drawn in. I’m not sure if I was intrigued because Ally and Jack were growing further apart rather than closer together—kind of the opposite of what’s supposed to happen in a romance—or if the characters were finally growing on me—probably both—but I stayed up later than I planned to that night, unable to stop reading, and reading more was the first thought I had upon waking the following morning.
Jack was a too-nice doormat who did pretty much what anyone told him to do. Even at the end in the ice shelter when he told Ally he loved her, he was prompted by the memory of his sister telling him to nut up or shut up earlier that day or the day before. I think it was just the kind of guy he was: quiet, steady, bashful, kind. You know the type; a low-key cruiser, not a boat-rocker. Not a mean bone in his body and capable of utmost devotion and unconditional love—but it’s hard for him to stand up for/fight for himself, especially when he’s been harboring a lot of self-hatred and guilt for three years.
His kind personality and affection for his family is what made his secret so shocking, and so heartbreaking. I cried for him, both for what he had suffered and what he thought of himself. That scene in the hospital garden, the flashbacks… I was a mess. (Luckily, I was eating hot salsa at that moment and blamed my drippy eyes and nose on that.) To be frank, I’m impressed he wasn’t at all suicidal. He was lost in a dark pit of despair and guilt and shame and grief, and watching him crawl out of that pit throughout the book and find the light again—allow himself to find it—was very satisfying. No one deserved a happy ending more.
I despised Miranda at first, just as Searle wanted me to. All I could think while she was around was: “Back off, man-eater. Quit getting between him and Ally or they’re never going to happen!” Then I was pleasantly surprised to find out she wasn’t a wicked, self-absorbed person, just persistent, exuberant, energetic, and a bit more vain than the average bear. She was also smart, compassionate, hard-working, and strong. And a little naive, perhaps. I gotta tell ya, I actually wanted Jack to end up with her! I was half convinced that would be the plot twist. It would have been very women’s fiction to feign one love interest but have Jack actually fall in love with the last woman he expected as a result of his own change in attitude. Missed opportunity.
Greg was a sweetie and I liked him—except the time when he and all his children were parked in front of the TV watching baseball while his wife, their mother, who was pregnant and sicker than she had been with the other kids, was slaving away in the kitchen putting together a very nice Sunday meal for them. And I got the feeling that wasn’t unusual. Ohh, how I wanted to take a baseball bat to that TV. Then to them. As for Gwen herself, she was a strong female character, but I didn’t like some of her opinions.
One of the remarks of hers that rubbed me wrong was part of that same Sunday dinner scene. She finally got Jack to set the table and reminded him that she wanted forks placed on the left. Jack asked if it really mattered which side the forks were on. And she said: “It matters because I don’t want my boys growing up and having people think they are hicks because they don’t know that the fork goes on the left.”
I read that, and my brows shot up and my head reared back as if I’d been physically slapped. Out loud, I said, “Thank you for insulting me, my family, and everyone I know.” Because the only people I’ve ever seen eat with their forks in their left hands are characters in movies and on TV. And, well, left-handed people, of course. But no one I know would judge you by which hand you used to wield a fork. No one would care. So maybe I’m a hick, but you, Gwen, are pretentious as hell. An editor should have caught that.
Ally was an enigma who gave me as many mixed messages as she gave Jack. I didn’t really like her, probably because I couldn’t get a bead on her. She wanted to be everything: straightforward yet tactful, outspoken yet reserved, rude yet polite. The character’s personality, convictions, and motivations bemused me.
Also, I did not buy that Jack was in love with her. I think, if he was in love with anything, it was with the idea of her, the thing she’d come to represent to him. They spent enough time together to become friends, even good friends—though I wouldn’t say close—but they spent so much time and effort avoiding each other—at least on Jack’s part—and trying to not fall in love with each other that I have a hard time believing they were in love by the end. I’d have bought it if they’d agreed to date, but confessing love and getting married lickety-split was too much.
There were a lot of characters. I kept the important recurring ones straight, though I got some of the townspeople confused, but it hardly mattered. Consolidate your characters, Searle, combine roles and get rid of the unnecessary ones.
There was a side theme of neighbors returning favors. Jack and Greg made sure What’s-His-Face’s crops got harvested, and when Jack was busy in the hospital, What’s-His-Face returned the favor by finishing planting Jack’s winter wheat crop. I think it was a huge missed opportunity not to cap off that theme by having the neighbors help look for Ben at the end. Aside from it being the smart thing to do in that situation—I think?—it could have brought that theme back around. Plus, if the neighbors didn’t just keep an eye out but went above and beyond and got organized to help search, it could have been a demonstration that they no longer held a grudge against Ally about Harland, that they considered her a neighbor, considered her “one of them.” Know what I mean?
With that one exception, every other plot point—to my knowledge, anyway—was beautifully set up and paid off. Just about everything that happened later in the book had been set up earlier, so there was no deus ex machina. That’s skillful plotting, and I thoroughly appreciated it.
Well, I have a long list of other notes and nitpicks, but this is a review, not an editorial report, and I think I’ve hit the important points, so I’ll wrap it up.
I think the end dragged on a bit longer than it needed to, but I didn’t mind overmuch. Also, there were some great lines in the book, such as, “For months, Jack lived in those dreams and sleepwalked through his days.” That was poignant, especially in context. There was some great humor as well—Ruby telling Jack Ally had nice teeth, Jack dancing with Miranda at the dance, Jack being unable to think of witty remarks on command, three-year-old Brandon’s very serious conversations, and, okay, when Jack and Gavin both put their arms around Ally in church, I snorted so hard I had to go blow my nose.
Lastly, despite its flaws—and despite the fact that I’m agnostic—this novel hit home with me not only because it was solidly written, not only because it got to my heart and made me laugh and cry—but because of the farming life Searle describes beautifully. I’ve helped my family farm corn and soybean crops most of my life, and my dad is a grain manager at the regional co-op. I’ve worked there myself for three harvests grading grain. I know how crazy the producers get when it rains and they can’t go. We were harvesting into December this year, through rain and sleet and snow. I have no experience with farming potatoes or wheat, but so much of the work and necessary chores are similar that it felt familiar and relatable. And I think, second only to Jack’s arc, that’s what I liked most about this book.
I don’t know what’s next for Searle, I couldn’t find any indication of future work, but, if she was interested in staying in Corbett, I think it would be really cool to delve into Bryce and Miranda’s relationship. They seem so different; how do they get along? What do they talk about? Does Bryce mind being her Ken doll? And she’s got two businesses and two exes. Issues are bound to crop up. She wants a happy-ever-after so badly, I kind of want to see her get one.
Edit: I want to scratch that last paragraph. Searle clearly tells a great women’s fiction story, so it would actually be a story about Miranda, and Bryce would just appear as a supporting character. (I really liked Miranda. Can you tell?)
