Thursday, December 15, 2016

Goodnight Nobody

Goodnight Nobody

Adult mystery
"The parents behaved as if this was perfectly normal, as if, in
fact, this were the only way they could imagine raising their young.
I couldn't figure out why. Maybe after they'd delivered their babies,
a malevolent lactation consultant had sprinkled Super-Mommy dust onto
their pillows, or had bent and whispered into each sleeping ear, From
now on, the only thing you will care about is breast feeding, toilet
training, Mommy and Me Pilates mat classes, and whether the
kindergarten's better at Greentown Friends or Upchurch Country Day."
At least in the world of adult fiction I have found someone with
a rougher transition from city life to suburbia. (True, Orono, Maine
is not in New York City's league. But, housing the University of
Maine flagship campus, it is the most urbane municipality in Penobscot
County. Veazie is the pure distilled burbs.) Like Kate Klein,
narrator of Jennifer Weiner's Goodnight Nobody, I was totally snubbed
by the wealthier moms of my kids' classmates. Unlike Kate, however, I
did not become the first to find one of these beautiful people lying
on the floor with a butcher knife buried between her shoulder blades.
Sort of give you a clue that not all is right in Paradise?
Kate's usually absent husband, Ben, is a political consultant
for politicians, some not quite so pure. Needless to say, he thinks
Kate should leave all the investigation to the police. As if she
will! The twenty-first century Stepford Wives millieu is driving her
batty. Using her journalistic talents to help bring the miscreant to
justice is the first thing in her eight months of residing in Upchurch
that makes her feel alive. And there are clues and potential villains
*Kitty, lovely murder victim, hasn't always been well heeled. Could
past liaisons or deeds be coming back to haunt her?
*She is the ghost writer for a much hated conservative columnist.
Could one of Laura Lynn's numerous nemesis have discovered the real
*Some of the trophy wives' hubbies haven't grasped the meaning of
monogamy. Could it be a secret tryst gone bad?
Mystery (my not-so-secret vice) lovers will find the novel to be
a delightfully wild ride.
On a personal note, a little over a week ago Eugene wrestled a huge
tree into the living room and put on the lights. I've been enjoying
slowly, reflectively adding our treasured ornaments. The nights I
don't go out, which will be more with the UMaine semester drawing to a
close, I sit with Joey cat beside the tree and read.
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and Joey.
jules hathaway

Sent from my iPod

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