Sometimes I start a novel and think, “I’m too young for this.” Not because I’m such a hot young thing I can’t stand reading about “older” people (not at all), but because I can imagine relating better to the work when I’m a parent or wife myself.
But good books? It doesn’t matter if, on the surface, you have little in common with the main character — whether you’re 20 or 80, they drop you into their harried life and make you really feel something. And that’s what Melanie Gideon does here.
“Maybe it was those extra five pounds I’d gained. Maybe it was because I was about to turn the same age my mother was when I lost her. Maybe it was because after almost twenty years of marriage my husband and I seemed to be running out of things to say to each other.
But when the anonymous…
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