The Monk Downstairs by Tim Farrington. HarperCollins, 2002. $22.95 — 288 pp.

The words of praise so often found on the backs of books, the little blurbs of admiration written by a reviewer or writer, have bothered me ever since I lived in Charlottesville, Va. At the University of Virginia there were — and still are, for that matter — a number of published authors who teach as well as write fiction. While living there, I began noticing how so many of the writers would write the jacket praises for the books of their colleagues. X praised Y’s novel and Z’s collection of poems, and within a few months the generous words of Y and Z would appear on X’s selected short stories. It was a nice, cozy arrangement, and I suppose it worked well enough if you didn’t know those involved.

On the back of Jim Lehrer’s No Certain Rest, we find these words by Tony Horwitz, the author of the fine book Confederates In The Attic:

From opening to final shot, No Certain Rest reads like Antietam: blood-soaked, fast-charging, filled with twists, and as hauntingly irresistible to a Civil War buff as the battle itself.

We read these words, and we may think to ourselves: This must be a fine novel. No less an authority than Tony Horwitz thinks so. If Tony recommends it, then it must be worth my while.

Then, of course, we actually read the book and realize that with the exception of certain battle scene descriptions that are better done in a dozen books of history, No Certain Rest is a novel in which the characters, particularly the modern characters, come across as cartoon figures while the plot of the book becomes more and more ludicrous.

Don Spaniel is a government archaeologist who is called to investigate the remains of a Union soldier found on private property next to the battlefield of Antietam. His conjectures about the soldier’s death — he is buried face down, shot in the back of the head, and as Don later learns, was killed with his hands tied behind his back — lead Don down investigative trails as various as forensic labs and county historical organizations. He soon realizes that the body he has found actually belongs in a grave up in Connecticut, where another soldier lies buried. He also finds himself entangled in a dangerous feud between the descendants of these soldiers.

With the exception of the Civil War soldiers, the other characters in Lehrer’s novel come across as caricatures. Though I enjoyed some parts of the book regarding forensics and archaeology, Don Spaniel himself struck me as an unbelievable character — enthusiastic about his work, yes, but with the sort of dewy-eyed approach to the world of the beast bearing his surname. His friend in forensics, an anthropologist named Reg Womach, is so much like Don that the two could be twins.

With the exception of certain archaeological details, Civil War buffs will not find this book, as Tony Horwitz claims, hauntingly irresistible. They will instead rue the fact that they spent money and time on a book of so little consequence.

•••

On the back of Tim Farrington’s latest novel, The Monk Downstairs, there is written: A Love Story with a Twist: What Happens When God Is the Other Woman?

It is an interesting thought, but it doesn’t apply to The Monk Downstairs. Michael Christopher — Christopher meaning Christ Bearer — leaves his monastery and his religious vocation after 20 years to reenter the world. Rebecca Martin, a single mom juggling her work and her relationships, rents him an apartment on her property. Soon Rebecca’s daughter, Mary Martha, becomes great friends with Michael, as does Rebecca’s mother, Phoebe. Meanwhile, Rebecca’s love affair with another man crashes to an end when she refuses her lover’s marriage proposal.

As she deepens her relationship with Michael, Rebecca, who has given up on romance and a sense of adventure in life, feels these passions reawakening within her. She begins to believe in hope, in other words, while at the same time falling slowly in love with Michael.

What is special about The Monk Downstairs is Rebecca Martin. In her, Tim Farrington has given us a real woman of today, a woman who deals with a young daughter and an eccentric mother, who also tries to earn a living and carry on a relationship with a man. Oddly enough, considering that the story was written by a man, Rebecca seems much more real a character than Michael Christopher. She is a bright, witty, and much harassed woman who actually grows in this novel. The rival in her relationship with Michael is not, as the blurb stated, God, for Michael doesn’t seem to have lost his faith in God so much as in his vocation. Rebecca’s main rival in seeking Michael’s love is the hardest antagonist of all — her own self.

If you’re looking for a funny, thoughtful read, you could do much worse than The Monk Downstairs.

(Jeff Minick lives in Waynesville. He can be reached at saintsbookco@aol.com)