NdukuOutLoud

A personal reflection on Jojo Moyes' The Giver of Stars and the quiet revolutions of love, identity, and community.

I didn’t pick this book up with confidence. In fact, I put it back. Not once, not twice. Thrice. The cover or something about it gave Harlequin romance vibes, and while I used to devour those, I’ve outgrown the sugar rush of predictable love stories. But something kept pulling me back. Yes, the Reese’s Book Club logo was a quiet promise of depth. But the mention of friendships, specifically lady friendships sealed it. And I gave in and I am so glad I did.

I read this faster that I’ve read anything in a while. It swept me up. In plot and in feeling.

It’s set in Kentucky and while I have never been, Jojo Moyes made me feel like I had. The descriptions gave me landscapes to imagine, accents to invent and a rhythm of life that felt both foreign and familiar. Some of the issues may feel distant as it is set in the depression era. But others like exploitation and inequality are still painfully present, even here in Kenya.

The story centers around five women- with four of them; Alice, Margery ,Izzy and Beth being sort of key . With Sophia and Kathleen playing what I would call background but very key roles in the whole story. These are women who, under “normal” circumstances, wouldn’t have been friends. And maybe that’s why I connected so deeply. I understand unlikely friendships. The kind that build you up, break you open, and reveal parts of yourself you didn’t know existed.

Alice’s story begins with a leap. A leap across oceans, across cultures and across expectations. She leaves Britain for Kentucky, chasing what she believes is love. But what she finds is something else entirely. And while I may not have done this yet. It is something that we have either done or wanted to do. And not in the geographical sense but in a more emotional and existential journey. A search for freedom , for belonging, for a version of herself that her upbringing never allowed.

And this makes the story more compelling. Because sometimes, what we call love is really a rebellion. A yearning. A hope that someone else can give us what our families couldn’t. Her first attempt doesn’t deliver that dream. But through heartbreak and hardships, she discovers a deeper kind of love.

Margery is the kind of woman society loves to misunderstand. Firstly she is judged from her family’s misgivings. Taking on labels and hate from actions that had nothing to do with her. Judged from family feuds that she had no part in. Something she doesn’t want to do for her own child. She’s dismissed and judged- but she stands firm. Her story is a reminder of how women who choose differently are often punished for it. Yet her courage and kindness shine through, especially when her community rallies around her in her darkest hour. It is also from her love and connection that Alice learns that there is a different kind of love. One that she sometimes envies and yearns for so deeply.

It is from Izzy that I am reminded that maybe parents just want to see us dare to be ourselves. We might be staying away from our dreams and desires- worried that we may disappoint them when really they are rooting for us. Not always, of course. But it is something to consider even as a parent myself. Izzy blossoms through friendship. She steps out of her mother’s shadow, finds her voice, and becomes part of something bigger. Her mother, Mrs. Brady- a powerhouse herself-stands by her.

Then there’s Beth. A firecracker. Sure of herself, unafraid of challenges, and unapologetically real. She curses too. And I must confess that hers were the best conversations for me to test out my accent. Raised, and maybe even raising boys, Beth is confident, loveable and again, unapologetically real. She may not know where India is on a map, but she knows who she is. And that’s more than most.

The book doesn’t shy away from tough topics; sexual pleasure for women, single parenthood, societal expectations. It’s bold, brave and beautifully written. It reminded me of the importance of pausing to understand what love really is. Of knowing what we stand for-and standing fully, wholly in it.

This isn’t just a book about horseback librarians in Kentucky. It’s a story about women who choose differently. Who love fiercely. Who build each other up. It’s about about friendship, freedom , and the quiet revolutions we carry in our hearts.

It’s learning that crossing oceans and other sacrifices doesn’t guarantee love-but it might just lead you to yourself.