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Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook by Anthony Bourdain
2.0
Let’s get this out up front: The F bomb is ABUNDANT in Anthony Bourdain’s Medium Raw. It’s how he has made a living – first as a foul mouth chef, now as a foul mouth TV travel host. The F Bomb is so copious that if it were buck-shot loaded into a shot gun and fired at the book, all you would have left hanging from the spine was a few tattered pages that looked a lot like Swiss cheese. But if you have read his first book, Kitchen Confidential, or followed his TV show, you would know this – so I was prepared for battle when I cracked the cover on his most recent rant, restaurant subculture tell-all, memoir.
In essay style – Mr. Bourdain takes on every known enemy from Food Network, to Alice Waters (the Mother Theresa of the organic, sustainability food movement) to Ronald McDonald himself. He gives us background into the secrets of Top Chef (but not as much as I would have liked!). He talks bluntly about protecting his daughter from the chicken nugget, his suicidal moments following the end of his first marriage and tasting menus at 4 star restaurants.
But his most brilliant chapter/essay is My Aim is True – about Justo Thomas, who is in charge of preparing all the fish for Le Bernardin – Chef extraordinaire Eric Ripert’s celebrated restaurant. In exquisite form, Mr. Bourdain, takes us through the a “day in the life” of Justo as crates of every known type of fish must be filleted, scaled, deboned, and precisely portioned out for the various chef’s preparations. It is like a seafood symphony what this man is able to accomplish. And at the end, Mr. Bourdain does something that proves he isn’t as hard-hearted as he appears to be.
I sheepishly admit I like Mr. Bourdain’s snarky, snide, comic, vitriolic, commentary. I love is show and loved KC. This book, however, seemed like much of the same – and even I – who was prepared for the language, grew weary of reading yet another expletive.
So, if you are interested at all in reading this book – I would recommend (much against the publisher’s orders) finding yourself a big comfy chair at Barnes & Noble (or your book store du jour) pulling a copy from the shelves and reading the chapters entitled Lower Education, I’m Dancing, and My Aim is True. You’ll be spared many of the Fbombs, but left with some of the most emotional and best writing of the book.
In essay style – Mr. Bourdain takes on every known enemy from Food Network, to Alice Waters (the Mother Theresa of the organic, sustainability food movement) to Ronald McDonald himself. He gives us background into the secrets of Top Chef (but not as much as I would have liked!). He talks bluntly about protecting his daughter from the chicken nugget, his suicidal moments following the end of his first marriage and tasting menus at 4 star restaurants.
But his most brilliant chapter/essay is My Aim is True – about Justo Thomas, who is in charge of preparing all the fish for Le Bernardin – Chef extraordinaire Eric Ripert’s celebrated restaurant. In exquisite form, Mr. Bourdain, takes us through the a “day in the life” of Justo as crates of every known type of fish must be filleted, scaled, deboned, and precisely portioned out for the various chef’s preparations. It is like a seafood symphony what this man is able to accomplish. And at the end, Mr. Bourdain does something that proves he isn’t as hard-hearted as he appears to be.
I sheepishly admit I like Mr. Bourdain’s snarky, snide, comic, vitriolic, commentary. I love is show and loved KC. This book, however, seemed like much of the same – and even I – who was prepared for the language, grew weary of reading yet another expletive.
So, if you are interested at all in reading this book – I would recommend (much against the publisher’s orders) finding yourself a big comfy chair at Barnes & Noble (or your book store du jour) pulling a copy from the shelves and reading the chapters entitled Lower Education, I’m Dancing, and My Aim is True. You’ll be spared many of the Fbombs, but left with some of the most emotional and best writing of the book.
When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead
3.0
Author Rebecca Stead has created a totally unique juvenile novel featuring time travel, middle school angst, friendship, and of all things, Dick Clark and ‘70s game show, The $20,000 Pyramid.
Sixth grader Miranda, has to navigate a neglected friendship with neighbor Sal, a budding friendship with classmate Annemarie, and a conflicted friendship with Julia – all the while try to help her mother “practice” for her upcoming appearance on the game show, The $20,000 Pyramid AND figure out who the heck has been sending her very freaky and cryptic notes.
I’m not sure what to say about this novel – on one hand it was great:
• I loved Miranda’s spunk; she was a delightful character to follow, as was her mother and her group of rag-tag friends and the supporting cast of school employees and deli counter employer.
• I loved the time period – I was a grade schooler in the ‘70’s – so the essence of the book was very familiar and comforting – and who my age hasn’t watched The $20,000 Pyramid at least a gazillion times. And it’s true, Dick Clark never ages (at least until recently when he had his stroke).
On the other hand, I thought it was odd:
• The time travel thing just didn’t work for me. I understand that the author was trying to pay homage to A Wrinkle in Time – but dare I say I’m not too fond of that book either (is that literary sacrilege?). But it was awkward and confusing.
• And who was the audience for this book? Once again, all of the 5 star reviews are primarily from adult, white women -- are the 9-12 year olds (for whom this book is intended), liking it as much at the adult audience? I can’t answer that – because I don’t think they have Goodreads accounts. I do know this book would be over the head of my 9 year old and the majority of our Mother/Daughter book group participants. And when I read juv fiction – that’s who I’m trying to “channel.”
So, it was quirky and somewhat endearing, but it didn’t meet my expectations.
Sixth grader Miranda, has to navigate a neglected friendship with neighbor Sal, a budding friendship with classmate Annemarie, and a conflicted friendship with Julia – all the while try to help her mother “practice” for her upcoming appearance on the game show, The $20,000 Pyramid AND figure out who the heck has been sending her very freaky and cryptic notes.
I’m not sure what to say about this novel – on one hand it was great:
• I loved Miranda’s spunk; she was a delightful character to follow, as was her mother and her group of rag-tag friends and the supporting cast of school employees and deli counter employer.
• I loved the time period – I was a grade schooler in the ‘70’s – so the essence of the book was very familiar and comforting – and who my age hasn’t watched The $20,000 Pyramid at least a gazillion times. And it’s true, Dick Clark never ages (at least until recently when he had his stroke).
On the other hand, I thought it was odd:
• The time travel thing just didn’t work for me. I understand that the author was trying to pay homage to A Wrinkle in Time – but dare I say I’m not too fond of that book either (is that literary sacrilege?). But it was awkward and confusing.
• And who was the audience for this book? Once again, all of the 5 star reviews are primarily from adult, white women -- are the 9-12 year olds (for whom this book is intended), liking it as much at the adult audience? I can’t answer that – because I don’t think they have Goodreads accounts. I do know this book would be over the head of my 9 year old and the majority of our Mother/Daughter book group participants. And when I read juv fiction – that’s who I’m trying to “channel.”
So, it was quirky and somewhat endearing, but it didn’t meet my expectations.
Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace by Ayelet Waldman
4.0
From the moment I brought my daughter home from the hospital 9 ½ years ago (and the two other children that followed) there hasn’t been a day go by that I haven’t thought of how bad I am at mothering. When trying to embrace “co-parenting” and allowing my then 3 week old to sleep on my chest, I fell desperately asleep, then was suddenly startled awake to realize she had rolled off my chest and onto the floor. When my second son was born, I spiraled into previous unknown depths of depression and misery. I couldn’t stand the sight of him and wondered where this foreign looking creature came from and how I could give him back. When my third child was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect at 28 weeks gestation, I blamed myself for drinking too much Dr. Pepper, forgetting to take my prenatal vitamins for two weeks while we were on vacation in New York – even going so far as to blame my proximity to the microwave for his malformed heart.
Now my “bad” mothering encompasses yelling too much, spending too much time on the computer, throwing away countless school assignments, and not being a presence at school parties.
In Aylete Waldman’s treatise on motherhood – Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace, she writes brilliantly, that, guess what moms – we are OK and our kids will be just fine.
Her commentary covers everything from her relationship with her husband to her mother-in-law (a chapter I actually skipped, because my mother in law died a year after our daughter was born); she tackles breast feeding Nazis, her battle with bipolar disorder, her son’s failure to thrive at 2 weeks and another son’s ADHD. The most poignant, painful and heartbreaking is the chapter on “Rocketship” her third child, who was diagnosed with a chromosomal defect during an amniocentesis. After an intense internal battle, she decides to terminate her pregnancy. In blunt prose she admits, “…I killed him.” I’m not here to cast judgment on Ms. Waldman, but, boy, that was a tough chapter to get through.
Ultimately, Ms. Waldman councils: I think it’s worth trying to be a mother who delights in who her children are…a mother who spends less time obsessing about what will happen, or what has happened and more time reveling in what IS. A mother who doesn’t fret over failings and slights…a mother who doesn’t worry so much about being bad or good, but just recognizes she’s both and neither. A mother who does her best, and for whom that is good enough, even if, in the end, her best turns out to be, simply, not bad.
I want to be that mother – a mother that knows her failings and limitations, but also knows that she loves her children desperately, and that even when I think I’m bad, I’m still pretty darn good.
Now my “bad” mothering encompasses yelling too much, spending too much time on the computer, throwing away countless school assignments, and not being a presence at school parties.
In Aylete Waldman’s treatise on motherhood – Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace, she writes brilliantly, that, guess what moms – we are OK and our kids will be just fine.
Her commentary covers everything from her relationship with her husband to her mother-in-law (a chapter I actually skipped, because my mother in law died a year after our daughter was born); she tackles breast feeding Nazis, her battle with bipolar disorder, her son’s failure to thrive at 2 weeks and another son’s ADHD. The most poignant, painful and heartbreaking is the chapter on “Rocketship” her third child, who was diagnosed with a chromosomal defect during an amniocentesis. After an intense internal battle, she decides to terminate her pregnancy. In blunt prose she admits, “…I killed him.” I’m not here to cast judgment on Ms. Waldman, but, boy, that was a tough chapter to get through.
Ultimately, Ms. Waldman councils: I think it’s worth trying to be a mother who delights in who her children are…a mother who spends less time obsessing about what will happen, or what has happened and more time reveling in what IS. A mother who doesn’t fret over failings and slights…a mother who doesn’t worry so much about being bad or good, but just recognizes she’s both and neither. A mother who does her best, and for whom that is good enough, even if, in the end, her best turns out to be, simply, not bad.
I want to be that mother – a mother that knows her failings and limitations, but also knows that she loves her children desperately, and that even when I think I’m bad, I’m still pretty darn good.
The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott by Kelly O'Connor McNees
4.0
Reimagining the lives of deceased women authors is literary vogue: Jane Austen and The Bronte sisters have all been recreated in memoir-like fashion, as have the characters from their many novels.
Kelly O’Connor McNees has now added The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott to the list of “biographical” fiction – and I’m so glad she did.
Louisa is the fiercely independent daughter of Bronson and Abigail Alcott – and along with her three sisters, has settled in Walpole, Massachusetts, much against Louisa’s desires. At 22, she is eager to become a writer and to set off on her own in Boston to pursue her dreams. However, because of her father’s ideals and lofty philosophical beliefs (which results in no job and no income) she must stay at home and help her family subsist on virtually nothing.
In spite of the meagerness of their lives, Louisa enjoys the friendships of a group of young Walpolians – they entertain themselves with picnics at the swimming hole and producing theatre for the community. One such friend is Joseph Singer, a dashing young store clerk who shares Louisa’s love of poetry and literature. It is clear that Joseph is smitten with Louisa’s verve and intellect, but Louisa is determined that she is above and beyond having a relationship with this suitor. What proceeds, is a wonderful, if not bittersweet love story.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The character of LMA is exactly how I had her imagined – extremely independent and willing to sacrifice most everything for the sake of her writing (including her romantic/personal happiness). From what little I know of LMA, I thought the author did a skillful job of interweaving fact and fiction – including the use of the known friends of the Alcotts – Emerson and Thoreau. She vividly recreates 19th century rural life, which although harsh, seems very bucolic. She also had a spare, but beautiful prose that reflected the style of LMA.
I’m eager to indulge on the writings of LMA after reading this book.
And if you are looking for a “summer read” then The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott should be on your list!
Kelly O’Connor McNees has now added The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott to the list of “biographical” fiction – and I’m so glad she did.
Louisa is the fiercely independent daughter of Bronson and Abigail Alcott – and along with her three sisters, has settled in Walpole, Massachusetts, much against Louisa’s desires. At 22, she is eager to become a writer and to set off on her own in Boston to pursue her dreams. However, because of her father’s ideals and lofty philosophical beliefs (which results in no job and no income) she must stay at home and help her family subsist on virtually nothing.
In spite of the meagerness of their lives, Louisa enjoys the friendships of a group of young Walpolians – they entertain themselves with picnics at the swimming hole and producing theatre for the community. One such friend is Joseph Singer, a dashing young store clerk who shares Louisa’s love of poetry and literature. It is clear that Joseph is smitten with Louisa’s verve and intellect, but Louisa is determined that she is above and beyond having a relationship with this suitor. What proceeds, is a wonderful, if not bittersweet love story.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The character of LMA is exactly how I had her imagined – extremely independent and willing to sacrifice most everything for the sake of her writing (including her romantic/personal happiness). From what little I know of LMA, I thought the author did a skillful job of interweaving fact and fiction – including the use of the known friends of the Alcotts – Emerson and Thoreau. She vividly recreates 19th century rural life, which although harsh, seems very bucolic. She also had a spare, but beautiful prose that reflected the style of LMA.
I’m eager to indulge on the writings of LMA after reading this book.
And if you are looking for a “summer read” then The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott should be on your list!
Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women by Geraldine Brooks
2.0
My review can be found here: http://www.gerberadaisydiaries.com/2010/07/july-book-group-and-book-review-nine.html
Tallgrass by Sandra Dallas
2.0
http://www.gerberadaisydiaries.com/2010/07/book-review-tallgrass.html
Backseat Saints by Joshilyn Jackson
4.0
Rose Mae Lolley has been abandoned, physically beaten and left for dead. Now, trying to save her soul and herself, she blasts out of her father in law’s gun shop prior to what would have been the final thrashing by her husband, Thom, to embark on a journey to reconnect with her past that includes ghosts from her hometown of Fruiton, Alabama and her alcoholic father. Her destination: her mother, who left Rose Mae at the age of 8. Along for the ride – Rose Mae’s dog, “fat Gretel” and a host of Catholic Saints who vividly take up residence in the back seat.
From the time you open the first page of this book, you are immediately on board some kind of black-comedy, dysfunctional, roller coaster ride! In an attempt to try to kill her husband, Rose Mae (officially Ro, by know) the author writes this brilliant, Abbott & Costello-worthy scene that has Rose rolling in bushes, while trying to take aim at her husband – and instead of shooting him, hits something far more valuable. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or try to intervene.
The pace of the book is break-neck – there wasn’t a moment to catch my breath between Rose Mae’s beatings, her hospital stays, her “getaway” and her destination. My heart raced to the point I think I must have broken out in a sweat during some of the final scenes in this book.
The author has a vibrant, modern, quirky narrative style that just sucked me in from the first metaphor. To the point that I wondered, “why haven’t I read anything by her before?”
My only complaint about this book is the author often talked about “how long” Rose Mae had been away from her home town and how stuck in time her childhood home remained. In my mind, the story portrayed Rose Mae as much older than her barely 30 years – and her hometown a relic of the ‘50s not the ‘80s. Also, two characters from Rose Mae’s past are interwoven through Ro’s journey to safety, which I just didn’t quite get. Granted, Rose Mae is featured in one of the author’s previous books, “gods in Alabama” so it could be that not having read that, I was missing something, but their inclusion, seemed awkward.
But honestly, I loved this book! And the ending – wow – if there had been someone in my house listening to me, they would have heard an audible gasp when I got to that point. It was perfectly satisfying in every way.
For the sensitive reader: Graphic sex, domestic abuse and language.
Book source: Public library
From the time you open the first page of this book, you are immediately on board some kind of black-comedy, dysfunctional, roller coaster ride! In an attempt to try to kill her husband, Rose Mae (officially Ro, by know) the author writes this brilliant, Abbott & Costello-worthy scene that has Rose rolling in bushes, while trying to take aim at her husband – and instead of shooting him, hits something far more valuable. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or try to intervene.
The pace of the book is break-neck – there wasn’t a moment to catch my breath between Rose Mae’s beatings, her hospital stays, her “getaway” and her destination. My heart raced to the point I think I must have broken out in a sweat during some of the final scenes in this book.
The author has a vibrant, modern, quirky narrative style that just sucked me in from the first metaphor. To the point that I wondered, “why haven’t I read anything by her before?”
My only complaint about this book is the author often talked about “how long” Rose Mae had been away from her home town and how stuck in time her childhood home remained. In my mind, the story portrayed Rose Mae as much older than her barely 30 years – and her hometown a relic of the ‘50s not the ‘80s. Also, two characters from Rose Mae’s past are interwoven through Ro’s journey to safety, which I just didn’t quite get. Granted, Rose Mae is featured in one of the author’s previous books, “gods in Alabama” so it could be that not having read that, I was missing something, but their inclusion, seemed awkward.
But honestly, I loved this book! And the ending – wow – if there had been someone in my house listening to me, they would have heard an audible gasp when I got to that point. It was perfectly satisfying in every way.
For the sensitive reader: Graphic sex, domestic abuse and language.
Book source: Public library
The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway
5.0
A cellist; an act of defiance and of hope; three lives devastated by war and their ability to survive at all costs.
On May 27, 1992 a mortar shell struck a market during the Siege of Sarajevo, killing 22 people, injuring many others, who were simply waiting in line for a loaf of bread.
As an act of humanity and resistance, Vedran Smailović, a renowned Sarajevan cellist, played Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor for 22 days in the same bombed-out market square, to honor his fellow citizens.
In author Steven Galloway’s fictional account of the cellist and the siege, humanity is brought to the basic level of survival. Told through the eyes of 3 citizens – Arrow, a sniper; Dragan, a baker and Kenan, a father – the daily necessities of food, water and endurance are told in a bleak but astounding narrative.
The act of simply walking in the streets of Sarajevo were life threatening. Snipers sat in the hillsides taking aim at their targets as if they were ducks in a carnival attraction. What separated those who made it across bridges or streets to the safety of a nearby building was nothing more than luck or chance.
This novel was brilliant and poetic in its narrative. The pallor of war settled on me while I was reading this book. I had to look at the window on occasion to make sure mortar shells weren’t dropping in my driveway.
My only complaint was the lack of a map of the city – the topography of Sarajevo – mountains, hills, valley, rivers – were as much a character of this novel as were the actual humans – that it would have been nice to have something in the front of the book to refer to while reading. But that is a minor complaint.
This was amazing.
On May 27, 1992 a mortar shell struck a market during the Siege of Sarajevo, killing 22 people, injuring many others, who were simply waiting in line for a loaf of bread.
As an act of humanity and resistance, Vedran Smailović, a renowned Sarajevan cellist, played Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor for 22 days in the same bombed-out market square, to honor his fellow citizens.
In author Steven Galloway’s fictional account of the cellist and the siege, humanity is brought to the basic level of survival. Told through the eyes of 3 citizens – Arrow, a sniper; Dragan, a baker and Kenan, a father – the daily necessities of food, water and endurance are told in a bleak but astounding narrative.
The act of simply walking in the streets of Sarajevo were life threatening. Snipers sat in the hillsides taking aim at their targets as if they were ducks in a carnival attraction. What separated those who made it across bridges or streets to the safety of a nearby building was nothing more than luck or chance.
This novel was brilliant and poetic in its narrative. The pallor of war settled on me while I was reading this book. I had to look at the window on occasion to make sure mortar shells weren’t dropping in my driveway.
My only complaint was the lack of a map of the city – the topography of Sarajevo – mountains, hills, valley, rivers – were as much a character of this novel as were the actual humans – that it would have been nice to have something in the front of the book to refer to while reading. But that is a minor complaint.
This was amazing.
Thousand Sisters: My Journey Into the Worst Place on Earth to Be a Woman, A by Lisa J. Shannon
3.0
Lisa Shannon actually does more than the feigned attempt most of us give to a crisis, “oh, how I wish we could help!” is often the refrain. After watching an episode devoted to the crisis in the Congo on Oprah (leave it to Oprah!), Lisa is determined to make a difference in the lives of women who have been tortured, beaten, raped, mutilated, by the hands of invaders as well and their own countrymen. She runs marathons, she raises money, and she travels to the Congo in hopes that she alone can make a life better. And for the most part she does - -she brings gifts, she brings light, and I think she brings hope. She doesn’t bring peace or the end to their suffering – but nothing buy a higher power could possibly attain that result.
A Thousand Sisters is an emotional, grueling, upsetting personal account of Lisa’s attempt to make change. She spends 5 weeks in the Congo befriending and listening to the horror stories of women, who have survived. Her storytelling is wrought with pain and suffering. But whether or not she accomplishes anything is of little consequence, because at least, ladies, she tried.
I thought this was an amazing story. However, I wasn’t sure if this story was for Lisa or if this story was for the women of Congo. I suppose any memoir, by nature, is self centered, so I can’t necessarily fault the author on that basis. But many times her narrative sure seemed to slide toward the, “Wow – look at what I am doing to save the World!” attitude, which was distasteful. Also, I will never get used to what author Bernice McFadden calls writing from “white privilege” this notion of white people writing as advocates for blackness. Even though she is referring to fiction, I had this overriding feeling of “white-man going in to save the savages” with this book. I’m sure that wasn’t the author’s intent and it was my own hang up, but it tripped me up on occasion. Also, there was a typo – my biggest pet peeve ever – she used STATIONARY when refereeing to writing paper instead of STATIONERY. Ugh! I wish I could remember the page, but trust me, it’s there.
This was a worthy account to bring focus on the tragedy of the Congo – but for a book, Left to Tell is infinitely better in telling a survivor’s story from the point of view of the survivor (and directly related to the Congo, by telling the story of the Rwandan genocide).
A Thousand Sisters is an emotional, grueling, upsetting personal account of Lisa’s attempt to make change. She spends 5 weeks in the Congo befriending and listening to the horror stories of women, who have survived. Her storytelling is wrought with pain and suffering. But whether or not she accomplishes anything is of little consequence, because at least, ladies, she tried.
I thought this was an amazing story. However, I wasn’t sure if this story was for Lisa or if this story was for the women of Congo. I suppose any memoir, by nature, is self centered, so I can’t necessarily fault the author on that basis. But many times her narrative sure seemed to slide toward the, “Wow – look at what I am doing to save the World!” attitude, which was distasteful. Also, I will never get used to what author Bernice McFadden calls writing from “white privilege” this notion of white people writing as advocates for blackness. Even though she is referring to fiction, I had this overriding feeling of “white-man going in to save the savages” with this book. I’m sure that wasn’t the author’s intent and it was my own hang up, but it tripped me up on occasion. Also, there was a typo – my biggest pet peeve ever – she used STATIONARY when refereeing to writing paper instead of STATIONERY. Ugh! I wish I could remember the page, but trust me, it’s there.
This was a worthy account to bring focus on the tragedy of the Congo – but for a book, Left to Tell is infinitely better in telling a survivor’s story from the point of view of the survivor (and directly related to the Congo, by telling the story of the Rwandan genocide).
Every Last One by Anna Quindlen
3.0
http://www.gerberadaisydiaries.com/2010/08/book-review-every-last-one.html
Mary Beth and Glen Latham have the typical middle class life – he a successful optometrist, she a landscape designer; 3 children: 17 yr old Ruby, who is a brilliant writer and on the cusp of college and 14 yr old fraternal twins, Max and Alex –wildly opposite and in constant conflict. Life’s trials seem overwhelming – Ruby is ready to dump an clingy boyfriend, but the family is reluctant to let him go because he has become a family friend; the discord between the boys seems to grow exponentially the more Alex succeeds on the soccer field, throwing Max into deeper depression and jealousy. Then IT happens – the unimaginable that makes all the other difficulties seem like Christmas presents.
Anna Quindlen’s novel, Every Last One, is the proverbial family drama – life has its predictable ups and downs and then WHAM something completely unexpected rocks your world.
Her writing is brilliant and emotional. I was even caught teary eyed through several of the chapters.
I loved the relationships she created within this family – all very authentic and grounded. The Lathams are a family you would like as neighbors and friends. And their children would be ones you would welcome into your home and glad that they had become friends to your own children. She created beautiful family traditions – a Halloween party that was visited by all, sledding at the first major snowfall. All of this lends itself to the horrible “punch in the gut” you get later.
However, the arc of this novel was fairly predictable – I knew nothing of this novel going into it – but soon after starting it I thought, “Oh, something big is going to happen, I’m just not sure what.” And sure enough – it does. Not quite how I predicted, but fairly close. Following “IT”, the downward arc is equally predictable, but in a satisfying way.
Every Last One is a novel full of heart ache and tragedy. But it also is a story of love and survival.
Mary Beth and Glen Latham have the typical middle class life – he a successful optometrist, she a landscape designer; 3 children: 17 yr old Ruby, who is a brilliant writer and on the cusp of college and 14 yr old fraternal twins, Max and Alex –wildly opposite and in constant conflict. Life’s trials seem overwhelming – Ruby is ready to dump an clingy boyfriend, but the family is reluctant to let him go because he has become a family friend; the discord between the boys seems to grow exponentially the more Alex succeeds on the soccer field, throwing Max into deeper depression and jealousy. Then IT happens – the unimaginable that makes all the other difficulties seem like Christmas presents.
Anna Quindlen’s novel, Every Last One, is the proverbial family drama – life has its predictable ups and downs and then WHAM something completely unexpected rocks your world.
Her writing is brilliant and emotional. I was even caught teary eyed through several of the chapters.
I loved the relationships she created within this family – all very authentic and grounded. The Lathams are a family you would like as neighbors and friends. And their children would be ones you would welcome into your home and glad that they had become friends to your own children. She created beautiful family traditions – a Halloween party that was visited by all, sledding at the first major snowfall. All of this lends itself to the horrible “punch in the gut” you get later.
However, the arc of this novel was fairly predictable – I knew nothing of this novel going into it – but soon after starting it I thought, “Oh, something big is going to happen, I’m just not sure what.” And sure enough – it does. Not quite how I predicted, but fairly close. Following “IT”, the downward arc is equally predictable, but in a satisfying way.
Every Last One is a novel full of heart ache and tragedy. But it also is a story of love and survival.