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"Every story has a narrator. Someone who writes it down after it's all over. Why am I the narrator of this story? I am because it is the story of my life—and of the people I love most. . . ."
Harry and Madeleine Winslow have been blessed with talent, money, and charm. Harry is a National Book Award–winning author on the cusp of greatness. Madeleine is a woman of sublime beauty and grace whose elemental goodness and serenity belie a privileged upbringing. Bonded by deep devotion, they share a love that is both envied and admired. The Winslows play host to a coterie of close friends and acolytes eager to bask in their golden radiance, whether they are in their bucolic East Hampton cottage, abroad in Rome thanks to Harry's writing grant, or in their comfortable Manhattan brownstone.
One weekend at the start of the summer season, Harry and Maddy, who are in their early forties, meet Claire and cannot help but be enchanted by her winsome youth, quiet intelligence, and disarming naivete. Drawn by the Winslows' inscrutable magnetism, Claire eagerly falls into their welcoming orbit. But over the course of the summer, her reverence transforms into a dangerous desire. By Labor Day, it is no longer enough to remain one of their hangers-on.
A story of love, lust, deception, and betrayal as seen through the omniscient eyes of Maddy's childhood friend Walter, a narrator akin to Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby, Indiscretion is a juicy, richly textured novel filled with fascinating, true-to-life characters—an irresistibly sensual page-turner that explores having it all and the consequences of wanting more.
Indiscretion also marks the debut of a remarkably gifted writer and storyteller whose unique voice bears all the hallmarks of an exciting new literary talent.
405 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 3, 2012

What is enough?...There is an innate greediness that is part of the human condition. It drove Eve to eat the apple; it impelled Bonaparte to invade Russia and caused Scott to die in the frozen wastes of the Antarctic. We have different names for it. What is curiosity other than greed for experience, for recognition, for glory? For activity to distract ourselves from ourselves? We hate the idea that we have come as far as we are going to go. And we are not content with what we have or how far we have come. We want more, whether it is food, knowledge, respect, power, or love. And that lack of contentment pushes us to try new things, to brave the unknown, to alter our lives and risk losing everything we already had.Walter suffers from his unrequited romantic love for Maddy. Claire pines for a higher rung on the social ladder, although there is more to her than her hunger. And Harry, a golden boy, with a fabulous wife, plenty of resources, great looks, talent and prospects, finds that there is something more that he wants. He is boosted by young Claire being attracted to him, as his love life at home has gone a bit soft and he is suffering pangs of insecurity re his career. Maddy, possessor of great physical beauty and more than enough wealth, wedded to a celebrated writer, wants, above all, to be loved for herself.
I love this room. Books, mostly histories and biographies, line the Chinese red walls. Military prints. On the shelves are miniature painted model soldiers. Mamelukes, hussars. One of my hobbies. I am especially fond of Napoleon’s Grande Armee. A sword that had reputedly belonged to Murat, and for which I paid a small fortune, hangs over the mantel.In fact the description of various living spaces informs us well about the people who inhabit them. The name Harry means heroic leader, but I saw little of that here. Not a person of great economic means, he spent his college summers working and joined the military after college. Honorable, definitely, but not necessarily heroic.
The notion that the past is more idyllic is absurd…What we remember is our innocence, strong limbs, physical desire. Many people are shackled by their past and are unable to look ahead with any degree of confidence because then not only don’t believe in the future, they don’t really believe in themselves.The characters here, it seems to me, are not so much looking backward through rose-tinted lenses, as they are trying to compensate for what they did not have as children. Does anyone here have a nice childhood to look back on? Not Claire, who was forced back to France for unwanted stays with an unfriendly grandmother. After her father remarried and all but abandoned her she “learned that love did not give itself freely. That if she wanted it, it had to be taken.” Not Walter who was raised in large measure by servants. Not Madeleine who pines for the love she did not receive as a child, having had a father who left strap welts on the backs of her legs. Harry had the sanest upbringing of them all. His father was a prep school instructor and he was a faculty brat, spending his youth “living on borrowed privilege.” But Walter, of them all, is the one most shackled to his youthful fantasies, the one who seems to be the most in denial.
But that doesn’t prevent us from casting a roseate glow over our memories. Some memories burn brighter, whether because they meant more or because they have assumed greater importance in our minds