Wednesday, September 3, 2008

How to Talk to a Widower

For a borderline misanthrope like myself, How to Talk to a Widower looked like it would be just my style for a nice morsel of chick-lit. I had picked it up just before jury duty, and I was caught up in the first ten pages. Now, the story of a binge drinking, miserable sap of a writer who can't begin to try and recover from his wife's untimely death sounds pretty dull. But this character comes with a family that fills the rest of the DSM IV in neuroses, and they are the color. From the twin sister hell bent on ruining what seems to be a perfect decent home life to the CVA-damaged and senile father, I find the Parker family far more interesting than the twattish central character. I was tearing through the story at a breakneck pace, completely engrossed and delighted to ignore any potential civil duties, until I hit the ham-handed ending. The tale had grit and honesty on its side until the pasted-on Lifetime Movie Network moment hit. Luckily, I only had to endure about twenty pages of tripe, but it really ruined the story for me.

I am quite literally ambivalent about this book. The concept is not exactly unique, nor in the writing Pulitzer-worthy. However, I was happy to follow the voice of this loser for several hundred pages. I waws truly entertained. And then, I got hit by a 2X4 of stupid. I can't recommend the book because of the ending, but I can't say that I hate it.

I call this one "read at own risk." You may like it, you may hate it. Even if you feel like you can't read past the shark jump, you may just get a chuckle or two out of the side characters in this neurotic East Coast circus.