The Love Story of Missy Carmichael by Beth Morrey

The Love Story of Missy Carmichael by Beth Morrey – 352 pages/Audio

ARC from G.P. Putnam for an honest review.

Book Blurb:

he world has changed around Missy Carmichael. At seventy-nine, she’s estranged from her daughter, her son and only grandson live across the world in Australia, and her great love is gone. Missy spends her days with a sip of sherry, scrubbing the kitchen in her big empty house and reliving her past–though it’s her mistakes, and secrets, that she allows to shine brightest. The last thing Missy expects is for two perfect strangers and one spirited dog to break through her prickly exterior and show Missy just how much love she still has to give.

My Review: 4 stars

Click here to order on Amazon

Delightful is the best one-word description would give to The Love Story of Missy Carmichael. Nothing is more inspiring than reading about an elderly woman who finding herself at long last. And even better, it’s when a dog enters her life that the tables start turning and the domino effect begins.

There seems to be a new trend of books that star a cantankerous older person and how they find their way to happiness. With so many books out like this, the plot needs to be quite different with the ability to suck you in form the start. I started this on audio and ended by reading it. There’s something fun about listening and reading the same book because the character’s voices, cadence and tone stay in my head.

This story is a slow burn and learning to sympathize with Missy took some time. Once you understand her back story, how she grew up, the ins and outs of her marriage and her relationships with her children, you’ll see her through a new lens. The supporting characters were all unique and for the most part believable. I loved Bob, the dog, and sweet Otis, the young boy.

Overall, it was an easy, enjoyable read.

Quotes I liked:

Above the cloud with its shadow is the star with its light.”

“At my age, reading obituaries is a generational hazard, contemporaries dropping off, one by one; each announcement an empty chamber in my own little revolver. For a while I tried to turn a blind eye, as if ignoring death could somehow fob it off. But people kept dying and other people kept writing about it, and some perverse imp obliged me to keep up to date.”