I’m not sure what made me notice this book this morning. It might have been the very complacent look on the reader’s face on a very crowded bus this a.m. Maybe it was the cover art that reminded me of what one of those ladies they used to paint on the noses of WWII bombers would look like if she had on more clothes and was experiencing some sort of existential crises.
Before having a chance to look this book up and see what it was all about, I ran across this well-written op-ed on the NYT written by Anna Holmes, founder of and contributor to jezebel. It discusses how in our collective bemusement at watching Charlie Sheen unravel, we seem to have forgotten, or worse have consciously overlooked, his history of physical violence toward women, and also how “misogyny [has become] embedded within the DNA of the reality genre.” Her observations are hard to deny.
So it is perhaps fitting that the book I saw earlier was penned by an author, Jennifer Haigh, who seems to specialize in the telling and exploring of women’s lives and the female perspective.
Has anyone else read her novels? Any thoughts?