Review: Cold got you down? ‘We All Live Here’ will warm you up

It’s February, the time of year when we could all use a little warmth and sun. And lucky us — here come both in the form of a new novel by Jojo Moyes.

“We All Live Here” is bighearted and funny, a story about mistakes, forgiveness and moving on.

Moyes is the bestselling author of “The Giver of Stars” and “Someone Else’s Shoes,” and her novels are filled with love (gone wrong, and then gone right), modern day complexities (texting and YouTube play a big role in this one), and a bit of sex, all played out by a quirky ensemble cast.

The story revolves around Lila, a 42-year-old writer who lives in a crumbling Victorian house in London with her teenage daughter Celie, her younger daughter Violet, and her stepfather Bill, who moved in after the recent death of Lila’s mother, Francesca.

Bill is a great character, all stiff back and prissiness. He does the cooking, which is a huge help, except it’s mostly “nutritional meals involving unfamiliar vegetables” when everyone would prefer a cheese toastie. As the book opens, he has hired a gardener to dig up Lila’s yard and create a garden to honor Francesca.

Lila’s husband left her right after Lila’s latest book (a memoir about her happy marriage) was excerpted in national newspapers. To make things more awkward, he moved in with Marja, a lush blond divorcee whose child attends school with Violet. Lila spends every afternoon trying to avoid Marja as they wait with the other moms to pick up their children.

When a handsome architect starts waiting there for his daughter, he and Lila strike up a relationship, but Gabriel is a man of mystery. Is he flirting, or truly attracted? Why doesn’t he call? Lila finds herself as confused as any teenager.

Meanwhile, that gardener is hanging around so much he’s practically become one of the family.

As Lila navigates all of this, who should show up but Gene, her biological father, whom she hasn’t seen since she was a child. He had deserted Francesca for Hollywood, where he became a TV star, but now he’s fallen on hard times.

It is a testament to Moyes’ powers of storytelling that all of this seems completely plausible. Lila feels like a real person, all crankiness and angst and big mistakes. When she uses a recent romantic encounter to kick-start her new memoir (her agent is clamoring for true stories of “sexy cougars having fun”) you just know this is the worst decision of all.

“We All Live Here” is about family — what defines it, how it morphs, how it hurts us, how it sustains us. “It’s not a traditional family,” one of Lila’s friends notes, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not a family.”

Wrapped in an afghan, sipping tea as you read, you won’t even notice that February wind howling outside your window. There’s too much fun going on inside that crumbling London Victorian.

Laurie Hertzel is a book critic in St. Paul. She also reviews for the Boston Globe and the Washington Post.

We All Live Here

By: Jojo Moyes.

Publisher: Pamela Dorman Books, 464 pages, $30.