Where Rainbows End (Cecelia Ahern)****

It’s probably not Cecelia Ahern’s fault I consider her a hit-and-miss author. Probably anyone who tried to turn such magical ideas as she has into a book would struggle because almost every one of her ideas is outside the realms of possibility (not including the one about invisible friends, If You Could See Me Now. Trust me, they are real).

Where Rainbows End is slightly more grounded in reality than most but it also includes the ‘magic’ of two people’s being soulmates. Ahern’s central characters Rosie and Alex (Alex is a guy) are meant for each other but they kind of keep missing each other. They arrange to go to the school Prom together despite the small inconvenience of Alex’s living in the USA at the time but Alex’s flight is cancelled and the only guy without a date is so awful Rosie has to get drunk. And she ends up having a baby. Then Rosie realises she likes Alex but Alex goes off and gets married. Then Alex realises he likes Rosie but she goes off and gets married. Then Alex… you get the idea. I don’t know why they do it really. Surely marriage is bad enough if you actually love the person you’re marrying.

Rainbows End, like the Holly’s Inbox books, is a novel in letters. It starts off with Alex and Rosie aged 7 writing each other notes in class (or from their bedrooms on the many occasions when they’ve been banned from seeing one another). They later graduate to Instant Messaging each other in class (which is a bit surprising, I’m ten years younger than them and I’m sure we never had Instant Messaging in class, I didn’t even know how to do Instant Messaging till I was twenty) before mostly e-mailing when they’re adults. Alex moves to America when he and Rosie are in their late teens, which ensures they have good reason to continue writing to one another.

The novel in letters can be alienating because you never find out anything until someone writes about it in a letter or e-mail. You don’t know anything until it’s happened, which kind of rules out the idea of them dying tragically in each other’s arms. In this case, we barely see the two main characters together because they’re mostly writing to each other (although they do get to meet up every so often, where they take turns at making fools of themselves).

But in this book, it isn’t a problem. If you think about it, all books (apart from the present tense ones I suppose) involve reporting events. Many books are written in the first person – just like letters and e-mails. Also, the letters and e-mails in this book tend to be quite long, so in some ways it’s not much different from a multi-viewpoint book, with several pages from one person’s point of view, followed by several pages from the point of view of another person. Most of the book is Rosie and Alex, but Rosie’s daughter Katie, Katie’s best friend Toby, Rosie’s new friend Ruby, Rosie’s sister Steph and their parents all make regular appearances.

And the Instant Messages are so much like conversations, they flow naturally too. True, as far as Instant Messages go, they’re not terribly realistic. Ahern uses a bit of poetic licence, allowing the characters to interrupt each other mid-sentence. As far as I know, Instant Messages aren’t that advanced yet – I don’t think you can see what the other person is writing until you’ve pressed Send, so while someone might only read the first sentence before writing back, they can’t really interrupt you mid-sentence. But Ahern gets away with it. And if there isn’t an Instant Messaging system like that now, there probably will be at some point. And maybe this book is set in the future.

A Place Called Here (Cecelia Ahern)**

Not another therapy story! This time it’s Sandy – a tall, brunette named Sandy Shortt: is it just me who didn’t find that funny? – who sees the school counsellor about her obsessive habit of looking for everything she’s lost. Of course, Sandy is so wonderful, the counsellor ends up falling in love with her, and, once she’s left school, she ends up ‘seeing’ him in a completely different sense. I prefer Sandy and Gregory to Tasia and Louise in Straight Talking, but it still doesn’t quite work because there doesn’t seem to be any point to it.

As usual, Cecelia Ahern has had a wonderful idea for a story: that all missing things and people go to another world, and that’s why some things will just never be found, like my copy of Rubber Rabbit. Sandy became interested in missing people as a child when the school bully Jenny-May went missing. As an adult, Sandy runs a missing persons agency. But there are some people who can’t be found – until Sandy suddenly ends up in the missing persons world herself.

We’ve all heard a lot about children going missing lately. One thing I really did like about this book was that Jenny-May wasn’t made out to be perfect. She wasn’t a nice person at all, and I respect Sandy for being able to admit that. I also respect Ahern for not making Jenny-May into the cutest little girl who ever existed. When kids go missing, it annoys me so much when people go on about how they must be found because they’re so beautiful, friendly, intelligent etc. So, if they are ugly, anti-social and stupid we shouldn’t look for then? Of course we should. Don’t look for them because they’re cute. Look for them because they’re someone’s baby.

Jenny-May was a bitch. She was horrible to Sandy. But she was still someone’s baby and Sandy still wanted to find her.

Unfortunately, this is Sandy’s only redeeming characteristic. I do sympathise with Sandy’s need to get away from people, and to spend most of her time on her own, but I’m sure it would have been possible for Ahern to make her seem a bit nicer. She doesn’t seem to care about anyone except herself and the missing people.

The book has some great moments. Some of it’s funny. But some parts just don’t work. Like when Sandy, on arriving in the missing persons world, pretends she runs an acting agency instead of a missing persons agency. This was to give her the chance to meet people she’s searched for, and tell them about their families during their ‘audition’, without them knowing her real job. When she suddenly finds herself putting on a play, it’s the perfect opportunity for her to learn something about the value of human companionship. But Sandy mostly pretends the play doesn’t exist. She’s not interested, so she lets everyone else do the work. Total unfairness. It’s very easy to lose interest in her after that.

Thanks for the Memories (Cecelia Ahern)***

Joyce’s father, the wonderfully characterised Henry, is doing a quiz, which asks which opera the famous words “Too many notes, Mozart” were describing. “Emperor Joseph II!” Joyce says instantly, and then wonders how she could possibly have known such a thing. It was indeed Emperor Joseph II who said it, but neither Joyce nor Henry seem to notice that the question actually asking for an opera title. There is some dispute about whether the opera in question was The Abduction from the Seraglio or The Marriage of Figaro - Figaro has more notes, but Seraglio was composed first, so the comment could have been made before Figaro came into existence. I’ll go along with The New Penguin Opera Guide and say it was Seraglio. But the answer is definitely not Emperor Joseph II.

The main part of the book is about the sudden feeling of connection between Joyce, who has suffered a miscarriage, and university lecturer Justin. Justin gives blood that is received by Joyce in hospital – and somehow she has accessed his knowledge and memories, and has become an expert on opera, art and languages, among other things. After you get over the sheer unreality of it, it becomes very sweet. There almost-meetings are quite amusing, and there’s a strong feeling that Joyce and Justin would get on well, and be very good for each other.

But they don’t meet, and then it all goes wrong. Suddenly, their interest in each other becomes obsessive and creepy. At this point, the story stops being a sweet romance, and becomes something much more disturbing. Joyce insists she is not stalking Justin, but that’s how it looks. While Justin is more restrained, he certainly breaks the law in his attempts to find Joyce.

I’m sure it’s possible to write a great book about a couple of people who are stalking one another. It’s also possible to write a great book about two people who are magically drawn to one another. The problem is, it’s probably impossible to do both in the same book. From a romance with an element of mystery, magic and, crucially, comedy – common themes in Ahern’s books: see also PS I Love You, A Place Like Here and particularly If You Could See Me Now – it becomes a disturbing psychological drama. I started off wanting Joyce and Justin to meet and get together, but after a while I wanted them to stay well away from each other.

***For a more positive (and brilliantly written) review of this book, visit Amy's blog Fairy Kisses***

Joyce and Justin are good characters in both halves of the book. In the first half, Joyce is lovely and patient and kind. Justin is absolutely adorable: intelligent in a geeky sort of way, but completely hopeless socially. In the second half, they are not unlikeable. There’s no reason why insane people shouldn’t be nice. Actually, some of the nicest people I’ve met have been insane. But you can’t change genre halfway through. Not like this anyway.

If You Could See Me Now (Cecelia Ahern)*****

Invisible friends are real! I always knew it and Cecelia Ahern proves it in this amazing book. It’s about Elizabeth, who is unsociable and works far too hard (just like Elisabeth in Seeing Me Naked and Elizabeth in An Absolute Scandal), her six year old nephew Luke, who is sweet if scarily self-contained (a bit like Luke in the Shopaholic books), and their invisible friend, Ivan.

Ivan is the perfect friend. He makes friends with children who are unhappy, and helps them to overcome their problems. I’m quite surprised it was published in a way. If any non-invisible men started hanging round children like that, they’d probably be arrested, but the last thing you’d call Ivan is a paedophile. He’s a bit like a child himself. He loves swivelly chairs. He loves sliding on the grass and playing with toy fire engines. And he doesn’t like playing with girls. In many ways, he’s more like a six year old than Luke is.

Elizabeth and Ivan don’t think much of each other at first. To Ivan, Elizabeth is no more than an uptight, bossy adult who refuses to believe he exists. To Elizabeth, Ivan is just her nephew’s invisible friend - something to be very concerned about, but not someone who actually exists. Even when she meets Ivan for herself, Elizabeth (not unsurprisingly) assumes that he’s the inspiration for Luke’s friend, rather than the man himself.

Both of them are emotionally stunted in their way. Elizabeth is closed off from caring about others – her parents and younger sister Saoirse have continually made her unhappy, and she has trouble expressing love towards Luke. Ivan lives in a platonic world where there appear to be no such things as romance and sex. While his experience and intelligence have taught him a lot about people, his outlook on life is childish in many ways. Slowly Elizabeth and Ivan begin to appreciate one another’s different qualities. Elizabeth needs to learn to relax and have fun, and there are times when even Ivan needs to take life seriously.

Few couples in fiction are more deserving of happiness. Elizabeth has been denied it for too long, and Ivan has never really thought about it before. Watching them fall in love is great because you can see exactly what’s happening, but they don’t do it in the normal, boring, conventional way. They’re not boring, normal, conventional people, and one of the strengths of this book is that they never lose their individuality. But, as with any storybook romance, there are problems to be overcome.

One reason I love the book is because a lot of the characters all seem to be a bit autistic, like me. Elizabeth is isolated and unsociable, and has trouble with the concept of games, particularly imaginary ones (I love imaginary games, but that’s supposed to be unusual). She doesn’t feel comfortable with the idea of friendships because of the time and effort it’s going to take. (It can be a serious mental effort to remember all the conversational conventions that don’t come naturally. Friendship can still be very rewarding, but an acquaintance based on nothing but proximity is mentally exhausting.) The people whose friendship Elizabeth appreciates are those who might sometimes endeavour to change her views, but nevertheless show respect for her as an individual.

Ivan is immature for an adult (like me), although at times he can look at things in a logical and detached way (also an autistic trait). He’s pretty much asexual (me too, probably: I love flirting, but genitals are pretty disgusting, aren’t they?), and his interest in Elizabeth all the more moving because he obviously isn’t after a shag. Even though Ivan is in the business of making friends and supporting people, the friendships only last for as long as the support is needed, and after that there’s no further contact. In some ways, Ivan’s relationships are more like doctor/patient relationships than genuine friendships. Once the person he is helping is feeling better, they no longer see Ivan – literally as well as figuratively, so the task is clearly completed, and it’s time to move on. If I was like Ivan, I could play lots of games to get to know people instead of faffing about with all this adult ‘how are you, I’m fine’ business which seems a bit pointless when you’re supposed to say you’re fine whether you are or not. The people with whom Ivan forms friendships are children like Luke and similarly struggling adults like Elizabeth and Saoirse, neither of whom socialise on a typical adult level (Luke comes closest), and also the people in his own world, where his motives and feelings are always understood. It is likely they wouldn’t be understood by most adults, who would naturally be very concerned about this strange man hanging around the kids, and they would probably find his playful language inappropriate because it doesn’t follow normal conversational rules.

Saoirse has acquaintances that come and go, but no obvious friendships, Elizabeth appearing to be the only constant in her life. Some might see Saoirse as mistrustful and aggressive, but maybe she’s just very desperate and needy, yet without the social confidence to be able to express that she needs help. To me, she seems more like someone who doesn’t understand people than someone who hates them. It’s never explained why Saoirse can see Ivan – until meeting Elizabeth, the only people to have seen him were the children he was helping – but I suspect it’s because Saoirse is quite seriously emotionally stunted as well, as well as being undeniably in need of help. Saoirse has given birth to Luke, but has failed to bond with him. It seems to me as though it’s her constant inability to understand the world that leads her to behave so badly – and to be able to see Ivan. The one weakness of the book is that Saoirse’s storyline is never resolved, but a number of flashbacks help you to see how life has gone so wrong for Saoirse (and Elizabeth), despite all Elizabeth’s attempts to look after her. Saoirse could have been the villain character, but she seems more unhappy, confused and lost than horrible. Not that I’d want her turning up drunk at my house, but, as a character, I love her.

The story is mostly told from Elizabeth’s point of view and Ivan’s, but occasionally we see Elizabeth as others see her. Unusually, some of the sections from Ivan’s point of view are told in the third person, and some in the first person. It’s not clear why, but it does work quite well. Most of the time, the first person sections are when Ivan addresses the reader directly – it’s almost as though the whole book is in the third person, and the first person sections are effectively in speech marks. If the sections had had actual speech marks, the book might well have seemed clumsier – speech marks can become quite confusing where the speaker starts recounting conversations – and in a way speech marks could have had a distancing effect because writers don’t use speech marks as a rule when addressing their readers.

This book shows you that there is more to love than sex. That you can learn from other people, including those who are different from you. That it’s okay to be a bit different, but it is possible learn the things you want to learn, however impossible they seem. And, above all, that there is nothing wrong with having invisible friends. Because most of them are real anyway.

PS I Love You (Cecelia Ahern)**

PS I Love You is not only a successful novel, but also a successful film. Cecelia Ahern’s first novel was highly acclaimed, and it is certainly a novel of great originality, with just the right amount of tragedy to get Hollywood interested. But it’s not that good.

The idea of it, while certainly very sentimental, is actually really interesting. Holly is grieving after losing her husband Gerry to a brain tumour. She discovers that, before he died, he wrote her a number of letters. She opens one each month, and this helps her to heal.

But the problem is that neither Holly nor Gerry seems very nice. Holly seems more self-indulgent than truly unhappy. And, while grief can certainly affect changes in people’s personalities, it is difficult to see Holly as part of a threesome with the wonderfully mad Sharon and Denise. There are a few flashbacks to what is supposed to be a glimpse of a fun-loving Holly, but all we really know is that she enjoys herself a lot when she’s drunk.

The way Holly treats her elder brother Richard is dreadful. Okay, she grows to understand him during the course of the book, but I was wondering all the way through what Holly’s problem was. Yes, Richard is not terribly sociable, but it doesn’t seem as though he actually dislikes people. He just feels uncomfortable in social situations, which is more than understandable given the way that Holly laughs at him. I think he’s a lovely man.

Then there’s a bit later in the book where Holly passes off her colleague Alice’s work as her own. It’s absolutely dreadful, and I really can’t blame Alice for ignoring her after that. I was hoping that Holly had secretly told her boss the truth, and that this was going to be a great opportunity for Alice, who is a really sweet girl, but I didn’t know Holly well enough to know if she was going to do the right thing or not. All I was sure of was that she can be a selfish bitch.

Gerry has obviously gone to a lot of trouble in order to write the notes, which probably wasn’t easy for him given his illness. He needed to be able to leave the house without Holly’s noticing (which, unfortunately, makes you wonder how attentive Holly really was), so you have to admire his perseverance. But he’s such a bossy know-it-all, and that’s just not attractive.

Gerry is someone who thinks he always knows best. The notes he writes to Holly tell her what to do with her life each month. She’s never that much into his ideas, but she goes along with them anyway, and he’s always right. Maybe if I’d known he was right as soon as the note was opened, it would have been okay. It would have been better still if I’d kind of formed the same conclusions about Holly’s needs just from reading about her and how she was feeling. But Gerry’s ideas just seemed to come out of nowhere, and it’s just annoying. If it had turned out that Holly had strangled him to death, I wouldn’t have liked her any better - murderesses are even worse than insipid lumps - but I’d have understood why she wanted to.

While the characterisations in PS I Love You aren’t nearly as strong as those in Ahern’s later novels, particularly the wonderful If You Could See Me Now, there are still many promising characters. Richard is great. Then we have Holly’s hilarious friend Sharon – stupid and annoying at times, not to mention embarrassing, but a really nice person, with admirable warmth and patience where Holly is concerned. Daniel, who spends his time falling in love with and getting bossed about by the female characters, is just the kind of drip I like. Holly’s sister Ciara is adorable - wayward and independent but somehow very innocent. Ciara is a character I’d love to read more about. Her Australian travels sound fascinating. What’s more, they take place on the other side of the world from Holly.