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scavengercat's review
This could have been a lot better. I highlighted sooo much, yet didn’t ultimately relate to the author. (Tw: cancer)
angelamichelle's review
4.0
I did not resonate with the story two very broken people who try to take a shortcut to healing through a long-term affair that shreds both their families.
I very much resonated with the unflinching analysis of how the sexism-imbued world we live in damages women’s hearts and bodies and makes truly equal relationships between men and women almost impossible.
In the end, an admirable exercise in brutal truth-telling and extreme perspective-sharing.
I very much resonated with the unflinching analysis of how the sexism-imbued world we live in damages women’s hearts and bodies and makes truly equal relationships between men and women almost impossible.
In the end, an admirable exercise in brutal truth-telling and extreme perspective-sharing.
alexisrt's review
4.0
A memoir about how you blew up your marriage by having an affair invites judgment, and Gina Frangello doesn't shy away from inviting it. Whatever her flaws, an unwillingness to make herself look bad isn't one, because she does—along with her lover and her husband. In fact, this willingness is the best part of the book.
I'm not quite sure I'd call it honesty, however. It is and it isn't. As she says in her disclaimer, this is "creative nonfiction," so a grain of salt is necessary. Her rage and passion make this worth reading. Her attempts to justify her actions, whether on a personal level or by seating her actions within a feminist perspective, sit a little less comfortably. To thine own self be true, perhaps, but she (and her partners) left quite the trail of carnage in their wake.
(Small note: it got somewhat annoying having them referred to as "my husband" and "my lover" for the entire book. She gave her kids pseudonyms and it would have been better to just do the same for the men.)
I'm not quite sure I'd call it honesty, however. It is and it isn't. As she says in her disclaimer, this is "creative nonfiction," so a grain of salt is necessary. Her rage and passion make this worth reading. Her attempts to justify her actions, whether on a personal level or by seating her actions within a feminist perspective, sit a little less comfortably. To thine own self be true, perhaps, but she (and her partners) left quite the trail of carnage in their wake.
(Small note: it got somewhat annoying having them referred to as "my husband" and "my lover" for the entire book. She gave her kids pseudonyms and it would have been better to just do the same for the men.)