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fablejack's review against another edition
3.0
Poignant and heartbreaking at times with a real sense for wit in conversation and the human condition. Anne Lamott is wonderful at writing about what we have in common and what distinguishes us, but mostly the former. This is a fine follow up to Rosie, particularly if you don't mind all the tennis (which I don't).
snealon's review against another edition
4.0
Despite my cynicism, I found myself falling for Lamott's portrayal of all the gooey supportive love and understanding in the unconventional relationships between teenage daughter Rosie, her recovering alcoholic, widowed mother Elizabeth, and the myriad satellite stand-in parental figures for Rosie. I was so beguiled by the atmosphere Lamott creates through her beautiful language, that I kept yearning to pick up the book again simply to be back in the haunting world she had created. I was certainly not lured back by the slow-moving plot, punctuated with excitement from the play-by-play of Rosie's tennis matches (yawn).
jooniperd's review
3.0
3.5-stars, really. follow up to [b:Rosie|12536|Rosie|Anne Lamott|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1385276272s/12536.jpg|14829], good, but not as strong as rosie.
falconerreader's review
4.0
This is a rare book in that it didn't have much of a plot, yet I loved it. I enjoyed it much more than its sequel--I seem to be reading the trilogy in reverse order. Another oddity is that my single favorite part of this book were the fights. "From Bosnia to Paris in 24 hours" muses Elizabeth after reconciling with her husband. I've always preferred Lamott's nonfiction to her fiction, and it's her honesty that makes it great. She says out loud things I barely let myself think. That's how it felt reading about the fights as well--that mortifying yet satisfying sense of recognition. I also loved how the scary lurker turns out to be something completely different. And while Rosie is over the top, foreshadowing the nonsense she gets into by the next book, her struggles with light and darkness are true to adolescense. (But injuring yourself with your own tennis trophy? It's like cutting, which I also never got.)
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