The Wishing Bridge by
Viola Shipman
My rating:
1 of 5 stars
Henri Wegner grew up a beloved child in Frankenmuth, Michigan, helped her father plan and execute his dream of opening the world's largest Christmas store, and then moved to Detroit to live her own dream of going to business school. She couldn't wait to leave behind small-town life and her childhood sweetheart. Fast forward a few decades, and the company she has worked for since graduating is now run by the son who inherited when his father died, and the son's a 2-dimensional stereotype of a greedy corporate shark. To save her job, she impulsively promises to convince her father to sell his now-famous, beloved store to a soulless company that will destroy it for profit. All she has to do is go home in December for the first time in years and betray her family to save a job she hates and doesn't really need or have strong ties to anymore.
*sighhhhhh* I wanted to like this book. It's a Hallmark Christmas movie in book form. Sadly, it is NOT one of the good Hallmark movies. There is no real conflict in this book, just a couple hundred pages of a grown woman agonizing over the world's most obvious choice.
This story is an identity crisis, and not in the way it intends (see above about the faux dilemma). Henri is introduced as being 52 years old, but the math on that doesn't work out, since based on the timeline of all the flashbacks, she had to be born in 1967, and the main part of the story has to take place now (2023) or thereabouts because of how the author refers to the COVID pandemic's effect on businesses in town. So Henri is actually 56. A 56-year-old woman with the angst and immaturity of a 26-year-old.
And that's, I think, really the problem. I LOVE finding stories centered on middle-aged characters, but this one doesn't feel authentic in the slightest. We are supposed to believe that Henri has lived and worked in the same place for *decades* and yet seems to have zero community? Her assistant is the closest thing she has to a friend in the city. There is no mention of anything that would in any way tie her to her current life--no friends or neighbors or former coworkers she keeps in contact with, no favorite restaurants or theatres, no faith community, no personality of any sort in her fancy, cold, uber-modern condo, and her work life is unbearably toxic. Apparently Henri has had the world's most routine, robotic life for the past 34 years, and we're supposed to believe this is in some way hard to give up to come home to a place she says she loves and feels loved, to take over management of a business she helped get started and still feels nostalgic for?
If Henri *had* been 26, I could buy that she was a workaholic driven by ambition and focused on her career to the exclusion of all else. I could believe that she was facing a quarter-life crisis and grappling with the realization that her life was going in the wrong direction. Actually, I could believe that of a 56-year-old if the circumstances of her life were different--multi-dimensional instead of a negative caricature of "Big City Life." It feels as though Henri was intended to be 26, but the author wanted to include all the nostalgia of life in the 1970s & 80s, which she couldn't do without making Henri a generation older. And it just doesn't work.
I did appreciate the nostalgic bits--I am old enough to have grown up with the excitement of those huge Wish Books at Christmastime that came from Sears and Montgomery Ward. However, I'm also old enough to know that NO ONE in 1975 was excited to get Star Wars figurines for Christmas, as is asserted in the opening of the book, because Star Wars didn't come out until 1977. That was just the first of several anachronisms.
One other thing really bugged me: toward the end, when Henri's boss & rival showed up at her family's store "unexpectedly" (it was telegraphed so hard...), Ms. Shipman describes the two of them sitting on the giant Santa throne in an "unchristian" way. I'm assuming she meant something akin to "lewd" or "x-rated," so the term raised my hackles. And then I snort-laughed at the implication that Christians don't have sex. Sure would be a lot fewer if that were true!
As with all Hallmark Christmas movies, there was supposed to be a romantic theme. Again, it would have worked quite well if the main characters had been 26 instead of 56. Or if they had spent more time getting to know the people they've grown into over the past 35 or so years since Henri broke Shep's heart, and IF the people they have become were actually a good fit. But that was pretty much glossed over, aside from Shep's newfound maturity a la post-divorce therapy. Nothing at all with the realities of single-sided step-parenting (which I can promise you is tricky!). I honestly think the most real character was Shep's ex-wife Hannah, who had done some major self-reflection and personal growth that Henri and her childhood BFF had not. Well, Sophie might have done a bit. All that is to say, the romance aspect of the book, which is usually my favorite part of a Hallmark Christmas movie, was both incidental to the main story and disappointingly paper thin.
For readers' advisors: I'm going with setting doorway as primary, for the descriptions of Frankenmuth and all its snowy businesses. There was no sex or violence, only a little swearing and a fair amount of drinking. Don't suggest this book to anyone who cares about complex, well-developed characters or a compelling plot, but it will probably appeal to readers who don't care about those things and just want to inhabit a Bavarian Christmas fantasy-land for a while. In that, it succeeds!
Nevertheless, I am very grateful to NetGalley and the publisher for the free eBook ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.
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