The Lost Hours, by Karen White, is a complex story about intergenerational relationships and the damage keeping secrets can do. Piper Mills is an equestrian whose Olympic hopes were shattered with her bones in a near-fatal jumping accident. When her dear grandfather dies, she inherits his property -- and finds hints that her wallflower grandmother had a more interesting life than Piper ever dreamed. The book opens with this intriguing passage: "When I was twelve years old, I helped my granddaddy bury a box in the back garden of our Savannah house. I didn't ask him what was in it. The box belonged to my grandmother, so I didn't care. Long before the Alzheimer's got her mind, a fear of living had taken hold of her spirit, convincing me that my grandmother had no stories worth listening to." Most of the book involves Piper's search to uncover the stories her grandmother never told, and indeed, respect for "story" permeates the book. In fact, the most quotable (and most quoted) passage in the book is about exactly that: "Every woman should have a daughter to tell her stories to. Otherwise, the lessons learned are as useless as spare buttons from a discarded shirt. And all that is left is a fading name and the shape of a nose or the color of hair. The men who write the history books will tell you the stories of battles and conquests. But the women will tell you the stories of people's hearts." I was captured by the box, and yes, you do get to see what's in it (quite early in the book). In fact, it sets up the primary question: what exactly was the secret that drove apart three friends who had vowed to remain together their entire lives? I adore Karen White. Before Lost Hours, I had read five of her books, and absolutely loved every one of them. Karen has an exquisite sense of place, and setting becomes almost as important as plot in her books. Her characters are deeply flawed but redeemable, people I want to spend time with. The stories are poignant and moving, and I find myself thinking about them and their application in my life for weeks or months afterward. Indeed, Lost Hours is an interesting statement about how easy it is to assume you know the other women in your life, and how very wrong your conclusions can be, definitely something applicable to me! I really appreciate how Karen has interwoven the social history of the time into the lives of these characters, and I love that a disabled character is one of the strongest, most admirable people in the story. However, I have to say, this is my least favorite of her books. The premise absolutely grabbed me, but the writing doesn't seem up to her usual standards. This is only the second year she's attempted to publish two books a year, and I suspect she ran out of time and just wasn't able to do the intense revision she's done in the past. It's still worth reading. One scene in the ending was particularly powerful, and I was there in that attic room as it happened. The complex web of relationships was well worth exploring. And as always, the setting -- so different from mine -- was fascinating, particularly the line of stunted oaks that grieved audibly for the loss of the sisters. I'm still a major fan of Karen White. And you can bet I'll be reading The Girl on Legare Street (the sequel to The House on Tradd Street) the day I can get my hands on it!