“Do you know the secret to writing a good obituary?” She asked Claire. Claire shook her head no. “All the dates and degrees and statistics don’t matter,” she said. “What matters is the life itself.”
“Rose had told Claire once that men had affairs to stay married, and women had affairs to get out of their marriages.”
“Later, when her mother came in to kiss her goodnight, Claire asked her if love felt like ginger ale bubbles. “What you want,” her mother said, “is someone who can take care of you. A man who can provide for you and your children. Someone steady. Someone predictable. If you want to feel ginger ale bubbles, Claire, drink a glass of ginger ale.”
One Million Page Princess
February 11th 2014
The Obituary Writer by Ann Hood is another one that will go into my “undecided” category this year. While it has its moments of really beautiful writing, I found it extremely predictable, which is quite possibly one of my biggest pet peeves, ever. The story follows the lives of two different women in two different eras; Vivien, in 1919, is an obituary writer searching for David, the MIA love of her life, and Claire, the quintessential ‘perfect’ sixties housewife with an obsession for Jackie O and the possibility of carrying a baby that is not her husband’s. As the story progresses you learn how the two women are linked, and how they will move forward in their loveless lives.
A book like this isn’t my usual style, as I find myself usually rolling my eyes at ‘chick-lit’ more often than actually enjoying it. Especially a novel like this, that deals with women so dependent on a man for their happiness, kind of turns me off. However, despite my occasional eye roll and its predictability, I liked how it ended, and found a couple quotes that were worthy of remembering.
It was an interesting read and quick to get through, (I started it yesterday) and probably a lovely book to take on holiday with you to read on the beach.
Nothing groundbreaking, but then again so few ‘chick-lit’ books these days are *cough* Fifty Shades *cough*. And for the record? I hate the term ‘chick-lit’. Does anyone have any better suggestions?
Until next time! Xo