Barbara Kingsolver is one of those rare writers with whom you know what you are getting before you open the first page.
You know, for example, that the prose is going to be literary, dense, and luscious (take this descriptive line: SummerвЂ™s heat had never really arrived, nor the cold in turn, and everything living now seemed to yearn for sun with the anguish of the unloved.вЂќ) You know that the content will focus on some kind of social justice, biodiversity, or environmental issue. You know, too, that at some point, Ms. Kingsolver will cross the line into authorial intrusion based on her passion for the subject she is writing on.
But you keep coming back for more. At least, I do. There is something mesmerizing about a Barbara Kingsolver novel, and something refreshing about a writer who combines a solid scientific background with stunning prose.