Oliver and Ciara meet at a fancy bodega. One is wearing a NASA bag on the shoulder; the other happens to love NASA. Discussions about famous launches ensue.
The two decide to meet--again and again--and soon a romance is brewing. But this is Dublin, in the recent past, and COVID wants to rear its head.
As the restrictions get tighter, Ciara and Oliver have a joint brainstorm. What if they use the lockdown to live together in secret? What if they really pursue this romance--but without interference from the world? What if they have fun in an apartment, and they make a point of withholding their news from prying relatives, prying friends?
Flash forward 56 days. A cop finds a rotting body in a shower. We know the body is Oliver--or it's Ciara.
This is the setup for "56 Days," a novel by Catherine Ryan Howard. It's on at least two "10 Best 2021 Thrillers" lists (in the Times and in the Washington Post). Howard notes, in a letter to the reader, that many writers made a point of avoiding the pandemic in their work. (The stories of "Younger," "Succession," and "Fiftysomething Carrie Bradshaw" come to mind.) But Howard thought: Why not *lean in* to the pandemic? Why not make a tale that is *all about* awkward post-apocalyptic trips to Tesco, and enforced travel limits, and working from home, and smelling one's stale breath in one's own face-mask?
I like a contrarian thinker, and I liked this novel. I thought of the famous Chekhov line: "A story needs only a He and a She." Some great pulpy works have drawn inspiration from the new-couple should-I-or-shouldn't-I-trust-him scenario. I'm thinking of "Double Indemnity" and "Gone Girl." Howard's novel belongs in the "Gone Girl" tradition.
I'll keep an eye on this still-sort-of-youthful career.
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