Yes, I mean, ev-ver-ry-bo-dy gets lonely sometimes and needs a little love. Lynn Harris, has been telling us for a while. In his eighth novel, A Love of My Own , we dive once again into the heartache and pain that accompany the search for true love.
I was pleased to see my favorite character, Raymond Tyler, Jr. Raymond is a fine brother, who just happens to be freshly out of the closet. Regardless of his gayness he still steals my heart. Thus Harris had me bent from the beginning. I knew she would be trouble cuz sister-girl had it going on. Harris, laid the plot well. It pissed me off that Zola was having it a little too good. While I watched her trying to outsmart Davis, I also watched her entangle Raymond into her troubles.
Poor Raymond was already in recovery mode from losing his man, Trent. Basil and Raymond try to reconnect, but this is more a cause of confusion than celebration. I was reeling from all the relationships, friendships and drama β the staples from which Harris concocts his stories. A good move. A Love of My Own contains big time drama and flows well most of the time.
There are however, a few rough patches where I think Harris could have smoothed the wrinkles and developed a clearer view. In one instance, Zola flies home for the Thanksgiving holiday. She steps from the plane, starts to retrieve her luggage, then, BAM!
She hears a couple reuniting, sheds a few tears because she has no real man of her own and suddenly she can not go home this way. She forgoes a taxi, changes her ticket, gets back on the plane and goes back to New York. Give-me-a break, this was so boring. There was no deepness to the emotion, nor do I know very many sisters who would have reacted this way.
