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barbaraalfond 's review for:
The Latecomer
by Jean Hanff Korelitz
I can’t give this five stars because then what what I do about In Memoriam, et al, but boy! did I love this book! What a storyteller Jean Hanff Korelitz
Is, and how deeply and with what familiarity she delves into the many diverse topics and societal framings of this smart, tragicomic novel. The least attention, ironically, is paid to the framing topic of the book: assisted pregnancy. For that, you can go to Dani Shapiro, and others, but on art; progressive education; conservative politics; family dynamics; summers of privilege on Martha’s Vineyard (what could possibly go wrong); the rise of gourmet Brooklyn; Long Island middle-class upbringing; college admissions; old , quiet German-Jewish banking; real estate, terrible trauma and the long arc of healing; my gosh! she absolutely nails it all. I loved every single moment I spent listening to this sprightly narration by Julia Whalen and even applauded the author’s use of a seventeen-year-old Phoebe —or was she thirty -five—as the deus ex machina who brings it all together. If Anthony Trollope or George Eliot were alive today, I think they would heartily approve of the comparison between their writing and Korelitzes. She is definitely a fellow traveler!
Is, and how deeply and with what familiarity she delves into the many diverse topics and societal framings of this smart, tragicomic novel. The least attention, ironically, is paid to the framing topic of the book: assisted pregnancy. For that, you can go to Dani Shapiro, and others, but on art; progressive education; conservative politics; family dynamics; summers of privilege on Martha’s Vineyard (what could possibly go wrong); the rise of gourmet Brooklyn; Long Island middle-class upbringing; college admissions; old , quiet German-Jewish banking; real estate, terrible trauma and the long arc of healing; my gosh! she absolutely nails it all. I loved every single moment I spent listening to this sprightly narration by Julia Whalen and even applauded the author’s use of a seventeen-year-old Phoebe —or was she thirty -five—as the deus ex machina who brings it all together. If Anthony Trollope or George Eliot were alive today, I think they would heartily approve of the comparison between their writing and Korelitzes. She is definitely a fellow traveler!