Well into years of marraige, I think I'm rarely bored by the routine and the sameness of it all. I find deep joy in the fact that I know my spounse's "moves" and he knows mine, that our days consist of a lot of child-centric activity, that the lawn gets mowed on Sunday, that we often fall into bed too exhausted to do much more than murmur a good-night.
It is these very things--the sameness, the absence of say, the kind of sponstaneous and thrilling sex you had in your early 20s, that many of my friends complain about.
And when I hear their frustration, I think, "Yes, but if you lost it all, every boring bit of it, I bet you would do anything to get it back."
Mary Beth Latham, the loving wife and mother in Anna Quindlen's brilliant new novel, gets the chance to experience that when an act of violence destroys everything she knows.
Qundlen draws us, with perfect language, into Mary Beth's internal diologue as she struggles to deal with the choices she made that resulted in devastating loss.
It is so beautifully narrated by Hope Davis, so exquisitely peopled with thoroughly developed characters...God, I just hated this book to end.
I loved every last word of "Every Last One."
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