Heir to the Glimmering World

I tend not to love Louise Penny books, and I thought the most recent one ("All the Devils Are Here") was particularly distasteful and irritating. I thought this because I found Gamache so tiresome; so relentlessly "correct"; so obviously superior to his son. Enough already.

It was a relief to move on to Stephen King, who is a bit less pious. (I'm talking about King's new-ish novel, "Later.")

Trust Stephen King to feature vomit, a grotesque reference to human-torture-by-means-of-blow-torch, ghosts wandering around with just half-a-head, OxyContin, bayou threesomes, drug-running evil cops, and a splash of incest.

You don't really need to know the plot of "Later." Just trust that it has a wondrous, childlike quality, the way Stephen King's best writing does. And it's under 300 pages. Hurray!

Finally, know that this one is set mostly in Manhattan, and it's a treat to see King wandering around this terrain. (I don't think Manhattan has been a major part of his fictive landscape, thus far.) You'll encounter Dalton, Central Park (which is its own precinct!), publishing lunches, taxis at war with Uber. You'll also see a child sleeping each night in a tiny alcove, because Mom needs to convert one bedroom into an office, because owning an actual office post-Madoff seems impossible. Anyone who has attempted to live in New York City will relate to the characters in this scene.

I was pleased to spend a few days with this book.

Comments

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...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog