“Hello Beautiful” by Ann Napolitano

Sam gave me this book for my birthday last year. AI suggested it to him as a substitute for Ann Patchett, whose next book doesn’t come out until June of this year. 

I think this book, as well as many of those by Ann Patchett, could be described as a “family novel,” with similar themes (love, loss, secrets). And the authors share a first name. But I don’t think the similarities extend much beyond that (though I do understand and appreciate the impulse behind the gift). 

In my opinion, Patchett’s novels are tightly plotted, and her characters are so real-seeming. In contrast, Hello Beautiful struck me as one of those novels where the author claims that the characters “write themselves” and she’s just along for the ride, letting them do whatever they want and waiting to see how it turns out. The characters (for the most part) were described in interesting, unusual detail, but somehow the sum of the parts was greater than the whole, and they didn’t add up to real people. Not to mention that William and Alice were basically colorless, blank slates, with nothing to them other than their height. 

Another thing about the book that bothered me was its timeline. It was so strictly tied to specific dates, with each chapter title noting the months and years it would cover, but I couldn’t figure out why those dates were chosen. The oldest Padavano sister was in college in the early 80s, and yet the vibe and perspectives seemed more to me like the 50s. Then, as 2001 approached and Julia was living in Manhattan, I started to think… oh no, this is another 9/11 book (which at least made sense of the timeline). But it wasn’t, at all—the terrorist attacks weren’t even mentioned in passing. The author started writing this book in 2020, and it was published in 2023, yet the story ends in 2008. Why did the author root the story in this time period? It can’t even be because of her own lived experience; if I’ve done my calculations right, the author is probably 7 years younger than the Padavano twins, and 9 years older than Cecilia’s daughter Izzy.

For most of the book, I felt like I was reading background—what was jotted down in preparation for writing a book—rather than reading the book itself. And I felt as if I were kept at arms’ length rather than being drawn in. Like with Charlie’s death, which was unexpected, but which felt stupid rather than being an emotional shock. It felt weird for the lack of feeling it inspired in me.

And yet by halfway through, I realized I was enjoying the book. Despite the chaos, despite the feeling of randomly drifting along. And the last few chapters even brought tears to my eyes. (Not enough that they overflowed, though.)

I also jotted down a line I really liked, from page 349. It was more about preparing for an expected death, but I hope that in my life I have time to apply it to retirement: “They were dismantling their habits and routines, and it was like pulling up floorboards and finding joy underneath.”

"A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" by George R R Martin

Initially, Sam wasn't thrilled about the idea of watching A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms on TV (he'd read a review that described it as "silly"), but now that we've gotten started, he's nearly giddy about it. (I'm enjoying it too, if slightly less giddily.) After seeing the first episode, I asked Sam if it had been published as a book first. "Yes," he said. "Obviously you've forgotten that I gave you a copy almost three years ago." Lo and behold, there it was, deep down in the TBR stack on my end table in the Reading Room.

I asked ChatGPT whether I should finish watching the series and then read the book, or if I should go ahead and start the book now. I was told to start now. Atlas (the nickname ChatGPT chose, under duress) is aware of the extent of my TBR: "Given what I know about you, you don't need another 'I'll get to it later' book." (They/it didn't realize this already was an "I'll get to it later" book . . . ) Atlas went on to suggest, "Treat the show as a companion, not the primary experience," describing the book as "very spoiler-light" and "one of GRRM's most charming works on the page." 

The decision having been made for me, I dove right into the book and found this to be the right choice. I enjoyed the reading experience and made my way through the book quite quickly. It’s plot-heavy and not especially thought-provoking, but this was not surprising. More surprising was that, for the most part, the story was sweet and good. There are a few horrifying moments (a lance to a horse's throat springs to mind), but nothing to the extent of the fate of Ned Stark. It almost reads like fanfiction (but well-written and worth reading). As Atlas said, "The real joy is in character, tone, and small moral moments, not shock twists." Now, if only I could manage to keep all these dang knights and Targaryens straight in my head . . .