The last quarter of Dorothea Benton Frank’s latest work Plantation is all that keeps it from being a solid D. But that last portion is so moving that I was forced to raise the grade of the otherwise hackneyed novel to the distinctly above-average mark. Unfortunately, the rest of the book reads as if the the chapters had been written in the correct order, then dropped on the ground and re-assembled by someone who didn’t speak the language it was written in – which was not quite English, at times.

Caroline Levine thinks she’s happy. Forty years old, married to a British psychologist named Richard, raising their gifted and talented, ADD son Eric in New York while running her successful interior decorating business, she couldn’t be further from her Southern belle beginnings in the ACE Basin in North Carolina. But when her brother Trip calls her back to Tall Pines Plantation to “see about Mother,” Caroline begins to realize that she will never be happy away from her real home – and that home is not in New York.

But she has far more trouble ahead. Miss Lavinia, the Queen of Tall Pines is still only eccentric, and not crazy, as Trip claims. So why does he want to put her away? Unsubtle clues point to Trip’s trailer-trash wife Frances Mae, currently pregnant with daughter number four, and painfully obvious in her attempts to kiss up to “Mother Wimbley” and her money. But the problems go far deeper. Trip is in trouble. Miss Lavinia is in trouble. And Caroline is most definitely in trouble.

But it’s up to her to find solutions, with the help of estate manager Millie, and the spirit of Caroline’s father. Millie is the Gullah woman who has run Miss Lavinia’s estate and, in some respects, her life, since Nevil Wembley passed on twenty six years ago. And now Nevil’s ghost is resurrecting more than memories.

The story contained in this book is powerful and involving, but unfortunately, we’re not given information we need in the first few chapters until over halfway into the novel. History that defines the relationships between the characters is withheld until well past the time it’s relevant. While this can sometimes work to redefine events, in this case, it’s merely frustrating.

Another problem with this work is the main character, Caroline. She seems to have two personalities – cool, modern New Yorker, and refined, genteel Southern belle, and she switches off between the two at unexpected times, adding to the choppy nature of the book. Also, she has a tendency to be judgmental, which comes out in her attitudes toward sex, her cheating ex-husband Richard, and Frances Mae. In both cases, the object of her attitudes is hardly a tolerable individual, but her thoughts regarding them reflect poorly on her as well. She’s angry about Richard’s unfaithfulness, and his (correct) assumption that she wouldn’t be interested in the kinky sex he craved. She knows in her heart that any sex other than the kind she likes, and has been having with Richard thus far, is simply wrong. This is particularly interesting in light of the fact that she thinks to herself, a few chapters later, that she is tired of “fifteen years of the missionary position.” And when both she and Lavinia think of and discuss the regrettable Frances Mae, they constantly refer to her as being from a “low class” family, but unfortunately we know nothing about them other than that her brother is in jail. A picky point, but it smacks of prejudice and ignorance, and is hardly attractive in a heroine.

The paranormal aspects of the book represent yet another problem as they are handled at times offhandedly and at other times with great emphasis and disbelief on the part of the main character. This too, brings out the uneven qualities of the book. Caroline was born with a “caul,” or membrane covering her. Millie has been sure all of her life that this meant Caroline had a second sight, and this eventually turns out to be true. Caroline never particularly questions this, but then at other times she questions her ability, and Millie’s ability, to do “magic,” which seems to be related to herbalism and to Millie’s roots in both the Ife and Christian religions. Her skeptical New Yorker half refuses to believe, while her down-home Miss Caroline personality accepts. Unfortunately, this duality – which could have been played out and resolved in a manner adding a great deal to the story – is never really examined well enough to warrant its existence.

As I mentioned above, however, this book has its saving graces, and they mostly appear in the later part of the novel. Relationships and conflicts between the main characters come to a head and are resolved – sometimes – and give the story a fullness that hints at greater things to come. All of the characters are fascinating, and the Southern and Gullah cultures that form one of the focuses of the story are richly and enthrallingly described. While the book could certainly benefit from timeline editing, the foundations of richness are laid here. I look forward to Ms. Frank’s future works, and would still recommend this book to anyone with the time and desire to read an author who has perhaps not yet come into her own – but is definitely getting there.