HONESTY by LINDA LAUREN

 HONESTY

BY LINDA LAUREN

THE BLURB:-

'I've always wanted woman's wants. Before lipsticks, glossy cream sheens of tempting pout, it was stolen Smarties- the black ones licked and dabbed on my eyelids, and the reds run around my slashed smile. It felt strange, with eyelids dried to cardboard consistency. But I considered it helped with that strained, haughty look that all the best ladies possessed. It had to be learnt at a very early age just what hard work it is to be beautiful.'

As a child, Lizzie craves to be initiated into the mysteries of womanhood. Nightly she watches her mother's transformation- with the aid of powder and paint- from the hard, tough-handed housewife who had the first mangle in the street into a mysterious creature of the dusk, a femme fatale who rustles as she moves and smells of cream cakes as she sits on Lizzie's bed. Then suddenly her mother needs the smiles more than she needs Lizzie and leaves home.

But there are compensations: being able to shop, cook, iron for her father, playing grown-up games...

Lizzie at eleven is the vamp, pretending to seduce men with her eyes in cafes, regularly playing truant- and then going home to act the little woman for her dad. By fourteen she is affecting world-weariness: she has become an expert tease: drugs are passé.

And then she finds him: her man. Michael Rosetti, divinely tall, pale and sensitive, opens the last gate for Lizzie into the adult world of her dreams- where honesty costs.

THE REALITY:-

So I claimed the hardback for my forever pile, after first reading this work by Linda Lauren (as discussed in my previous post) over a friend's shoulder at the age of 14, being fascinated and then owning a paperback version over 10 years ago.

“She (Linda Lauren) started writing at the age of four. In lipstick all over her bedroom wall. She was enthusiastically discouraged until she got to school where she found it had to be done in black pencil and in straight lines,” said the author blurb at the back. Hmmm. Why do I feel like this is a monumental falsehood? I mean, would a four-year-old really do that? Don't get me wrong, good if she did, but the subsequent lack of information about this author makes me wonder if, like the Nancy Drew series, more than one writer has contributed to this work. Yes, the style is similar to Pretties and the same as Sisters but, if it has all been penned by the same person then maybe Pretties- although published second- was actually the writer's first attempt, as it seems the vaguest out of the three?

Enough of my tangent- down to the job at hand. Set in the 1970s, this story gives a very real account of exactly what it's like for a young, working class girl growing up. Heartfelt and honest (no pun intended...), the quote, “You have to take my honesty. It's all I have to give....” on page 165 really hit a note, when Lizzie is dissecting her feelings with regard to her little daughter, and how she tries to convey them to her husband. This book does indeed look at the many roles a woman has to play (daughter, stepdaughter, girlfriend, wife, lover, mother) and does it brutally well.

Serious events take place, from (spoiler alerts coming): Lizzie's mother abandoning the family, incidences with dodgy boyfriends and perverts, pregnancy, abortion and miscarriage, to the sad death of Carol at the end.  Incidentally, I loved the way the writer likens the latter's fragile state to that of Katy, a broken but much-loved doll of Lizzie's childhood.  These comparisons serve to make the writing genuine and emotional, and the more prosaic events such as the onset of periods, the growing of breasts and contraception are dealt with... honestly.

And that's exactly what I would call this book- honest. Never has a title so perfectly described a story before!  The experiences are so genuine I feel that I've lived some of them (and I have, although I consider myself much more emotionally immature than Lizzie at the same age).  The characters are so real I feel that I once lived next door to them.  And I wish I'd have known them- or even been one of them. A work of genius.