Emma Shevah’s previous novels, Dara Palmer’s Major Drama and Dream On, Amber have been hugely popular in the library, so it was no surprise to hear that my first tester readers of Shevah’s newest book, What Lexie Did, had been queuing to read it after me. Answering my question, what did you like about it, they were thrilled to tell me: “there are absolutely no boring bits at all”. High praise indeed from Year Six pupils.
Lexie is part of a large Greek-Cypriot family living in London. She has a very close relationship with her first cousin, Eleni, until a new friend arrives, Anastasia, and simmering jealousy rises to the surface at a family picnic. Lexie’s subsequent brush with telling the truth and being labelled a snitch makes her re-evaluate her loyalties, and also when to tell the truth and when not, so the next time an opportunity arrives to lie, she knows just what to do…
Shevah’s prose is immensely easy to read. What Lexie Did is written in first person from Lexie’s point of view, and accompanied by extensive doodles framing the text on every page, as if it were a pre-teen diary. (Ilustrations by Helen Crawford-White). This establishes an intimacy with the reader, so that although the reader sees the narrative unfold from Lexie’s point of view, they can understand where she’s going wrong, and see further than Lexie herself.
It’s a clever strategy, and neatly evokes a strong camaraderie between the reader and the protagonist, helped hugely by the fact that Lexie’s narrative is bouncy and vivacious, just like the character herself. She is quirky, interesting, and completely honest with the reader, and so the reader feels immediately immersed within the story.
Although ostensibly a story about a loss in the family and a subsequent argument, the plot unfolds to address two very current issues – the fracturing of society through loss of a sense of community and family, and our ability to know when to tell the truth and when to lie, and how we know what is fake and what is real.
Lexie is part of a large Greek-Cypriot community that spreads beyond her immediate family to encompass cousins and grandparents, but also friends and neighbours. When her grandmother dies, it affects more than just her immediate family. Shevah portrays the positive aspects of the feelings of belonging the community promotes. There’s food of course – delicious descriptions of the sensuous nature of food and the memories and emotions it arouses. There’s also a vast support network, shared passions and behaviours, and the strong moral ground the community gives. The argument fractures this community temporarily, and through its absence Shevah explores the power it had when it was in place.
The portrayal of a Greek-Cypriot community also affords Shevah the space to explore the special memories of childhood that it is giving Lexie – the days out, family gatherings, routines, Sunday school, and intimacy and love. Shevah isn’t Greek-Cypriot herself, but this doesn’t matter. Her extensive research gives form and passion to the community she describes.
The other aspect – the truth telling – is integral to the plot. Lexie’s lie leads to a heap of trouble for herself and her family, but also provides her with the opportunity to grow as a person. Shevah explores how a warm and loving childhood provides us with the space to make mistakes and learn from them. And it is more than just one large lie. Lexie looks at the confusing nuances of truth-telling – when it is right to lie and when not, when secrets are justified and when not. And funnily enough, her grandfather’s resolution creates confusion of its own, satisfying the issue the family has, but masking the original version.
Lexie also learns the value of friendship and loyalty, in a novel that reaches for honesty, identity and integrity. Shevah has succeeded in all three – this is a warm and accessible novel, and leaves the reader desperate to make their own cinnamon cake and galaktoboureka (recipes at the back), to experience a smidgen of the life Lexie leads. You can buy it here.