Although this book was intended for the impending holiday, I devoured The Lemon Grove in one sitting. I’m a sucker for a pretty cover and then I thought I would just read the first chapter. And then maybe one more. And before I knew it, I had ploughed through the entire book. There was nothing else for it. Helen managed to draw me in to Jenn’s holiday in the little Mallorcan village: I could feel the heat in my bones, hear the crickets, smell the dust. She has explored the tricky subjects of identity, family, ageing and the lure of the forbidden with an artist’s hand. I felt like I was the fly on the wall, or a voyeur, seeing the story unfold first-hand in all its conflict. Pure magic! Well, unless you were one of the characters. And that’s all I’m going to say.
“She eats hungrily, without restraint or embarrassment. The starchy inner flesh of the pastries has cooled and solidified, smearing her fingers in orange grease. The explosion of flavours, one after another – spinach and anchovies and olive oil – is good, each mouthful restoring her. The thunder rumbles again, closer, directly above them … The air is fat and tight.”
Since I’m done with this one, have you got any recommendations I must read?