Ruth's in-laws manage a cranberry farm, and while this is far from anything the bereaved mother has known, she decides to stay awhile. Her insecurity and lack of knowledge about customs are easily overcome by helping women make apple pies, helping men feed Clydesdales; all cousins and neighbours of her husband. The children Sophie and Vi need time and peace, and she has no idea how she would support them in the world of work. But maybe she doesn't have to. The boggy ground and cranberry harvest can always do with more hands. In particular, Chandler's first cousins Laurie and Elam make the family welcome. Laurie demonstrates the secrets of baking, while Elam is very shy but his presence is reassuring. As a further tragedy, Chandler senior was killed in the same blast, and his widow Mabel is also here trying to make herself feel useful.

Interspersed we get letters six years old. The slums of Bogota are rife with inequality, and Chandler's public service job pays just enough to keep the family. I confess I didn't read these closely; they're in italics, which are hard on the eyes, and since I knew the outcome I was more interested in the present story. But it turns out, that story hasn't ended.

I learned a great deal about cranberry farming and wet or dry harvesting, the uses for the crop and so on. Author Jolina Petersheim tells us that she researched the story in person. And then I had to visualise the women workers with white kaaps on their heads, hear the jingle of the horse harness, the glug, and swish of water, feel the ache and strain of shoulders working rakes and baskets for a long day. After all that, the good folks have a party; in a barn, scented with cedar, beeswax, and bread. For anyone who enjoys a women's fiction story full of atmosphere, culture contrast, and emotions, I can't think of a better book to read than HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN. Just as, if someone had suffered the kind of shattering loss described, I can't think of many better places to retreat to while their heart and soul mended.

Book Summary