This is another book borrowed from my grandma’s bookshelf. I suspect she only kept it on the shelf because her name is Julia, not because she thought it was wonderful literature. She usually gets rid of this type of light reading a few years after it’s been published. (Where else did you think I learned the art of collecting good books? Or of getting rid of the mediocre ones?)
Midnight on Julia Street isn’t bad, but it’s not all that great either. It’s a love story that spans generations. Go-getter TV reporter Corlis meets rich Southern guy King, her rival from her militant feminist days in college. She’s all feminine looking now, he has unexpected depths, yadda, yadda, yadda. He’s a leading figure in the movement to restore old houses, she’s covering the movement for TV; thereby providing the main tension in their relationship, “Oh no, we can’t give in to our lurve! It wouldn’t be professional!” None of this is very original or exciting, but at least it’s written well enough not to be annoying.
Their love story is juxtaposed with the stories of their ancestors in New Orleans. It’s done through the psychic experiences of the heroine, psychic experiences that leave her drained and disoriented so that King can come to the rescue in a manly way. Despite this cliched aftermath, Corlis’ psychic episodes are really the best thing about this story. The author clearly adores historical New Orleans. While telling about the characters who used to live and work in the building that King is trying to rescue, Ciji Ware shows her love for New Orleans’ old houses, for its history, and for its diversity. The backstory ties in nicely with the modern love story, redeeming the mistakes of the past in a happily ever after sort of way. It’s a satisfying, light read for anyone who loves New Orleans.
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