House of Peine

Sarah-Kate Lynch

Random House

Otago Daily Times, November 25th 2006

The secret of champagne lies in the process of assemblage; the blending of this season’s chardonnay, pinot noir and pinot meunier with reserves from previous years to produce the characteristic taste of the house from which it comes.

It is also central metaphor of Sarah-Kate Lynch’s latest novel, The House of Peine. Clementine Peine has devoted her entire life to keeping the eponymous winery afloat as her father, Olivier, drinks himself and the business into the ground. When he dies (attempting to embrace a cardboard cutout of Juliette Binoche through a plate-glass window), she dreams of single-handedly rescuing the struggling winery, only to find herself the beneficiary of only quarter of the estate.

The remaining three-quarters are split between her two half-sisters (one of whom she hates, the other she never knew existed), and their future children.

These three women, whose only point of commonality (other than Olivier) is the emotional damage caused by childhood neglect, are forced to work together to save their ancestral home — with the assistance of an ancient gypsy matriarch, La Petite, and her gorgeous nephew, Hector.

Although I prefer a novel’s overall narrative arc (when there is one) to remain rather more discrete, both the central characters and the various twists in the plot kept me engaged throughout.

I was also fascinated by the background of champagne production itself, both a labour of love and a celebration of life for the artisans who produce it. Bread, cheese and now champagne — Sarah-Kate Lynch obviously enjoys the finer things in life and wants to share them with her readers. I’m just waiting for the truffles.