Her husband, Charlie, is a renowned sexologist and writer.Equal parts Alfred Kinsey and Warren Beatty, Charlie is pompous yet charming, supportive yet unfaithful; he's a firm believer that sex and love can't coexist for long, and he does little to hide his affairs.Claire's life with Charlie is an always interesting if not deeply devoted one, until Charlie is struck dead one day on the sidewalk by a falling sculpture ... Once a promising young writer, Claire had buried her ambitions to make room for Charlie's. Over the course of a year, she sees a shrink (or two), visits an oracle, hires a "botanomanist," enjoys an erotic interlude (or ten), eats too little, drinks too much, dates a hockey player, dates a billionaire, dates an actor (not any actor either, but the handsome movie star every woman in the world fantasizes about dating).As she grieves for Charlie and searches for herself, she comes to realize that she has an opportunity to find something bigger than she had before—maybe even, possibly, love.It’s hard to know how much of her own experience colors this debut novel.What is clear is that her spare writing and wry voice make The Widow’s Guide an exhilarating, insightful and moving story about loss and identity.
We're working on the problem and expect to resolve it shortly.
However, here that skill is used to absolutely no end.
The plot, engaging and amusing at the start of the novel, quickly turns flimsy, then flimsier, then ultimately gets buried under a pile of lovely words.
Few things actually happen in this book -- and those that do are telegraphed so far in advance that you spend several chapters aware of and waiting (with increasing On the plus side, I think Carole Radziwill writes beautifully.
Few things actually happen in this book -- and those that do are telegraphed so far in advance that you spend several chapters aware of and waiting (with increasing impatience) for the inevitable.