View from Mount Joy

( 17 )

Overview

When teenage hockey player Joe Andreson and his widowed mother move to Minneapolis, Joe falls under the seductive spell of Kristi Casey, Ole Bull High’s libidinous head cheerleader. Joe balances Kristi’s lustful manipulation with the down-to-earth companionship of his smart, platonic girlfriend, Darva. But it is Kristi who will prove to be a temptation (and torment) throughout Joe’s life.

Years later, Joe can’t believe that life has deposited him in the aisles of Haugland Foods....

See more details below
Paperback (Reprint)
$12.44
BN.com price
(Save 11%)$14.00 List Price

Pick Up In Store

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (71) from $1.99   
  • New (11) from $1.99   
  • Used (60) from $1.99   
View from Mount Joy

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK Study
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$9.99
BN.com price

Overview

When teenage hockey player Joe Andreson and his widowed mother move to Minneapolis, Joe falls under the seductive spell of Kristi Casey, Ole Bull High’s libidinous head cheerleader. Joe balances Kristi’s lustful manipulation with the down-to-earth companionship of his smart, platonic girlfriend, Darva. But it is Kristi who will prove to be a temptation (and torment) throughout Joe’s life.

Years later, Joe can’t believe that life has deposited him in the aisles of Haugland Foods. But he soon learns that being a grocer is like being the mayor of a small town: His constituents confide astonishing things and always appreciate Joe’s generous dispensing of the milk of human kindness. The path Kristi has charged down, on the other hand, is as wild as Joe’s is tame. But who has really risked more? Who has lived more? And who is truly happy? As Joe discovers, sometimes people are lucky enough to be standing in the one place where the view of the world is breathtaking, if only they’ll open their eyes to all there is to see.

Praise for The View from Mount Joy:

“A delightful journey . . . full of humor and poignancy and the potential for joy in everyday life.”
–The Charlotte Observer

“Deeply satisfying . . . Bursting with the same deliciously deadpan dialogue that is now a Landvik trademark . . . [The View from Mount Joy provides] quite possibly Landvik’s most lovable character to date.”
–Minneapolis Star Tribune

“Pervaded by the same tenderness readers loved in Landvik’s other books The View from Mount Joy . . . Should inspire interesting book club discussions.”
St. Paul Pioneer Press

“[Landvik] has an easy, engaging narrative style laced with humor.”
–The Boston Globe

“Landvik’s latest homespun homage is pure bliss.”
–Booklist

NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY ST. PAUL PIONEER PRESS

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
By 1972, when he graduated high school, Joe shared one thing with nearly all his male classmates: He had a crush on head cheerleader Kristi Casey. However, unlike the others, lucky Joe had actually briefly dated this nimble heartbreaker. Graduation snapped any romantic connection between them; but now, decades later, still unmarried, Joe nurses wistful memories of Kristi as he tends to his grocery business. Meanwhile Casey, now a winsome born-again televangelist, is ramping up for her first her presidential run. Lorna Landvik's novel manages to swerve smoothly between bathos and pathos. A nice light read.
From the Publisher
Praise for Lorna Landvik

Oh My Stars

“Landvik is a national treasure whose writing packs a folksy, storytelling punch. . . . The personalities that populate the pages of Depression-era Oh My Stars feel . . . like fast friends. . . . And oh my stars but how [these] pages do fly by!”
–Minneapolis Star Tribune

“Utterly charming.”
–Cleveland Plain Dealer

Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons

“Highly entertaining . . . almost as hard to put down [as] Mary McCarthy’s The Group.”
–The Seattle Times

“It is impossible not to get caught up in the lives of the book group members. . . . Landvik’s gift lies in bringing these familiar women to life with insight and humor.”
–The Denver Post

Welcome to the Great Mysterious

“Funny, heartwarming . . . admirably captures the ups and downs of a small town from the humorous perspective of a big-city star.”
–Publishers Weekly

“Geneva is a lovable star who grows in surprising ways.”
–The Orlando Sentinel

From the Hardcover edition.

Publishers Weekly

Narrator Robertson Dean strikes the perfect note in the first-person role of Joe, a high school hockey star whose life throws him several unexpected curveballs that land him in a very different place from where he'd always imagined. While his life didn't turn out as planned, he gradually realizes that maybe he's exactly where he's supposed to be. As the adult Joe looking back over his life, Dean tells the story in a pitch-perfect ironic, self-deprecating tone that conveys simultaneously Joe's complex mix of vulnerability, cynicism and hope. Dean doesn't create actual character voices, but he conveys the personalities and emotions so well that the listener is completely drawn into the story. He's particularly good at popular, manipulative Kristi, a high school cheerleader turned radio evangelist and Joe's on-again, off-again lover. The abridgment of this engaging and believable story is seamless. Simultaneous release with the Ballantine hardcover (Reviews, May 7). (Nov.)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Library Journal

In 1971, high school senior Joe Anderson moves to Minnesota with his widowed mother. Joe is a wonderful young man who plays hockey and piano, works in the local grocery, and is nice to his mother. So what's his flaw? He is attracted to Kristi Casey, the wildly fun cheerleader who is every boy's fantasy and who introduces Joe to oral sex, marijuana, and acid trips. As Joe moves through life from high school to adulthood and marriage, Kristi is always there to tempt him, even when she becomes an evangelist. Landvik is a wonderful storyteller, and Joe is an attractive character, perhaps too good to be true. However, some of the book club readers and fans who enjoyed Landvik's other novels (e.g., Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons) may be uncomfortable with the sex and drugs and Kristi's hypocritical life as an evangelist and the wife of a politician. As long as librarians understand that this new work is more explicit than Landvik's previous novels, this is recommended for most public libraries.
—Lesa M. Holstine

Kirkus Reviews
A pleasing character study following the life of Joe Andreson, from his misadventures in high school to reflective middle age. Although Joe narrates his tale, it is a story dominated by women, from his kind-hearted, widowed mother and his sophisticated lesbian aunt Beth (the three live together, gathering around the piano to sing show tunes) to the two young women who shape his adult life-Kristi Casey and Darva Pratt. In high school, Kristi is the golden girl-head cheerleader, honor student, feared and revered by all who come in contact with her ferocious smile. At turns cruel and alluring, Kristi takes a shine to Joe and the two have trysts in the AV room, a secret kept from Kristi's boyfriend. Joe even keeps it from his best friend Darva, a gifted artist and bourgeoning bohemian with plans to escape 1970s Minneapolis for Paris. Darva does go to Paris, while Joe goes to college on a hockey scholarship. Kristi and Joe meet from time to time in rural motels, but their relationship is little more than a strange mix of Kristi's confessions and impersonal sex. After graduation Kristi disappears, Joe inherits a grocery store and Darva returns from Europe, with tiny Flora in her arms. Though they maintain a platonic relationship, Darva and Joe live together and raise Flora, as Joe makes a success out of the market, thanks to his idiosyncratic approach to business. Meanwhile, Kristi reappears on the air as a right-wing evangelist doling out moral platitudes to her radio listeners. Joe and company are shocked by Kristi's new persona, and yet the girl most likely to succeed at any cost still has a few surprises left for the folks back home. Most of Joe's story is a real charmer-the questioning,sex-obsessed teen, the slightly lost 30 year old-but as the story creeps past middle age, Landvik (Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons, 2003, etc.) seems to tire, and the narrative wraps up with the expected closing events. Warmhearted (if a bit uneven) tale of a sensitive man's journey through life.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345468383
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 9/30/2008
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 384
  • Sales rank: 782,706
  • Product dimensions: 5.20 (w) x 7.90 (h) x 0.90 (d)

Meet the Author

Lorna Landvik is the bestselling author of Patty Jane’s House of Curl, Your Oasis on Flame Lake, The Tall Pine Polka, Welcome to the Great Mysterious, Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons, and Oh My Stars. Married and the mother of two daughters, she is also an actor, playwright, and dog park attendee with the handsome Julio.

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Standing at the urinal, I read the first graffiti to mar the freshly scrubbed wall of the school bathroom: Viet Nam sucks and Kristi Casey is a stone fox. In the fall of 1971, I was a senior new to Ole Bull High, and while I had formed judgments as to the former (I agreed, the war did suck), I had no idea who Kristi Casey was and whether or not she was a fox, stone or not. When I met her it only took a nanosecond to realize: Man, is she ever.

From my perch on the top row of the football bleachers, I used to watch her and the other cheerleaders, their short pleated skirts fanning out as they sprang into the air, screaming at the Bulls to “go, fight, win!” as if the continuation of human civilization depended on their victory. The late sixties still bled its influence into the early seventies, and many of us considered ourselves too hip in a mellow make-love-not-war way to look at those bouncing, pom-pom- punching, red-faced girls without thinking, Man, are they pathetic. Except, of course, for Kristi. Every time she tossed her dark blond hair, cut in a shag like Jane Fonda’s in Klute, every time she bent down to pull up a flagging crew sock, every time she offered up a sly dimpled smile, it was as if she’d handed us our own personal box of Cracker Jack, with a special surprise inside. She was the kind of girl who could do uncool things like act as secretary for the Future Farmers of America after-school club or solicit funds for Unicef during lunch hour (she told me having a wide range of interests looked good on college applications) and the consensus would still be: Wow.

Darva Pratt was not part of the consensus and, in fact, loathed Kristi Casey and all that she stood for.

“Look at her,” said Darva, as if I needed prodding. It was during halftime, and as the marching band played the theme song to Hawaii Five-O, Kristi kept time on a bass drum she had strapped over her shoulders. “God forbid the band steal some of her spotlight.”

After they played the bridge, the band quieted, playing two notes over and over as Kristi began a rhythmic duel with the band’s official bass drummer. She pounded out an uncomplicated beat, which the bass drummer answered. The crowd cheered, and then it was the drummer’s turn. His was a more complicated rhythm, which Kristi echoed, no problem. The crowd cheered again. This went on, the fans growing wilder as each drummer’s challenge increased in speed and difficulty. Finally Kristi beat out a tempo so intricate, so tricky, that after a few beats her challenger threw down his mallets and bowed deeply, his long furry hat practically sweeping the ground. Flashing her bright, white smile, Kristi held up her arms in victory as the crowd exploded, the drum major signaled, and the band played the last measures of the song at full volume.

“Wow,” I said after we had all sat down. “That girl can drum.”

“Of course she can,” said Darva. “She’s our golden girl.”

I laughed. “Jealous?”

Now it was Darva’s turn to laugh. “Yes. It’s my lifelong desire to be the wet dream of hundreds of high school boys.”

“Language, Darva,” I said, putting a little gasp of shock in my voice. “Language.”

The third quarter began, and we sat in the bleachers, warmed by the mild autumn sun, watching the game. Under a great bowlful of blue sky, the trees themselves cheered us on, waving their maroon and gold leaves in the breeze and dislodging a squad of crows who cawed their cheers; it was as if all of nature was throwing a pep rally for a bunch of high school kids. I shut my eyes and raised my face to that solar warmth, but my respite lasted only a moment before Darva’s sharp elbow found purchase in my lower ribs.

“Look at what your girlfriend’s doing now.”

Some schools are named after presidents or astronauts. Ours honored a nineteenth-century Norwegian violinist and our mascot was a furry bull. I opened my eyes to see Kristi, chasing it along the sidelines.

Darva made a tsking sound. “When it comes to high school girls, I thought the bar was set pretty low, but man, she knocks it over.”

“You’re a high school girl.”

“A status that will be changed tomorrow, when I hop a train to Sandusky, Ohio.”

“What’s in Sandusky?”

Darva’s eyes squinted behind her lavender-tinted glasses. “Oh, sand. Some dusk.”

Every day Darva made plans to escape to “anywhere but here,” sometimes to great and faraway cities and other times to Podunk and its many counterparts. She claimed every hour spent in high school caused the death of a million innocent brain cells and that she could no longer be a participant in their slaughter.

“Write me when you get there, okay?” I said, nudging her shoulder with my own, and we watched as the Washburn Millers trounced the Bulls 37–6.

A transfer student, I was grateful that Darva had befriended me the first day of school.

“What have you got?” she asked, sliding her lunch tray onto the table as she sat across from me. “An infectious disease?”

Looking around the empty table, I scratched my head. “Yeah, malaria. I picked it up on leave in Da Nang.”

The girl laughed. “I personally like boys who’ve seen war before they’ve graduated high school. Gives them a certain maturity.”

She pressed the edges of her milk carton apart and then forward, opening up a little spout.

“By the way, malaria’s not contagious.”

“What are you, Albert Schweitzer?”

“Darva Pratt,” she said, holding up her milk carton.

“Joe Andreson,” I said, and clinked her carton with my own, toasting my first friend at Ole Bull High.

It was a friendship that would have consequences.

“What’re you hanging around with that freak for?” asked Todd Randolph, whose locker was next to mine.

I spun the dial of my combination lock. “What freak?”

“That freak,” said Todd, gesturing at Darva, who, with her dangly earrings and ropes of love beads and bracelets, fairly jingled as she continued walking down the hallway to her own locker. “That hippie chick. She doesn’t even wear a bra, man.”

I didn’t say anything but looked pointedly at the chubby-girl breasts revealed underneath his snagged Ban Lon shirt.

Todd Randolph flushed. “Fuck you.”

“Todd, buddy,” I said, clapping him on the back, “I’m flattered, but really—no thanks.”

Like any other high school, Ole Bull High had a tightly controlled clique system, but I just couldn’t be bothered with it. This is not to say I was above all that crap; not only had I had a fair amount of prestige at my old school, I’d enjoyed it. I was not the king, like Steve Alquist, whose letter jacket sleeves barely had room for all his award insignias, but I was at least in the court, and I took pleasure in all its privileges. I was a part of everything that mattered—but everything that mattered was now two hundred miles away.

“No,” I said when my mother told me we were moving. “No, I’m not going. No way. Forget about it.”

“Joe,” said my mother, her eyes tearing up, which never failed to make me cave in just to stop them. “Joe, I know all your friends are here, and your team . . . but I need you. I can’t make it here anymore, and I can’t make it in Minneapolis without you.”

She wouldn’t have had to “make it” anywhere had my father not gone off and gotten himself killed in the stupid Cessna of stupid Miles Milnar, who was Granite Creek’s big-shot developer (“We’re going to turn this hick town into a resort haven!”) and my dad’s best friend. Their last view of anything was probably the soybean field they were about to crash into; Miles Milnar never got to see Granite Creek become “the next Aspen” (the jerk—didn’t he consider our lack of mountains a slight disadvantage?), and my dad never got to see me graduate from the eighth grade. I suppose it’s lousy to lose your dad at any age, but to lose him at fourteen seemed especially cruel; here I was on the cusp of manhood (my voice cracking like spring ice, the rogue hair sprouting on my chin) with no man to pull me up, clap me on the back, and welcome me into the club. For a while there, I really thought I was going to die from the pain of it. Or the anger.

Things never got back to the way they had been, but eventually my mom stopped crying all the time, I stopped thinking I was going to explode, and a new normalcy crept into the house I’d grown up in. And now she was willing to throw away that normalcy we’d worked so hard to cobble together.

“Just tell her you’re not going!” said Steve Alquist at the kegger that was my going-away party.

“Yeah, you could stay at my house,” said Gary Conroy, who’d played D with me since we were pee wees. “She can’t break up the team like that!”

“You could come to my house for supper,” said Jamie Jensen, my might- be girlfriend. (“Might-be” because she’d just broken up with Dan Powers and we’d been hovering around each other, waiting for someone to make a move.) “I’ve got to cook two dinners a week for my 4-H project . . . and my lasagna’s pretty good.”

“I’ll bet it is,” I said, and because I was a little drunk, I reacted to the internal voice that hollered, It’s now or never, stupid! by leaning over and kissing her. That she kissed me back almost made me feel worse than I already did.

But as bummed out as I was about leaving Granite Creek, I couldn’t not go. It was a close call, but I figured in the scheme of things, my mother needed me to go with her more than I needed to stay.

“You owe me big-time,” I said as we loaded up the rental truck a week after school got out.

“I know I do, Joe. And I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you; I promise I will.”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me,” I said, the gruffness in my voice a fence holding back my emotions.

She sniffed. “I love you, Joey.”

It seems there’s been a shift in the family hierarchy; nowadays parents do everything for their kids. If junior’s an athlete, his parents enroll him in expensive clinics and traveling teams and easily transfer him to a different school to give him a better playing opportunity. Hell, when we played, lots of parents didn’t even come to regular games, saving their appearances for tournaments or playoffs. Not that we minded—our parents weren’t on us the way parents are on kids now. But conversely, it was understood that in the family’s decision making, the adults were the captains and the kids were second string, if they were even allowed on the team.

But all I knew as we drove through our shady neighborhood was: My life as I know it is ending!

My mother must have picked up my telepathically transmitted howl, because when she spoke again, her voice was bright and cheery. It was that sort of bright and cheery that reeks of fakeness, but when it came to my mom, I’d take fakeness over tears any day.

“You’ll see, Joey—it’s going to be great living in a city! It’ll be one adventure after another!”

“Sure it will, Ma,” I said, and just as we turned off Main Street toward the freeway, I looked at the marquis of the Paramount movie theater. Play Misty for Me was showing, and I could imagine the crowd— my crowd—that would see it that night; could imagine the insults they’d yell at the screen if the dialogue was lame; could imagine the perturbed “shh!” they’d get from other patrons as they passed Hot Tamales and jujubes down the row, rattling the boxes like maracas; could imagine how I might kiss Jamie Jensen and how she would taste like buttered popcorn.

It wasn’t until we were on the freeway, heading south, that I realized how much my jaw hurt, how I was clenching my teeth so hard that I thought they might crumble in their sockets. How could “one adventure after another” even compare to Play Misty for Me showing at the Paramount?

My aunt Beth lived in a house by Lake Nokomis, and my bedroom had a window the morning sun blared into, slapping me in the face and shouting, Wake up!

“Well, honey, just pull the shade,” advised my mother when I told her how I couldn’t sleep past dawn in that room.

“As long as you’re getting up so early, why don’t you go down to Haugland’s?” said my aunt Beth, refilling my coffee cup. (She had assumed without asking that I liked coffee, and to my surprise, I found I did.) “I know they’re hiring down there.”

“Maybe I will,” I said, heaping a spoonful of jam on my toast. My aunt had a pantry full of fancy stuff she ordered from specialty catalogs—cylinders of German cookies, imported tins of fish, French pâtés, Swedish candies, and jars of fancy English curds and jams that emptied a lot faster now that we were living with her. But that was the cool thing—well, one of the cool things—about my aunt Beth: she never made me or my mother feel like we were slumming. To her we were guests she couldn’t believe it was her good fortune to host. I knew she wanted me to work so I’d get out of the house—but in a good way.

“It’s the best way to meet people,” she said. “Haugland’s is right by the lake, and it’s swarming with kids in the summer.”

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Reading Group Guide

1. Do you think Joe and Darva secretly yearned for a relationship with each other? Can a strictly platonic relationship such as theirs occur in real life?

2. How much of Joe’s life and personality was shaped by the loss of his father at such a young age?

3. Who has lived a more fulfilling life–Joe, with his simple, quiet life, or Kristi, with her adventurous life in the spotlight?

4. Did Joe give up on his hockey dreams too easily? Was he being cowardly and taking the easy road?

5. Do you applaud Kristi’s ambitious nature and her refusal to let her dreams get away from her?

6. Joe and Kristi seem to be fated to cross paths time and time again. What is their fascination with each other?

7. It’s obvious that the women in Joe’s life greatly influenced him, but how did his relationships with the men in his life shape him?

8. Was it fair for Lorna Landvik to feed into the typical cheerleader stereotypes?

9. Does Kristi mistake power and fame for happiness? Is she capable of being truly happy?

10. If Darva had not died, do you think Joe would have found happiness? Would he have stayed unmarried, living with his best friend and her daughter?

11. All of the characters experience happiness, tragedy, failures, and successes. Do you think The View from Mount Joy realistically portrays the progression of a life?

12. Did Kristi really love Tuck or did she love the fame that life with him would bring?

13. Jenny, the love of Joe’s life, plays a minor role in the book, compared to Darva and Kristi. Why do you think Lorna Landvik does this?

14. Is Joe a believable narrator? Would you have rather had both Kristi and Joe narrate the story?

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 17 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(4)

4 Star

(8)

3 Star

(3)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(2)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing all of 17 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 6, 2007

    Oh Joy, It's A New Lorna to Enjoy!

    I laughed, laughed again, laughed louder and longer as the book raced by. Please don't let it stop, I want this story to go on indefinitely! Lorna Landvik's latest is a true laugh riot, except when it's poignantly sad and a bit heartbreaking. Now, I admit I'm a card-carrying member of the Lorna fan club dating back to Patty Jane's House of Curl but her latest rivals Angry Housewives as the best yet. As the story opens, we're all back in high school in the early 1970s. I don't know about anyone else, but I'd swear Lorna and I must have been in the same class doing the same insane things. How did we ever survive unscathed? Book clubs who have enjoyed Landvik's earlier works will find much to discuss in Mount Joy -- religion, politics, family, friends, food, travel and children all abound. Finally, I really want to shop at Joe's grocery to win a contest, view Darva's art, have a tea party with Flora and hate Kristi and every other high school girl just like her. Terrific cast of characters that we've come to expect from Ms. Landvik. Don't miss the reference to Patty Jane and the description of the waitresses at diNapoli! I couldn't read this fast enough and I hated to see it end. Now I'm already waiting again!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 19, 2013

    Recommend

    If you like Lorna Landvik you won't be disappointed with this offering. An interesting story with some twists and surprises. The end just sort of ended, but that's often what happens when you get involved in a story. A fun read all around.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 12, 2012

    My book club loved it!

    While a few of us thought it started off a little slow, we all agreed that this was a great book. Wonderful story line, great characters, all in the fabulous style of Lorna Landvik!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted October 31, 2011

    Loved it!

    One of my favorite books..

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted May 22, 2010

    Lorna Landvik does it again!

    I love Lorna Landvik's writing and this novel did not disappoint in that area. While I did not love the Kristi character, I did like the others. I think it would be a great book club read!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 19, 2008

    Very Disappointing!

    I have read and loved all of Lorna's books EXCEPT this one! View from Mount Joy was so disappointing! I hope this book was more of a fluke than a new style of writing she will be adapting! She has always been able to make the characters come to life without such trash talk and graphic negative behaviors. I have purchased copies of her other books for friends and they have loved them but will NOT be purchasing another copy or recommending Mount Joy! I do NOT recommend this book.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 27, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 25, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 4, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 28, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 29, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 2, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 12, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 12, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 28, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 16, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted June 8, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing all of 17 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)