Ariel Baxter is an excellent photographer, wife of David,
and mother of three rambunctious boys. Unfortunately, she's
also disorganized, forgetful, and a bit frustrated with her
husband's frugality. However, at the beginning of the book,
we see her moving to the neighborhood of her dreams --
Essex Falls. It's only on the other side of the city, but
it represents new status, new dreams, and new friends.
Her new house abuts that of Justine Miller, the reigning
queen of Essex Falls, wife of Mark, and mother of two lovely
daughters. Her house is pristine, free of stray
fingerprints, and the backyard even has a playset. Unlike
Ariel, she would never forget a promise to babysit for her
friend or when to pick up the moving van.
Despite the fact that Ariel moved in Justine's best friend's
house, Justine finds herself befriending Ariel, and Ariel
envies Justine's organizational skills. Heck, Justine even
teaches classes on organization and promises to help Ariel.
Soon, Ariel has a notebook like Justine and is exercising
with Justine -- she's doing her best to be as perfect as
Justine.
But as their friendship forms, Ariel begins to sense that
maybe perfect Justine isn't so perfect after all. After
all, she has sensed some tension between Justine and Erica,
her other new Essex Falls friend. What is that about? Is
it possible that everything is just a facade?
The narrative is told in alternating chapters between
Justine and Ariel. Just as one woman drops off, the next
one picks up, so the story is quiet seamless. The author
easily transitions from one woman to the other in each
chapter. In Justine's chapters, the reader gets a sense of
what lies ahead for her. In Ariel's chapters, the reader
can sense the frustration with trying to be what she's not
(the perfect everything).
The relationships in the book all feel real, whether they
are between mother and daughter, mother and son, husband and
wife, friends, or neighborhood foes. There is an extremely
gentle emphasis put on religion in the book (Erica is the
ex-wife of a pastor), but I doubt it would be offensive to
people who are not religious.
I read this in one sitting because I could not put it down.
And since I've finished it, I've been telling other people
to watch for it. I thoroughly enjoyed immersing myself in
the sublime drama of Essex Falls and taking the journey with
both Ariel and Justine.
Ariel Baxter has just moved into the neighborhood of her
dreams. The chaos of domestic life and the loneliness of
motherhood, however, moved with her. Then she meets her
neighbor, Justine Miller. Justine ushers Ariel into a world
of clutter-free houses, fresh-baked bread, homemade crafts,
neighborhood playdates, and organization techniques designed
to make marriage better and parenting manageable.
Soon Ariel realizes there is hope for peace, friendship, and
clean kitchen counters. But when rumors start to circulate
about Justine’s real home life, Ariel must choose whether to
believe the best about the friend she admires or consider
the possibility that “perfection” isn’t always what it seems
to be.
A novel for every woman who has looked at another woman’s
life and said, “I want what she has,” She Makes It Look Easy
reminds us of the danger of pedestals and the beauty of
authentic friendship.
Excerpt
Ariel
I saw her years later in the grocery store near my house. I
had to look twice to be sure it was her. She had lost
weight, a lot of weight. Her collarbones jutted out from the
neckline of her shirt like the framework of a building. When
she spoke to the young woman accompanying her, her neck
muscles pushed against her skin as though they were
straining to break free. I thought of all our morn- ing
walks together and had to stop myself from approaching to
congratulate her. She always did want to be thinner.
Her hair wasn’t blonde anymore. It was the exact color of my
second son’s hair, a mahogany red that I clearly remembered
her exclaiming over as she stood in my kitchen shortly after
we met. “I love this hair,” she had said, wrapping a single
curl around her finger as my son squirmed and grimaced. “Do
you know how much I’d
have to pay to get hair this color?” she had said.
“But your hair’s a beautiful blonde,” I had offered. My own
hair was auburn. I’d always wanted to be blonde.
She had shrugged, rolled her eyes. “Do you know how much I
had to pay for hair this color?” she had said, laughing. And
I, as always, had laughed with her.
Now, standing at a distance, it took me a moment to
determine that the young woman with her was actually her
older daughter. It appeared that the weight she had lost,
her daughter had found. She slouched along beside her mom, a
permanent sulk on her face, wearing skinny jeans that were
not made for her figure and a T-shirt that read “I Didn’t Do
It.” An unappealing white roll of flesh poked out between
the jeans and the shirt. Her hair was no longer the blonde
airy curls I remembered from back then, perennially clipped
into ponytails with matching ribbons. Instead it was a
dishwater blonde I imagined closely matched her mother’s
real color, hanging dank and stringy around her acne-spotted
face. I closed my eyes to block the longing I felt at the
image of her at eight years old, radiating light and
happiness. The girl I was looking at was not the same
person. Yet she was.
I found myself tailing the two of them, watching her just
like I used to when she was my neighbor, and I was
fascinated—too fascinated—by her. Once, I had wanted to be
just like her. Once, I would’ve done anything to be like
her. As she pulled microwave popcorn and diet sodas from the
shelf, I thought about the time when I knew her. Or, when I
thought I knew her. There was still a part of me that wanted
to talk to her, to ask the questions I never could get her
to answer, just in case I might finally understand what
drove her to do what she did. I wondered if I looked into
her eyes if I would see a flicker of the person I once knew,
or if I
would just see blankness. I imagined a gaping absence that
was always there, even when I chose not to see it.
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