This is a classic example of me forgetting I’d even read this book, let alone reviewed it. Oddly, reading my own words is a curious adventure–hey, not bad! Well edited, truth be told. My biggest darling that needed killing was a metaphor around Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, whereby I compared the main character in Anna Quindlen’s Still Life With Bread Crumbs to the mother of the stars of S&S. Seriously, why didn’t Colonel Brandon give Mrs. Dashwood even a moment’s notice? This is a book about her, writ in the twenty-first century prose. And for once, Anna Quindlen didn’t feel obliged to put an Issue with a capital I in the story. It’s just about finding love, wherever it may be. And whenever.
Oh, and just for fun, here’s my favorite doorway in Cambridge, as of yesterday anyhow: