Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano

Initially, I thought I was going to love this book. The Padavano sisters intrigued me and I related specifically to Sylvie who was determined to find love with a partner for the pure joy of it and not view a partnership as part of a pre-ordained plan for the future, as her sister Julia did.  I appreciated Julia, though, with all of her confident energy. I admired Cecelia and how she owned the out of wedlock pregnancy, making it work unapologetically, even when her mother put her out of the house and then blamed her for Charlie’s death. Emeline’s quiet energy flowed like a gentle stream among her family and was a nice foil to her bolder sisters and mother.

Charlie made me think of Johnny Nolan in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. While Johnny’s wife, Katie, works alone to fill up the practical and physical needs of her children due to Johnny’s absence as a partner, Johnny feeds his children in an emotional way, which ultimately seems to rival Katie’s contributions, even though her work keeps people alive, literally. Johnny is a loving and charismatic alcoholic, valued by his children, especially daughter Francie. The Padavano family dynamic felt similar, in that Charlie’s girls find his emotional energy and support invaluable, while Rose, their mother, is painted as harsh, aloof and unforgiving despite her supporting the family in very tangible ways.

William Waters’ character felt like a grown-up version of Edward Adler from Ann Napolitano’s other book “Dear Edward.” Both William and Edward are very emotionally fragile and prone to being bossed about by one or more strong women characters. The way William is handled with such care by Sylvie and the way Charlie is celebrated, even after his death, as a shining light in all of their lives, made me think about how women often nuture and forgive men as though they are precious children who contribute to our lives by simply being. I think women inherently expect less from fathers, brothers, husbands and sons than they do from the women in their lives. I see women step up, communicate, and help out while oftentimes men do less, say less, contribute less, and women will work harder to compensate for those shortfalls. I see it all the time. I’ve experienced it. I’ve enabled it.

However, I think the author is making a point here about how people who may seem less life-compatible in ways society deems important can add value to the lives of others in invisible ways. Julia had a vision for William. He was a vehicle that she planned to drive toward her desired destination and in allowing Julia to steer, he crashes hard. Sylvie values William in his broken state and under her appreciation and love, he manages to thrive in his own way. Julia’s attempt to manage the people in her life, like William, like Alice, like her sisters and mother, fails because there is no changing what traits and behaviors in people actually exist. You can work to ignore them, but eventually, those personalities will die or emerge. And in Julia’s case, Sylvie’s impending death and then actual death cause all that was tamped down in her life to erupt.

I felt less enthused about this book once William made an unsuccessful attempt to end his life. Sometimes the come-back part of a story is so interesting and I’m fully on board with a character’s rise from the ashes, but William’s recovery was lackluster. It may sound cruel or impatient, but his self-loathing got tiresome. His uber fragility and feelings of unworthiness wore me out. Maybe it’s the mother and sister in me that knows you must go on for others who need you even when you want to give up yourself. And the care that Sylvie took to make sure William didn’t fall down again felt like a responsibility she didn’t deserve. She adored him. I get it. But to know he’s ignoring the existence of your niece? Of your sister’s child? That your dearest sister is raising your husband’s child alone? Bearing the responsibility that he gave up under the guise of “I’m not good enough?” The relationship felt too carefully kept to me. Like we can’t mention names and acknowledge the existence of family members or someone might take another header into the lake. None of that felt right to me. And then, when the work of raising Alice is done, for better or for worse, the book’s ending indicates that Alice will be in William’s life and the timing of that is perfect for him because he’s lost Sylvie, his life partner. Even the way he wandered around all day in the yard at Cecelia and Emeline’s home without acknowledging Alice’s presence the day she arrived from New York to see him, pissed me off. Everyone stands down while he mourns Sylvie and they watch him, quietly monitoring his grief. Conveniently, for William, Alice arrives when a need for her has opened in him.

I think this story endorses the fact that life is a messy business, people don’t fit into neat categories and that we can’t wish away who we are, or who our parents are, or how we feel about each other. This is a decent read and I would recommend it to the right person.