In her latest book, Joanne Harris brings back Lansquenet-sous-Tannes’ friendly neighbourhood witch, Vianne Rocher. Vianne’s making and scrying with chocolate again; her elder daughter Anouk has stayed behind in Paris and the younger girl Rosette is now a silent 16. She believes that her Maman has made a sinister pact with the wind and let it steal Rosette’s voice, to ensure that she stays with Vianne forever.
Those who haven’t read Chocolat (are there really many of those around?) or TheLollipop Shoes don’t miss out on anything much, since The Strawberry Thief is very much a standalone tale. However, the shadings given to characters invariably hark back to their doings in the earlier books. And for the reader who has forgotten the finer details of Chocolat , there are little mendiants — disks of references — scattered through the book.
It’s the usual JH mix... loads of atmosphere centring around an oak wood and its boarded-up mysterious well, which an elderly resident of the village has inexplicably left to Rosette. The man Narcisse has left behind a confession too, meant only for the curé Reynaud’s eyes. Willy-nilly, the focus shifts almost entirely from Narcisse’s dark secrets to the formerly sinister priest Reynaud. And in the middle of it all, there arrives a mysterious woman with no feet who opens a tattoo parlour across from Vianne’s chocolate shop.
The Strawberry Thief; Joanne Harris, Hachette India, ₹599
This time around, it’s Rosette who has been imbued with magical powers that veer slightly to the dark side. Both Vianne and Rosette are expert wind whisperers, harnessing the breeze, keeping it under control or letting it wreak havoc.
The writing is as dense with detail and evocative as ever, and even as you wonder if the author will wander into twee territory, she pulls back at the last moment. But Vianne Rocher has been reduced to an almost-normal worrying mother here, her manipulative side foremost. Also, the Moroccan motif seems forced: there are stray references to the immigrants who stay near the riverbank and those bits come off as a contrivance. Harris’ strength has always been the different voices she tells her tales in, but this time some of the tonal characteristics of the different narrators seem to converge into one voice.
My main takeaway from this ode to loss was something poignant: Vianne Rocher still believes in the magic of chocolate… and her children humour her.
The writer is a manuscript editor and novelist based in Bengaluru.
