The Dive From Clausen's Pier, by A. Packer
It was the last summer Friday of July yesterday so a grand plan was in order. After work, I was to walk out of my office building, cross the street, and catch the Madison Avenue bus straight to the Met. I had even brought my camera with me - with a fully charged battery! But I detoured a few blocks from the bus stop to pick up a library book I had ordered and drop it off at home. Harmless. Here's where I foiled my own plan: I stopped to eat lunch. Mandarin oranges, the canned kind, put me over the edge. I sipped on the cold sweet liquid between bites of mandarin orange and stared at the book on the table. I convinced myself that I could just read the first chapter. You know, to get my feet wet and have something to look forward to after the museum. Before I knew it, it was pouring buckets of rain outside, I was on page one-hundred-something and gee, that ache to check out Anthony Caro's steel sculptures on the rooftop {+} suddenly went whoosh out the window. It seems that I enjoy dedicating long hot summer Friday afternoons to reading novels straight through.
I'm waiting to hear if I'll have the chance to Skype into a book club that a friend started, but even if they don't have room, I'm glad I read this. The Dive From Clausen's Pier is a story about a young midwestern girl from Wisconsin who ditches her high school sweetheart fiancé for New York after he has an accident that leaves him a paraplegic.
I had never read anything by Ann Packer before, but darn if the prude in me didn't cringe when I hit a couple of her racy sex scenes. The story is to the point, the characters uncomplicated and formulaic, but colorful and honest. Packer relies heavily on dialogue, which makes for a quick read. My hunch is that this 2002 novel appealed to the masses because it's really almost a coming-of-age story about the investments we make in young love, friendships, and ourselves. Who doesn't want to read about that?
My five words on The Dive are: self-awareness, perspective, boldness, freedom, and compassion.
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