Skip to main content

A Ridiculously Talented Writer

 












I have a pact with myself not to think about money in the morning. I'm like a teenager trying not to think about sex. But I'm also trying not to think about sex. Or Luke. Or death. Which means not thinking about my mother, who died on vacation last winter. There are so many things I can't think about in order to write in the morning.


Adam, my landlord, watches me walk his dog. He leans against his Benz in a suit and sparkling shoes as I come back up the driveway. He's needy in the morning. Everyone is, I suppose. He enjoys his contrast to me in my sweats and untamed hair.


When the dog and I are closer he says, "You're up early."


I'm always up early. "So are you."


"Meeting with the judge at the courthouse at seven sharp."


Admire me. Admire me. Admire JUDGE and COURTHOUSE and SEVEN SHARP.....


Many people have praised Lily King's most recent novel, "Writers and Lovers," including Curtis Sittenfeld, Tessa Hadley, and Elizabeth Strout. It's worth the buzz. I bought it last week, and I was so happy to have it over the weekend. The holidays are a particularly messy time for me, and it's therapeutic to have a book about a messy person; knowing you have the book is like knowing there is a great guest sitting in the next room, waiting for you, at all times.


"Writers and Lovers" is about money, sex, death, and family, all the things the speaker commands herself to "tune out" at the beginning. It's also about misogyny, what it means to have a "mean streak," the inner life of a Cambridge waitress, the actual quotidian demands of wait-staff work, and the emotional needs of small children. This novel has two of my favorite fictional small children--at least among the favorites I've encountered in the past year.


Also, the book is about KFUCKED--a radio station Anne Lamott invented in her memoir "Bird by Bird." KFUCKED is when your own mind turns against you. The star of "Writers and Lovers" all but persuades herself she is dying, with minimal evidence, and her neurosis is riveting to behold. It's as riveting as a book about a mountain climber in peril. If you have dealt with anxiety, the phenomenon of having a "monkey mind," then this is the book for you.


I flew through this one, and I recommend it.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more