"Down Time"--by a writer I love, Andrew Martin--is a novel in which very little happens. It's almost shocking that something so "unresolved" still found a publisher. On the website "Book Marks," literary novels rarely earn a "pan" designation. But one magazine did actually "pan" this book. And yet I really liked "Down Time." The center is Aaron, a gifted writer of short stories who is drinking himself to death. "I think I might need to go back to a place," he says to his spouse, Cassandra, after having thrown himself into a bonfire at a party. But, in rehab, Aaron meets a troubled young man, Xavier, and discovers that he (Aaron) enjoys gay sex (first exclusively on the top, but ultimately in every possible position). In the months after rehab, Aaron continues to see Xavier but keeps this a secret from Cassandra. The disturbed marriage endures several months in a "pandemic pod" with Aaron's stepmoth...
We went to the Museum of the American Indian, in Bowling Green. It's not great. There is far too much text; also, the announcement that my child's small stuffed dinosaur required an anti-terrorism X-ray scan struck me as just slightly silly. But the museum is free. My son was mostly intrigued by the bathrooms; he is deeply interested in the "men/women" distinction. By contrast, I did what I always do at museums; I pretended I owned all of the square acreage. "Welcome to my drawing room," I murmured, as I wandered through the rotunda. Perhaps I had not fully learned the lessons of Disney's "Pocahontas." ("You think you own whatever land you land on...The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim!") I see so many parents struggling to make this sort of experience "kid-friendly." How often I hear someone say, "You're going to notice something in this room! Put down that phone and notice something!" ...This always ...