"THE LAST BEACH BUNGALOW" by Jennie Nash (C)

There are many ways that a novel can grab you with the promise of something enticing to be found between its covers. But how to find the favored one among so many? Choices, choices, so many choices to be made. The impossibility of reading more than just a few of any favored genre demands that we must be selective. After all, our time is too precious to waste on a novel that turns out to be less than what it appears to have been.

What is it that will make us pick one book over another? In an earlier review I mentioned a segment on a recent CBS Sunday Morning News program which delved into this very thought. An author and his publisher were shown agonizing over possible titles and various jacket designs in an attempt to make his book a little more marketable.

I suppose that every little improvement could be helpful. It could be the cover with a design that invites further inquiry. It could be the short introductory verbiage inside the dust cover that is always written in a laudatory style. It could also include a cursory peak at the first few pages.

It is usually all of the above for me. The title, followed by a quick read of the inside covers, and then a peremptory glance at the first few pages to ascertain the author's writing style. Reading those first few pages can be critical in the decision making process. Some of the best books that I have ever read started off with a literary "bang" by featuring writing so solid that I was instantly drawn into the plot.

Others have even captured my interest with the opening paragraph. Perhaps the most famous example of this is the beginning of Daphne Du Maurier's classic novel, "Rebecca," which later became one of Alfred Hitchcock's greatest movies. That incredible beginning, once read, is never to be forgotten. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again..."

"The Last Beach Bungalow" by Jennie Nash had a much easier time of it in grabbing my attention. The title said it all; it spoke to me like nothing else. I had to read this book. Each word spoke to me. Bungalow - Who is there who doesn't love the romance of a bungalow? Something warm and cozy and ever so inviting comes to my mind's eye with the very word. Beach - Better yet, for now this romantic little bungalow is located on a beach somewhere. Haven't we all dreamed of having just such a thing?

And then there is that modifying and sadly descriptive word, "Last." The last one, the only one left. There must have been more, but what happened to them? How sad! Were they destroyed in a storm or, worse yet, gobbled up by greedy developers? Did all of that history and all of that romance end up in dumpsters with the bungalows torn down, no doubt to be replaced by grotesque McMansions with no history and no charm?

We have all seen this everywhere we have vacationed and now we see the same tear down craze happening in the towns where we live. History is disappearing before our eyes because too many people have decided that they can't possibly have a satisfactory lifestyle in a 2,000 square foot home, so it must be torn down to make way for a 12,000 square foot mega-monster. Faux castles are littering the landscape. Lost somewhere is the sustainability of these architectural canker sores and the desirability of learning to live by using less of the Earth's resources, but there you have it.

Yes, the title of Nash's book fascinated me and angered me in equal measure. I had to find out the story behind the title. The premise as explained on the back cover is even more intriguing: An elderly woman offers her Redondo Beach beach bungalow for sale far below its market value to any person who writes the best essay on why he or she will love and care for her home of more than fifty years. All of the other homes on her street have already been torn down and replaced by McMansions.

Much seems to be promised in this story, but, sad to say, "there is no there there." This novel is far less than what it appears to be, what I had hoped that it would be. While written pleasantly enough, it is more of a personal diary than a novel. It also strikes me as being an exercise in therapy for Ms. Nash, since both she and April Newton, her protagonist, are similarly aged cancer survivors. This suggests that April is more of an alter ego than anything else.

I only wish that there had been more meat behind the title and that ever so intriguing premise. This novel describes at a leisurely pace the slow transformation of a cancer survivor with a troubled outlook to one of contentment. Winning her battle against cancer is only the prelude to a deeper and more subtle battle in her mind now that the horrifying prospect of imminent death has been vanquished.

More disappointing still is the fact that the bungalow in the title only tangentially intersects with the life of April Newton and her search for wholeness. I hope that you will understand my profound disappointment after reading my extensive analysis of a title that had promised much but in reality ended up delivering very little.

This novel is reasonably well written, but my take on it is that it is a case of false advertising if you go by the title and the dust jacket descriptions. Perhaps that title was picked by the publisher looking to boost sales. I am reminded of an instance many years ago where my wife and I rented a house, sight unseen, that was advertised as being a waterfront property. In another case of false advertising, the house was found not only not to be on the waterfront, it was in fact located across a state highway, up a road, and on top of a hill about a quarter of a mile away. The spurious claim to its being classified as beach front property came from the ownership of a separate 10 foot section of shoreline. Needless to say, we moved elsewhere for the rest of our vacation. You may wish to do the same with this book. 2008, Berkley Publishing Group, 265 pages.