Good thing, too.
I’m reading Someone, by Alice McDermott. It’s lovely.
It reminds me a little bit of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, only because it takes place in Brooklyn, and there is a mother and two children, and the older is a beautiful boy and the younger, who is the narrator, is the less beautiful girl, but otherwise it’s not similar at all.
I was talking to someone about the Goldfinch this weekend, and the thing about the Goldfinch is how ill at ease you feel all the way through.
Bad things do happen in Someone, but in a completely different way you feel that everything is going to be all right. Although it kind of isn’t — in a way, both books end up in the same place; it’s just the process of getting there that feels different.
I read another book by Alice McDermott a long time ago. It was probably Charming Billy. I remember a similar quietness, and also the feeling of being inside the narrator’s head, figuring things out along with her. It’s wonderful.
I am tired. I think I stayed up late reading, and then I got up early.
All right, then. I believe it’s time for some coffee.