April 15, 2002
In the brief prelude to this conventional contemporary love story, a fortune-teller predicts that Beatrice Jordan (then 12) will meet a soul mate whom she'll lose to tragedy. Fifteen years later, lonely and feeling like an outsider in her hometown of Los Angeles, this self-professed "cynical but lovable...chick" impulsively answers a personal ad in a weekly newspaper. Jacob Grace is two years her senior, a freelancer with a novel called Hallelujah
in progress; Beatrice's work as a jewelry designer gives her life meaning, as do music, books and sex, not necessarily in that order. Both of their fathers—hers a workaholic lawyer, his an alcoholic author—decamped, and they still feel abandoned; they also both feel that music is "a cosmic language" and that people are "all searching to fill up" the titular hole in their souls. Jacob renames Beatrice "Trixie" and takes her for a midnight swim in the frigid Pacific before they bed down in her apartment. Their ensuing relationship is sensuous, but marred by her jealousy of his former girlfriend, his fondness for taking solo sojourns without notice and their shared antagonism toward their fathers. Beatrice comes across as bright but brittle, independent but superstitious, sophisticated but trailer-park profane. Jacob is Byronic, misunderstood and (of course) destined for tragedy. For readers compelled by bedroom athletics and the self-destructive tendencies of free spirits, and unopposed to prose that's not much better than competent, this first novel offers some appeal.