Eduardo Santiago

Skip it. Blasphemy, I know, but consider: Equal Rites and Mort, Sir Terry’s first decent books, are 1987 and 1988 respectively. The dreadful Color of Magic is 1983. These stories, with one exception, are 1970-1975! Publishing them is like grabbing Picasso’s third-grade sketches off his parents’ fridge. Sure, there are tiny recognizable glimmers of what is to come, but they’re stepping stones. None of this is actually good nor worth reading.

Plot twist: I found myself growing angry as I read. In a book that is in every possible way entirely about love. Why are some people such meddling busybodies? How DARE they prescribe a one-size-fits-all lifestyle, and hurt those who don’t fit in? I’m looking right at you, churches. Fuck you all.

Anyhow. This is a lovely book that, in a better world, would not be necessary. Each chapter is a portrait of real people in what some neurotics (see above) would call unconventional relationships. Each is intimate, sometimes bordering on uncomfortably so. Necessary, given the nature of the book. Some of the relationships come off as beautiful, some less so (to me). Some ended in heartbreak; others will one day; but every single one of them has led to growth & happiness & rewards for all involved. That’s what it’s about. That’s why we put ourselves out there and risk our hearts, “conventionally” or not.

The final chapter has great, thought-inducing material on government-sanctioned relationships: marriage, domestic partnership, a really cool legal framework in Colorado that I need to learn more about, for granting specific and distinct financial/medical end-of-life designations possibly to different people. Marriage is obviously an antiquated and idiotic institution, what surprised me is just how harmful it really can be. Worth reading for this chapter alone.

Well researched and referenced. Compassionately written, although it’s very clear that Cohen is young. This is probably a good book for younger people. Us olds, we either understand it already or we never will. It is my great fortune, a blessing, that I only hang out with people who do.

Sweet... cozy... sometimes to the point of cloying. Preachy... but entirely about values aligned with mine (kindness, community, chosen family, antiracism, resistance to bullying) so that gets a pass. Cringey levels of privilege: the love interests are all physically attractive (and we're constantly reminded of it), the main action takes place in a beautiful seaside estate without concern for anything so pedestrian as money, and all crises -- tense as they are -- get resolved rather more conveniently than is customary in (at least <i>my</i>) real life.

Still.

I liked it. Really liked it. Unashamedly. Not in a guilty-pleasure or bubblegum sort of way, either: it had depth and warmth and tension and a lot of heart.

Exquisite writing, both in terms of language and emotional power. Many sentences I had to pause to savor. Peters is a gifted writer and empath.

It is impossible to say much about this book without revealing spoilers, so here's a quick safe rundown of key points. First, Peters got the tone right. There were many angles she could've taken: misery porn, rage, handwringing. The way she crafted it was moving and effective. And second, I really want to talk about some aspects of the book, so please just read it and let's chat over coffee or a walk?

In the first few pages a twelve-year-old girl leaves her home to marry, by arrangement, a forty-something widower. Seriously? Do I really need to keep reading this?? (I did. Grudgingly. Would you believe that, just a few pages after that, my reluctance transformed into eagerness?)

This. Was. Beautiful. Okay, a bit over the top, but goddamn what a heart Verghese has! Compassion, insight, humor; an eye for the unbearable lightnesses and despairs of life. I was reminded over and over of a soap opera. One where the characters are kind, gentle, smart, talented, noble. I've never actually watched a soap, so all I have is the cartoon cultural idea of what they're like: drama, plot twists, suffering, redemption, characters larger than life; this had them all but entirely infused with tenderness.

Plus, culturally educational. Verghese writes with (what reads like) good rhythm for local customs and language. He packs in a good amount of background, all of which I found enjoyable and fascinating.

The last hundred or so pages ramped up the drama a notch, which forces me to drop my rating from six stars to five.