Every Last One by Anna Qindlen
(Hutchinson, $38.99)
I said last week that enjoying a book was largely about reading it for the right reason so if you are desperate for a really good blub but don’t have a good enough excuse, Every Last One will be perfect. Mary Beth Latham is a happily married mother of three teenagers; beautiful 17-year-old Ruby and 14-year-old twins Max and Alex.
She seems happy enough with life as landscaper by day and chief cook and bottle washer by night, but trouble lurks beneath the surface of this ordinary existence. Her husband Glen is a good husband and father but Mary Beth can’t quite recall the powerful feeling that made her think “till death do us part” sounded wonderful instead of just a very, very long time.
Meanwhile, the twins don’t seem to be getting along that well: Alex is sporty and popular, while “Max the Mute” seems to prefer staying alone in his room. Sure, Ruby is beautiful now but there was her anorexia the year before and now she’s turning her lovely cold shoulder towards the boy who’s long been besotted with her. And then there’s the fact that Mary Beth cries sometimes in the car, and frankly, I would too if I had to run around after those kids the way she does but I fear Anna Quindlen has painted a very real portrait of what it is like to parent teenagers. Scary.
And that’s before the bad thing even happens.
After the bad thing happens, Mary Beth doesn’t blub very much but you certainly will. In my case, I had trouble stopping. Mind you, I just watched a clip of Anna Quindlen talking about the book at www.annaquindlen.net and she blubbed a lot while writing it so this should give you some idea of how bad the bad thing is.
If you lie awake at night worrying about how to keep your kids safe, leave this book for the moment, but if you’re keen to examine the randomness of peril and how someone like you might cope should it befall you, read it.
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