Fifty-Four Holly Lane is a novel told in the first-person point of view from five different characters in the Gallagher household. To give you a sense of the novel’s structure and characters’ voices, I included excerpts from each character’s narrative below.
PEGGY (age 80)
Sometimes, I get upset. All my friends have a nest egg with eggs still in the nest. Well, soon our nest will belong to Tommy and Ashleigh. I thought we could sell the house before we lost it and move to an apartment or one of those elder places, but John would have none of it. He said, “I’ve lived here almost all my life; I might as well die here.”
Before Tommy decided to sell, John would call him every night after The Wheel, pushing him about the house, asking Tommy what to do next like Tommy was God Almighty. It got so bad, John said, “I took care of you. It’s your turn to take care of me.”
ASHLEIGH (age 43)
Everyone I’ve told about the move from 426 Church Street to 54 Holly Lane—our mission, our purpose—says I’m a giving person for taking on this task, but they don’t see that, by doing it, I’ve broken something in myself. Something ugly rises up, resentful, afraid, frustrated, so what I give with an open hand I take back in a closed fist. I don’t want anyone to pretend I have a halo, never mind make a comment about shining it up.
TOMMY (age 54)
At times, I wish my life had turned out differently. Here I am, back in the house I lived in from age two to twenty-four. I should’ve joined the Marines after finishing basic and infantry school. My fucking parents guilted me into staying. I don’t know why the fuck I let them hold me back. There are moments in your life you see in retrospect as pivotal; these moments present two radically different choices that transform the person you’ll become and the choices you have. Not joining the Marines was one of those pivotal moments. Marrying Ash was another.
EMILY (age 18)
Mom worries about petty things, gets on me for not finishing my “expensive” iced coffees or cleaning my room. I want her to shut up most days. Dad gets on me, too, for laying around. He wants me to get out and go to the gym, but I’d rather pluck my nose hair than do that.
Dad sometimes says, “You used to smile all the time, as a baby.”
How is that supposed to make me feel?
I don’t want to die, but if a strong wind could lift me up and sweep me away from everything and everyone, I’d give myself to it.
TROY (age 14)
I don’t mind living in Grandma and Grandpa’s old house, making it ours. My room is much smaller than in our old house, but I got new carpet. It’s dark blue. I picked it out myself. Last week, Dad had the tree service pull out all the trees that used to drive him crazy as a kid when he mowed the lawn. The roots grew up into the yard and the mower would always catch on them. Dad and some of the neighbors stood around and watched all the big trees fall. The tree cutters fed them through the chipper and they made a terrible grinding sound. It was a little sad seeing the yard so empty. Dad was happy, though. Now, he has a clean yard, and he gets revenge.
