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Books: Fall Reading

Summer is over, winter is upon us: reading is a constant. One I loved — every single page — is Ian McEwan’s The Children Act.

TheChildrenActLet’s review my feelings for Mr. McEwan’s work. I thoroughly enjoyed his last two efforts, the spy spoof Sweet Tooth and the environmental satire Solar. Both are wise and well crafted. His most famous work, Atonement, left me cold. I ate up its beginning, but really Briony: there’s no atoning.

His newly published The Children Act is 221 pages of tightly-wound perfection. It tells the story of Fiona Maye, a middle-aged High Court judge whose husband, an academic, leaves her for his young statistician. Understandably, Fiona is furious. She carries on at work, handling the case of a critically ill 17-year-old boy whose parents, Jehovah’s Witnesses, will not agree to have his blood transfused.

Later, the boy presents Fiona with a personal choice, which she dismisses. Would she have considered differently if she were a mother? If she had children at home? If her marriage were whole?

This is a great choice for a book club. Lots to discuss.

The Paying GuestsFrom there I picked up Sarah Waters’ The Paying Guests, which received rave reviews all over. Hmm. Not sure I agree. I will say it kept me engaged.

The story is set after World War One, in a once grand home outside of London, peopled by a widow and her adult daughter Frances, a lesbian. They’re broke and grieving the war deaths of sons and brothers. It’s a dreary place. Enter a glamorous couple, who board with them.

Frances falls for the wife, who slowly responds. Theirs is a very sexy affair. The husband is charming but flighty: he is beat up in the alley and is often out late drinking with friends. He’s found dead. The women’s affair unravels because of the police investigation and trial. Was theirs a true love, or a perfect set up?

imagesOn to Us, by David Nicholls, author of One Day. I loved One Day, though not its movie: a sweet, endearing, swiftly told, shockingly sad read. Of course I expected the same from his latest.

Nope. Us is a back and forth “how we met” story of a now middle-aged British couple, about to split up, going off on a European vacation with their unpleasant teenage son. The telling is tiresome and no one is likable. I left them on page 147, in Amsterdam.

Finally, John Kenney’s Truth in Advertising, which won this year’s Thurber Prize for American Humor. Deserved. It’s witty, well drawn, dark, silly: today’s Mad Men.

shoppingFin, our hero, is a self-loathing ad man heading towards 40, once nearly married (ouch!) and disconnected from his family. His plans for Christmas: Mexico, alone.

I loved this read: a smart rom com that skewers advertising. Yes, he is reunited with family and yes he gets the girl…but none of it is easy, or treacly. Nicely told, and very funny.

Also in the blog

With two weekend trips that involved air travel and a week in bed with a respiratory flu, I read a lot. Here goes: Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air is a seamless memoir of a young neurosurgeon’s last year. Woven into his dire situation is the story of his life: a happy, active Arizona childhood,

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Doesn’t matter if it’s balmy (ahhh, Florida in December) or bitterly cold (Chiberia, Day 2): either place you’ll find my head in a book. I’ve read some really good ones lately. No duds. First, Dave Eggers’ The Circle. I loved Eggers’ last, A Hologram for the King. That’s the kind of reader I am, like

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I’ve had a hard time reading and writing lately. Not sure why. Lockdown going into a second year? Probably. I’m bored with myself because there’s not enough going on. No dinner parties, no restaurant lunches, no movie dates. No travel. I’m grateful for my husband’s presence, especially in the late afternoon and evening. We watch

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