APRIL RISING

A quirky first novel, teetering on the edge of silliness, that nevertheless offers an incisive look at family relationships. Though she hadn’t contacted her family in the two years she’d been tramping around Europe, Ellen Kaplan expects the welcome due to a returning only daughter. But somebody is sleeping in her bed. Her parents barely notice her arrival. Potato chips have replaced the usual health food in the kitchen cabinets. Aliens have not taken over her upper-crust family—April has. Big brother James has found himself a girlfriend and brought her home to stay. Yet behind April’s Goldilocks veneer, Ellen knows she’s evil: She’s convinced James to drop out of his Ph.D. program at Berkeley, turned Ellen’s parents against her, and transformed their quiet home into a Pennsylvania version of Hee Haw. Worse, everyone loves April and her simpleminded charm. She’s got to go. Though, by the reaction of the elder Kaplans, it seems Ellen will be the one to leave. Convinced his daughter returned to the homestead only for money, Ellen’s father strikes a deal—write an article for the local paper, thereby putting an expensive degree to use, and Ellen will get enough cash to resume European unemployment. So she begins her twin projects, the uncovering of small-town corruption and the ousting of April, both of which prove harder than she imagined. Local billionaire Eamon Grosworthy may be selling his nature preserve to LandDevel, which plans to erect a virtual shantytown in posh Philmont. But far more disagreeable than crackpot Grosworthy shooting at her is the realization she really likes April. Ellen recognizes it has been she who’s alienated her family for years, selfishly assuming they’d always remain the same. The slightly absurd turn of events that leads to Ellen and April’s happy ending is entirely forgivable—Lemaåtre’s sly wit ensures that. An equal mix of wacky humor and pathos—and an amiable first effort.