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A new one—yippee! I always look forward to resting into one of Tyler’s well-told domestic dramas. Said three days constellate around Debbie’s wedding. Her mother, Gail, is left out of spa day, which doesn’t help her [Gail’s or Debbie’s?] current state of mind—her job as school administrator is in question. The last thing she needs is her ex, Max, who needs a place to stay, plus a cat to which the groom’s allergic—what else? The wedding’s looking dubious when one secret emerges and another rears its head. Oh those ceremonies, which tend to tease out buried issues. In this slim book, Tyler wittily weaves the shadows of remorse into the light of acceptance and all’s well, etc…
Writer Lila already has a full house: two daughters and her recently widowed stepfather, Bill, who wants to be part of the household. Lisa’s husband has decamped with another mother at the kids’ school and Lila’s next writing project is seriously stalled. Then her biological father, Gene, appears and needs a place to stay. He’s an actor past his prime who’s been a very sporadic presence so far. Two more wild cards: seductive but elusive Gabriel, another parent at the kids’ school, and Jepson, a neighbor who Bill employs to revive Lisa’s overgrown garden. Both are prospective love interests for Lila, but complications ensue. When Lila, desperate to fulfill her book contract, mines her own life for material, and Jepson catches a glimpse of her manuscript, all hell breaks loose. The final piece: the costumes for the school play Lila was supposed to produce but kept forgetting, brings things together in a wild and wonderful denouement. (I kept worrying about those costumes all through the book.) A delightful emotional workout.
Subtitled: A Breakdown. The author, a journalist with a published book about sex under her belt, chronicles her habitual dives into the world of all-night raves and psychedelic exploration. She’d gone off her meds for a variety of mental conditions, hooked up with a seductive stoner, yet managed to fulfill her professional obligations. Despite the long hours she spent utterly wasted, she describes wild scenes with vivid precision. I’ve read a number of novels in which protagonists indulge in similar activities and always thought it smacked of overwriting. But no, Emily tells it like it is, cycling between ecstasy and degradation. After things fell apart with the stoner, she spent some time soberly regrouping, but now she’s back in the scene, both she and it changed with the passage of time. Candid and self-reflective—quite a balancing act. Brooklyn setting.
I Heard There Was A Secret Chord
Subtitled: Music as Medicine. The author, a neuroscientist and musician (whew), delves deep into the many ways in which music can heal. He covers neuroanatomy, various ills and current therapies for them that employ music, the nature of music-making through discussions with prominent players from wide-ranging genres, and the role music plays in our lives. Levitin, despite the weight and scope of the material, has a delightful conversational style. Certain sections on technique and music theory were beyond me, so I chose to concentrate on those I could relate to more easily. And when I was done, I felt that I also had heard the joy and magic of “that secret chord.” (Title plucked from Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.)
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