In the late 1970s Nora Ephron was Gawker fodder, married to Watergate journalist Carl Bernstein and pressing the flesh with all sorts of DC biggies. They had one son and another in the oven when she discovered that (insert too easy Deep Throat reference to indicate he was having an
On the surface, Dept. of Speculation is the kind of novel that would make issues forth with dismissive farty noises and a vigorous thumbs down. Struggling Brooklyn writer and mother grapples with ennui and her husband’s betrayal. PPbbbbttttt! In the parlance of the day the amount of fucks I give
Sometimes I’m reading a novel and the twist comes and I stare at the words and I think: “I don’t want to follow this story down this path. Like, at all.” Welcome to this distinction, The Dinner by Herman Koch. When this slight one-night-wonder starts, our narrator Paul Lohman and
In Matthew Quick’s The Good Luck of Right Now, Bartholomew Neil is a man who’s never held a job, had a girlfriend, or had any friends besides his mother. Coming off as somewhat autistic, Bartholomew is a smart man but has difficulty interacting with people, which caused him to be
The Circle by Dave Eggers reminds me of Albert Brooks’ 2030 – a soapbox set around flat characters. In Eggers’ novel we follow Mae, a young, new employee at The Circle, a technology company that’s pretty much like Google, Facebook, PayPal, and Wikileaks in one. We’re told at the beginning
A few years ago when I was reviewing Slut Lullabies by Gina Frangello, I made the proclamation that you must read at least three books by a writer before you could claim them as a favorite. I like to make up rules and bylaws about things. Well, guess what people?
You know when you’re in high school and you have to write a paper on anything, anything you want, so you decide to write about something weighty and out of your element and it requires trips to the library and maybe even microfiche. The more you learn, the more your