Many years ago, Jay Mackintosh wrote the prize-winning first novel"Jackapple Joe" but has been unable to achieve that success again. He writes sci-fi to make money, and is depressed at the thought that he might never again write something to equal his first book.

On an impulse, Jay leaves his girlfriend and London and purchases, sight-unseen, an old house in a rural French village where he thinks he can change his life and conquer his writer's block.

After reading "Chocolat", I had high expectations for Joanne Harris' next book. Perhaps that is why I was so disappointed by "Blackberry Wine".

As charming as her first book was, this one was just plain tedious with a lot of dark undercurrents that I did not like. It is a shame that the author did not just somehow stick to the stories of Jay, Joe Cox, and the village of Lansquenet and forget about the magical wine. I thought that if I read about those silly bottles clanking together and *speaking* to Jay one more time I would scream!

The book could have been so appealing to me had it been organized differently. I really loved reading about Joe's magic with the herbs and seeds that he saved for many years. I felt that the magic realism was very clumsy and almost seemed like it was tacked onto the book--and the love story was pretty awkward too.

As much as the magic realism worked for me in "Chocolat", it did not spin its same spell in this book.

Joanne Harris has done it again. After indulging myself in Chocolat, I was a little nervous about reading Blackberry Wine. So many times after a smashing debut, the sophomore effort doesn't match up. However, that wasn't the case with this one. Blackberry Wine is utterly intoxicating.

Thirty-seven-year-old writer, Jay Macintosh, is stuck in the past. During his childhood, Jay spent three magical summers in rural England with retired miner and eccentric gardener, Joe Cox, a man who would become a source of inspiration for Jay. Joe, with his talismans, good luck charms and rituals, taught Jay many things, mostly about luck, magic, gardening and winemaking, before disappearing without a trace one day and impacting Jay for the rest of his life. And several years later, after the overwhelmingly success of his only novel, Jackapple Joe, Jay has found himself struggling with writer's block. On a whim, Jay purchases a small cottage in a remote village in France where he hopes to recreate those magical summers and let his imagination and creativity flow. But there are all sorts of surprises in store for Jay -- for one, a mysterious woman with a secret past that influences Jay in more ways imaginable.

Blackberry Wine is a beautiful, lush piece of work. However, I couldn't fully appreciate it until I'd read the whole story -- it was too hard to decide if I liked it or not when all the pieces were unread. Now having reflected on the complete story (and after ravishing the last few chapters), I realize that Joanne Harris's touch is still magical. Blackberry Wine will seduce you little by little, and it is so worth it by novel's end.

Joanne Harris' latest book, Blackberry Wine, picks up on some of the themes of her earlier book, Chocolat. Magic and its application to modern life... the hurtfulness of prejudice, especially religious prejudice against those who don't follow the locally prescribed formula... and the folly of blindly accepting what is too often mistaken as progress and success... are central to both works.

In Blackberry Wine, Jay Mackintosh needs a little magic. An unproductive novelist living in a depressing English lifestyle earmarked by alcohol and an unfulfilling relationship, Jay is haunted by a childhood defined by bullies and detached parents but redeemed by the quirky Joe Cox, who planted vegetables and made magical wine. Now, on a whim, Jay sets out to rediscover Joe's magic in the French village of Lansquenet, a place which is quaint and remote but beginning to go to seed and also needs a little magic. Jay carries with him the last six bottles of Joe's Special wine. The house that Jay purchases sight unseen except for a blurry picture in a brochure, is in disrepair but reminds him of Joe, and in fact seems to be inhabited by Joe's ghost.

In the house over the next several months, Jay uncorks the Special wines one by one, releasing their magic and allowing himself and the house to absorb their mysterious qualities. He begins renovations on the place, taking care not to lose its essential charm. He meets and learns about the people in the village and their concerns for saving their economy and their way of life. His writer's block lifts and he can hardly believe he is able to produce page after page of a new novel about the village and its inhabitants. He is most intrigued by his reclusive and alluring neighbor Marise, respected by some as a hard worker who bothers no one, but denigrated by others for being unsociable and irreligious. But the more he learns about her, the less she fits the character he had presumed her to be in the fiction he has been creating. Although his novel is coming along swiftly, he does not know where it is going, nor where he himself is going. The village also is waffling through the same process, unclear about how to define its future. Should it embark on tourism and commercial development schemes or sit back and submit to its inevitable economic decline? Through a blending of magic and hard reality, Jay rediscovers what is important in planning his own future and that of the village of Lansquenet.

Joanne Harris uses a tantalizing array of luscious food as a backdrop in this dark and compelling novel. Five Quarters of the Orange focuses on the German occupation of France as viewed through the eyes of children and the memories of one of these children,Framboise, now a 60 year old woman. The novel takes place in a small French village near the Loire river. While Framboise's widowed mother, Mirabele, nurtures her orchard, a young German soldier, Tomas, nurtures a friendship with Mirabelle's three children, Casis, Reine, and Framboise. Framboise, now in her 60's tells the story, looking back through her memories and through a "cookbook" her mother has left to her. However, it is not just a cookbook. It is also a diary and book of memories that Mirabelle had bound together in no particular order. Framboise pieces together the family history using her memories of her childhood and the information gleaned through Mirabelle's "cookbook". What emerges is a dark story of Mirabelle's inability ,through her own cloud of migraines and medication, to show any emotion but anger to her children. The children are used by the German soldier to gather information on their neighbors. To the children it is just a way to get chocolates, books, and other items that are difficult to come by in war time, among the most important of these is the friendship and love the children perceive they get from Tomas. They choose not to really see what they are doing as imperilling to their fellow villagers. They are lonely children who are desperate for adult attention and the results are tragic and take years to comprehend.

As with Harris's other books, I was captivated. The themes of food and secrets and old stories that run through her books were all again present here, but this time the evils of Nazism (both near and far) lent a darker tone to the book.
Harris's transitions from past to present were less successful than in Chocolat and Blackberry Wine, and I found it difficult to keep the characters straight at times.
But once again, the author manages to surprise, entrance, puzzle, and inform us through our senses as well as through her words.

War is hell, as we all know, but the last word on that still hasn't been said. Now Joanne Harris gives us a book that exposes the ugliness of war from the viewpoint of three neglected children, living in a German-occupied French village during World War II. In "Five Quarters of the Orange," narrator Framboise Dartigen unfolds a chilling tale in which she and her two siblings find themselves collaborating with Nazis, trading secrets about their neighbors for chocolate and comic books.

The great strength of "Five Quarters of the Orange" is Harris' unflinching honesty about childhood--its capacity for treachery and cruelty. Graphic images of Framboise's war against the life of the nearby river underline this theme. After a village girl is bitten and killed by a venomous snake, Framboise nets a dozen snakes, crushes their skulls and leaves them to rot on the river banks.

At the heart of the novel, as in the novelist's early work "Chocolat," is a complicated relationship between mother and daughter. Framboise's mother Mirabelle mistakenly applies the same techniques to child rearing that she applies to growing fruit trees. Prune them severely and they will flower. She discovers too late that children don't respond well to constant scolding and deprivation.

Mirabelle is also plagued by olfactory hallucinations. Prior to her terrible migraines, she thinks she smells oranges. In scenes which make the book worth reading by themselves, Framboise gets revenge on her mother by planting a cut up orange near the stove so that the scent fills the house. These scenes of nine-year-old vindictiveness are where Harris reveals her true genius.

"Five Quarters of the Orange" isn't just another war novel, however. It's also a mystery. Why does Framboise disguise her identity when she returns to her childhood village after an absence of 50 years? A scandal hangs over her head from that earlier time, so many decades ago. A scandal so flagrant she is sure she would never be accepted back into her community if they knew exactly who she was. This unknown scandal, which is gradually unfolded through flashbacks, provides most of the novel's suspense.

To dwell only on the horrors of "Five Quarters of the Orange" would be to do the book an injustice, though. Though Harris' genius shines most truly in her portrayal of how war compromises even the innocent, this book is also rich in charm and whimsy--the same kind of graceful good humor that made the author's previous book "Chocolat" such a big hit and the subsequent movie so well reviewed. Scenes of the grotesque give way to moments of gentle slapstick.

People who are tired of conventional treatments of the elderly in literature will especially enjoy the episode in which the elderly Framboise and her aging neighbor get the better of a 20-something hoodlum terrorizing Framboise's creperie. Their shared triumph sparks an autumnal romance that cannot fail to delight even the most cynical readers. Even for someone like Framboise with skeletons in her closet, it's never too late to make a clean breast of things, never too late to fall in love.

When I bought this book last month, Lent had just begun and I found it was the perfect time to read this lovely little book!

The story takes place between Ash Wednesday and Easter and delightfully portrays true kindness and charity by using the symbolism surrounding the sweetness and comfort of chocolate. The local priest and his "groupies" distrust the new young woman who has come to their sleepy town and opened the small, warm, inviting chocolate shop just acros from his church. Chocolate represents for them decadence and evil - where for the townsfolk, it opens their eyes to lifes' joy they have been missing. As Easter - and a Chocolate Festival - approach, the "penitent" feel they must stop the festival - but we find that the forty days of Lent have taught this little town the true meanings of Christianity. Wonderfully seen from two points of view - one accepting and open, the other skeptical and closed-minded, the books' characters blossom as they stop in at the little chocolate shop. It's a story of winter turning to spring, of distrust turning to trust, of good triumphing over evil - and of chocolate delights so well-described you can taste them!

I don't think I've ever read a book quite like Chocolat before. The plot is fairly simple: Vianne Rocher, a wanderer with a young daughter, arrives in Lansquenet on Shrove Tuesday. Something about the village appeals to her, despite the looming presence of the Black Man, the local priest, and she decides to stay. Taking the lease on an old bakery directly across the road from the church, she opens a chocolaterie.

A chocolate shop. In *Lent*! Thus Vianne arouses the fury of Reynard, the priest, while at the same time gradually seducing many of the townspeople one by one with the delicious smell and taste of chocolate, and her uncanny ability to divine everyone's 'favourite'. Does Vianne have some sort of supernatural powers? Can she read minds? Harris never completely answers that question, but then the first-person narrative allows Vianne to reveal only as much as she wishes, and she herself rejects any suspicion of such abilities. And yet the Tarot cards are still ever-present, as are the strange dreams and visions.

Reynaud, the priest, whose own first-person narrative takes up about a quarter of the book, is another fascinating character. Overly self-righteous and determined to be in control of everything in the village, he takes immediate exception to *Mademoiselle* Rocher and her chocolaterie, and sees it as his mission to wean his flock away from her. But he has secrets as well, some of which are suspected by the old woman Armande (another fascinating character).

As Harris takes us inexorably towards Easter, it's clear that some sort of confrontation is coming between the old habits and the new, the dull darkness of conformity and the glad brightness of joy, and the priest and the chocolate-woman. But exactly what form does it take? You'll have to read for yourself.

Oh, and don't forget to savour the secondary characters: Vianne's daughter Anouk, Armande, Guillaume and his beloved dog, Josephine the kleptomaniac who is married to a drunked wife-beater, Roux the proud gypsy and many more.

If you're caught in a bit of twix, with nothing to read, then may I suggest this excellent bounty? It is produced, not by Mars of Slough, but Joanne Harris of Barnsley, a chef who excels in the art of couverture chocolate. Step into her boutique, 'La Celeste Praline', and you'll be caught unawares by her classy wares. Chocolat is a novel of great sweetness, perfect for those who like their confictionary to be well milked. For readers with richer palates, however, Harris has also produced an intoxicating blend of dark chocolate, which is - dare we say it - extremely 'topic'al. If you're looking for a few delightful snickers, and not a lengthy marathon, then this is the novel for you. It's certainly richer and more exquisite than the most popular currency of chocolate bars.

Vianne Rocher arrives in the French village of Lansquenet during its carnival, a feast before the fast of Lent. With her is daughter Anouk (who seems to be named after a chocolate treat), and Anouk's companion, the mysterious Pantoufle. Joanne Harris tends to write a lot about alchemy in connection with cooking (see her excellent new novel, 'Blackberry Wine'), but Vianne Rocher would seem to have more than culinary skills at her disposal... This is especially apparent, though, in her delicious meeting with Armande Voizin, to which there is more than meets the eye. 'Pantoufle' refers to Charles Perrault's fairy tale of Cinderella, and as such, could be a subtle hint as to Vianne's true identity... It would seem appropriate here to compare Harris' work with that of Kate Atkinson, especially with regards to her new book, Emotionally Weird. Atkinson says that she has been trying to write a fiction with all the richness of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. But it seems to me that Joanne Harris is more adept at writing fairy tales - her characterisation is stronger, certainly. Whilst Atkinson plays with words, Harris plays with thoughts and emotions. Chocolat is full of magic and fairy tales, from the realisation of a true Gingerbread house, to Vianne's use of Pagan cards and charms.

It is holy appropriate then, that the conflict and drama within this novel stems from the masculine Church's opposition to Vianne Rocher and her culinary work. It even seems that that Joanne Harris could be engaging on a narrative in which God the Father and Mother Earth are the main combatants, featuring their eternal struggle as man and wife. Father Reynaud is the country priest who sees danger in Vianne's shop, and the novel is narrated in the first person by both of these antagonists. Reynaud relates his tale to the mysterious pere, whilst Vianne muses greatly on her long lost mother, with both 'parent' appearing to be flawed in some way. However, this struggle between the masculine and the feminine does not become too abstract, since Josephine Muscat has to bear the bruises in her role as battered wife. Chocolat has its fair share of romance, but also contains a swift punch of brutal reality.

Like Blackberry Wine, Joanne Harris has decided to serve some home truths, along with the after dinner mints. The novel deals with thorny issue of immigration, currently a hot potato in Britain, and the problems of a population which is growing ever older. The Pope's recent apologies for the crimes of Roman Catholicism also resound within. These issues may be set in the exotic French countryside, but they still have relevance to us. Okay, so the richness of the carnivalesque and the mystique of magic realism have been added to the mixture, but their presence only serves to add depth, and never confusion. Vianne has a reluctance to see her fate in the stars, but this novel has won near universal admiration and is soon to be made into a film. It's a fiction which works on so many different layers, but like a particularly rich cake, there is something within it for everyone. The author uses simple words in her prose, but the combination of these coarse ingredients is explosive. Harris certainly knows how to play on our heartstrings, to make us feel for her characters.

Current medical advice would certainly indicate that Chocolat could play a powerful part in reducing stress and lowering cholesterol. It's potent mixture: a benign, yet provoking stimulant which melts on the tongue. As for its aphrodisiac qualities, well, I can hardly say... But the only disappointment to be had from Chocolat is that it has to end.

It's a maxim. Like the wrecked boats, jetsam, fisherman lost at sea, everything returns to the French island of La Devin eventually, including Harris's narrator, Madeleine ("Mado") Prasteau. Feeling the pull of the island after living in Paris for ten years, Mado returns to her childhood village of Les Salants, where seabirds yark angrily at one another in the salty, weed-scented air, and omens ride the waves like gulls. Upon her arrival, she encounters economic rivalry between the villages of Les Salants and La Houssiniere, family rivalry between her "undemonstrative" father, GrosJean and Brismand, and sibling rivalry with her older sister, Adrienne. For Mado, her return proves to be an experience that leaves her feeling "overwhelmed." "I was spinning," she says midway through the novel, "too fast for the center of me to hold. I felt that at any moment I might explode like a rocket, scrawling my name in stars across the dazzling sky" (p. 238). By the end of Harris's engaging and often poetic novel, Mado finds redemption.

In her novels, Joanne Harris evokes a sensual response from her reader, and COASTLINERS is no exception. Whereas CHOCOLAT (1999) was sweet and FIVE QUARTERS OF THE ORANGE (2001) was somewhat tart and bittersweet, COASTLINERS is salty with the satisfying flavor of wild garlic.

G. Merritt

Mado has been away from the remote Breton Island of Le Devin for ten tears. She returns from Paris to find that little has changed. Her father remains locked in his own silent world. The rivalry between families in her home village of Les Salants is as strong as it has been for decades. The village itself still lives under the shadow of the more affluent La Houssiniere.

Her efforts to drag the village out of its defeatism have little support apart from the enigmatic Flynn. Who is he?

Against this backcloth we have Joanne Harris' usually brilliant evocation of the senses. You can feel the sand between your toes and the sea breeze in your face. You feel like shaking these characters out of their shells. You want to take the next ferry to a remote French Island. This is certainly her best since Chocolat. Maybe better.

You can almost feel the sand between your toes as you read COASTLINERS. And yet this new novel from Joanne Harris, award-winning author of CHOCOLAT, is far from a typical beach read. Set on a small French island, the story revolves around a handful of families that dictate every aspect of life there with the notable exception of the tides. And, as they soon discover, even that power may be within their reach.

COASTLINERS is a potpourri of mystery, romance, and suspense. Readers follow in the footsteps of Madeleine or "Mado," a young woman who returns to her island home to a silent father and a community that is quickly slipping into the sea. An artist whose subject matter has always been the island, Mado returns to Les Salants from Paris seeking a sense of home, of family, of belonging.

Once again exploring the inner-workings of community, of who fits in and why, Harris deftly imparts deep-rooted feelings of loss with those of revenge to the inhabitants of Les Salants, a town where historical feuds fester and faith in a Saint overrides a sense of independent action.

Though readers may stumble on similar sounding names of an ever-expanding cast of characters, the compelling plot --- complete with unexpected twists and turns --- makes the story well worth the read. The power of charm in its seediest of contexts, the destructive effects of misdirected love, and the manipulative power of human nature work to pull at and repair the tiny island community of Les Salants. At the story's end, characters emerge with a renewed sense of direction and readers feel as though they've taken a dip into the deep end of a French island pool. Harris treats readers to descriptions of Les Salants and its residents that seem almost tangible. You can see the glittery pieces of sand as they build on the beach and taste the salt from the sea.

Harris strikes gold in this new novel, which catapults readers into the disheveled lives of one family that exists on an island of its very own. Carrying the expectations of a deceased mother and the guilt of leaving her forlorn father on Les Salants, Mado struggles to strike a balance between independence and familial reconciliation. Readers of CHOCOLAT may recognize familiar themes of self-discovery and shedding veils of the past in COASTLINERS. Yet unlike the dark element to CHOCOLAT, COASTLINERS imparts a sense of possibility in its 344 pages and leaves readers with a desire to know more about the about the fate of the Salannaise.

--- Reviewed by Heather Grimshaw