In "The Liars' Club," poet and Syracuse English professor Mary Karrtantalized readers with descriptions of her harrowing Texas childhood--analcoholic, knife-wielding mother with a penchant for arson, and so forth. In "Cherry," Karr's back with (did you guess it from the title?) hersexual coming of age. We learn about her deep desire for "titties" (shegets them when she starts taking the pill, but her best friend fills a D Cup simply by devoting enough novenas to the cause), her choice to"give it up" to her James Dean boyfriend (his name's Phil, and he drives atwo-tone Ford), and her forays into pot and psychedelics. We read of herblossoming, faintly eroticized friendship with Meredith, another bookishalmost-misfit, and of her crush on the boy next door.
Because she's inhard-scrabble Texas, religion manages to pervade even the life of a 70sswinger as sophisticated as Karr: a neighbor's son shot himself whilereading the Bible, and his bereaved mom lives to show off the "puckered"pages of Psalms stained with his blood. Young Mary watches Song ofBernadette on television, and prays fervently all summer for a bestfriend. But for Karr, growing up seems to involve not just getting laid, but also shedding these trappings of faith.
Readers may tire of Karr's love of the second-person, and they may wish the transition from nerdish spelling-bee champ to hip and happenin' druggie was clearer. But fans who read and reread "The Liars' Club" will be thankful for the sequel.