There is a neighbor of mine I dread; he is in no way objectionable. Every time I see him, he has an appropriate, innocuous remark, e.g., "How about this weather?" or "Gosh.....I can't find anything to do with this little guy on a half-day!" .....The reason I loathe these interactions is that they are so utterly banal. I feel myself gearing up for the performance, and I just want to scratch out my own eyes. And so I appreciated the new (Holly Gramazio) novel, "The Husbands," which is about a woman who discovers that she has a magic attic. If her husband climbs up into the attic, a time-warp transformation occurs, and a new husband emerges. Because it's so easy to dispose of husbands, the protagonist realizes that certain things in this world--overlooked things--really, truly matter. It's a problem if your husband watches too many consecutive episodes of "Mindhunter." It's a problem if your husband wears sneakers with individual ...