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Inside
Shortlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize and the Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize, and selected as an Oprah's Book Club Summer Reading Pick, an Amazon.ca Best Book, and an iTunes Store Best Book
When Grace, a highly competent and devoted therapist in Montreal, stumbles across a man in the snowy woods who has failed to hang himself, her instinct to help immediately kicks in. Before long, however, she realizes that her feelings for this charismatic, extremely guarded stranger are far from straightforward.
At the same time, her troubled teenage patient, Annie, runs away and soon will reinvent herself in New York as an aspiring and ruthless actress, as unencumbered as humanly possible by any personal attachments. And Mitch, Grace's ex-husband, a therapist as well, leaves the woman he's desperately in love with to attend to a struggling native community in the bleak Arctic. We follow these four compelling, complex characters from Montreal and New York to Hollywood and Rwanda, each of them with a consciousness that is utterly distinct and urgently convincing. With a razor-sharp emotional intelligence, Inside poignantly explores the manifold dangers and imperatives of making ourselves available to, and indeed responsible for, those dearest to us.
When Grace, a highly competent and devoted therapist in Montreal, stumbles across a man in the snowy woods who has failed to hang himself, her instinct to help immediately kicks in. Before long, however, she realizes that her feelings for this charismatic, extremely guarded stranger are far from straightforward.
At the same time, her troubled teenage patient, Annie, runs away and soon will reinvent herself in New York as an aspiring and ruthless actress, as unencumbered as humanly possible by any personal attachments. And Mitch, Grace's ex-husband, a therapist as well, leaves the woman he's desperately in love with to attend to a struggling native community in the bleak Arctic. We follow these four compelling, complex characters from Montreal and New York to Hollywood and Rwanda, each of them with a consciousness that is utterly distinct and urgently convincing. With a razor-sharp emotional intelligence, Inside poignantly explores the manifold dangers and imperatives of making ourselves available to, and indeed responsible for, those dearest to us.
353 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2012
96 people are currently reading
2805 people want to read
About the author
Alix Ohlin
19 books219 followersAlix Ohlin is the author of The Missing Person, a novel; Babylon and Other Stories; and Signs and Wonders, a story collection. Her work has appeared in Best American Short Stories, Best New American Voices, and on public radio’s Selected Shorts. She lives in Vancouver, BC.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 436 reviews
December 15, 2016
I really wanted to give this 3 stars, but it kept getting less and less interesting. And then, coming to the end, all I could think was, "that's it?"
January 23, 2013
Don't bother.
I pretty much bought this book for its cover. Dumb move.
I was intrigued at first, but in the end I won't remember what this was about for long. This author is too young for me. Trite. Contrived prose written in the third person TELLING about all these people with superficial concerns whose lives intertwine - kinda - therapists (of course), people who go to the North and Africa to work so they can get hit with tragedies that are ultimately all about them, people who get pregnant, divorced, depressed, commit suicide . . . Geez - Phrases like "So began a period of sleeping around", descriptions of older people as 'ample' and younger ones as 'pretty'. It SO tiresomely 'young city middle class'. I have no idea why it was nominated for a prize. Boring. Awful.
I pretty much bought this book for its cover. Dumb move.
I was intrigued at first, but in the end I won't remember what this was about for long. This author is too young for me. Trite. Contrived prose written in the third person TELLING about all these people with superficial concerns whose lives intertwine - kinda - therapists (of course), people who go to the North and Africa to work so they can get hit with tragedies that are ultimately all about them, people who get pregnant, divorced, depressed, commit suicide . . . Geez - Phrases like "So began a period of sleeping around", descriptions of older people as 'ample' and younger ones as 'pretty'. It SO tiresomely 'young city middle class'. I have no idea why it was nominated for a prize. Boring. Awful.
November 5, 2015
This book has been shortlisted for the Giller Prize and the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize.
There are three interconnected story strands: that of Grace, a well-meaning but rather inept therapist in Montreal; that of Annie, a young client of Grace’s who yearns to be an actress; and that of Mitch, Grace’s ex-husband who is also a therapist. There is not a linear plot: chapters move among the various characters and cover about a decade, although not chronologically.
I had difficulty keeping track of the characters, especially when a character might not be encountered for several chapters and then might be found in an earlier time period. I think I should have made notes to help me remember a character and his/her circumstances when he/she was next encountered. Admittedly, this may be more a factor of my middle age rather than a failing of the author.
All of the characters are deeply flawed. They all try to understand others, to get “inside” their heads, because, as Grace notes, “There is a difference between the facts of a person and the truth of him.” They all allow others “inside” their lives and try to help them. Some are motivated to travel far from home, to Rwanda and Nunavut, to help others. However, Grace, Annie and Mitch are selfish and rather pathetic, so it is not difficult to predict that their attempts to help will not always meet with success. Grace realizes that “your actions radiated out to change not just your own life, but those of the people around you.” Sometimes everyone suffers because of the efforts of someone trying to be helpful.
What the characters often seem to lack is self-knowledge; they don’t always spend sufficient time getting “inside” their own heads to examine their motivations. The reader is taken into the hearts and minds of Grace, Annie, and Mitch, but the three of them frequently are not fully aware of their own feelings and thinking processes. Of course, that’s what makes them totally human characters.
This is a good book, but I’m not convinced that it is worthy of the prizes for which it has been nominated.
Please check out my reader's blog (http://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).
There are three interconnected story strands: that of Grace, a well-meaning but rather inept therapist in Montreal; that of Annie, a young client of Grace’s who yearns to be an actress; and that of Mitch, Grace’s ex-husband who is also a therapist. There is not a linear plot: chapters move among the various characters and cover about a decade, although not chronologically.
I had difficulty keeping track of the characters, especially when a character might not be encountered for several chapters and then might be found in an earlier time period. I think I should have made notes to help me remember a character and his/her circumstances when he/she was next encountered. Admittedly, this may be more a factor of my middle age rather than a failing of the author.
All of the characters are deeply flawed. They all try to understand others, to get “inside” their heads, because, as Grace notes, “There is a difference between the facts of a person and the truth of him.” They all allow others “inside” their lives and try to help them. Some are motivated to travel far from home, to Rwanda and Nunavut, to help others. However, Grace, Annie and Mitch are selfish and rather pathetic, so it is not difficult to predict that their attempts to help will not always meet with success. Grace realizes that “your actions radiated out to change not just your own life, but those of the people around you.” Sometimes everyone suffers because of the efforts of someone trying to be helpful.
What the characters often seem to lack is self-knowledge; they don’t always spend sufficient time getting “inside” their own heads to examine their motivations. The reader is taken into the hearts and minds of Grace, Annie, and Mitch, but the three of them frequently are not fully aware of their own feelings and thinking processes. Of course, that’s what makes them totally human characters.
This is a good book, but I’m not convinced that it is worthy of the prizes for which it has been nominated.
Please check out my reader's blog (http://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).
October 18, 2012
"Inside" is another of four novels nominated for Canada's major fiction award, the 2012 Giller Prize. "419" which I reviewed recently is very much a plot-driven book, while "Ru" which I have also reviewed is a memoir in novel form that is almost a lyrical poem in its magnificent language and interwoven, layered style. In contrast to both these books, "Inside" is much more driven by the depth and self-analysis of its characters. There is perhaps an over-arching theme -- best stated in a perspective from Mitch, the self-perceived failure who flails his way through the novel's dozen years: "Witnessing the pain of others," he feels, "is the very least you can do in this world. It's how you know that when your own turn comes, someone will be there with you."
But helping others by doing this is a perilous course. Grace, who cannot stop herself from trying to save Tug, the man she inadvertently saves from his suicide attempt, sees her career as a therapist shattered by the shocks this relationship brings to her life. Anne, the egotistical actress who looks ready to break into Hollywood stardom, helps a homeless runaway girl who ends up undercutting Anne's image and squeezing away her income. And Mitch, drawn to help an autistic child, finds his emotions broken by mistakes into which he is drawn. Yet even this peril may not be what really counts, for all those who suffer for their efforts to do good, nevertheless find forms of reconciliation that also affect them. The maturing and growth of character traced throughout this excellent novel help explain how such changes can and do happen.
Alix Ohlin has been criticized, in a vicious NY Times review, for her choice of language -- too much use of "weird" was one part of the charge. So I was sensitive to Ohlin's writing style -- and found the images and metaphors this author uses to be fresh and sharp throughout her book. But what matters most about this book is the depth of character shaped and probed, ranging across genders and generations, with rare sensitivity and insight. This is an excellent novel. Unlike "419" none of the circumstances set out ring other than absolutely authentic. And the writing is very good. That's why this book has been nominated not just for the Giller, but also for one of the other Canadian fiction prizes for this year.
A footnote: in tribute to her grade two teacher, who was a creative inspiration to Ohlin, the author has named several characters after "Grace Tugwell" of Montreal. Grace, who died recently, was one of the closest friends of my wife's sister. She was not only a fine teacher, but a wonderful artist.
But helping others by doing this is a perilous course. Grace, who cannot stop herself from trying to save Tug, the man she inadvertently saves from his suicide attempt, sees her career as a therapist shattered by the shocks this relationship brings to her life. Anne, the egotistical actress who looks ready to break into Hollywood stardom, helps a homeless runaway girl who ends up undercutting Anne's image and squeezing away her income. And Mitch, drawn to help an autistic child, finds his emotions broken by mistakes into which he is drawn. Yet even this peril may not be what really counts, for all those who suffer for their efforts to do good, nevertheless find forms of reconciliation that also affect them. The maturing and growth of character traced throughout this excellent novel help explain how such changes can and do happen.
Alix Ohlin has been criticized, in a vicious NY Times review, for her choice of language -- too much use of "weird" was one part of the charge. So I was sensitive to Ohlin's writing style -- and found the images and metaphors this author uses to be fresh and sharp throughout her book. But what matters most about this book is the depth of character shaped and probed, ranging across genders and generations, with rare sensitivity and insight. This is an excellent novel. Unlike "419" none of the circumstances set out ring other than absolutely authentic. And the writing is very good. That's why this book has been nominated not just for the Giller, but also for one of the other Canadian fiction prizes for this year.
A footnote: in tribute to her grade two teacher, who was a creative inspiration to Ohlin, the author has named several characters after "Grace Tugwell" of Montreal. Grace, who died recently, was one of the closest friends of my wife's sister. She was not only a fine teacher, but a wonderful artist.
May 3, 2015
I groaned when my book club chose to read this. The description on the dust jacket made the book sound trite and banal. But the dust jacket also featured a number of quotes from glowing reviews, so I thought maybe it's not so bad after all. Having now forced myself to get through it, I can report that it's worse than I'd imagined.
It's essentially a composite story filled with predictable cardboard characters with soap operatic dramas: the lonely only child who just wants to fix everyone else; the self obsessed shrink; the damaged rich girl who goes to Hollywood and then throws it all away because she thinks she's worth nothing; the former aid worker who's traumatized by going to Rwanda - which, BTW, is shockingly racist/colonialist in its depiction of African people (they like hockey - they must be 'civilized') and in its very making of the Rwandan genocide all about one white guy from Montreal. And don't even get me started on the stereotypical portrayal of the Inuit in the book ...
The writing is mediocre at best, and the stories interlock clumsily. There are more than a few significant unresolved plot elements at the end of the novel, which also manages to feature a jaw droppingly inane cliche. William Giraldi's controversial NYT's review, that eviscerated the novel, sums up the problems with the plotting quite succinctly: "By book’s end you will have counted one rape, one attempted rape, one impromptu marriage proposal, one death by cancer, one attempted suicide, three successful suicides, two car crashes in a 10-page span, four unwanted or unexpected pregnancies for three different women and a miscarriage for a fourth — all of which speak to Ohlin’s narrative technique: when in doubt, impregnate or kill." And, perhaps because I'm not Canadian (although I live here), I think blunt critique can be warranted - and in this case totally is.
Maybe I'm just not deep enough for this novel. Maybe I just don't feel my way into how we're all linked emotionally, and how we get, you know, 'inside' other people's lives. But to me, ultimately, I think the worst thing about this novel is that is presents a sense of connection that is individualized with communities presented either as non-existent or dysfunctional. It speaks from a neo-liberal perspective that assumes that what we all want it to be left alone, and when we don't want that, we simply want one lover or one child or one friend to make us complete, when I believe what will make us complete is when we stop isolating ourselves so that the idea that we are inside many other people's lives all the time isn't presented as groundbreaking, but rather just as how things are.
It's essentially a composite story filled with predictable cardboard characters with soap operatic dramas: the lonely only child who just wants to fix everyone else; the self obsessed shrink; the damaged rich girl who goes to Hollywood and then throws it all away because she thinks she's worth nothing; the former aid worker who's traumatized by going to Rwanda - which, BTW, is shockingly racist/colonialist in its depiction of African people (they like hockey - they must be 'civilized') and in its very making of the Rwandan genocide all about one white guy from Montreal. And don't even get me started on the stereotypical portrayal of the Inuit in the book ...
The writing is mediocre at best, and the stories interlock clumsily. There are more than a few significant unresolved plot elements at the end of the novel, which also manages to feature a jaw droppingly inane cliche. William Giraldi's controversial NYT's review, that eviscerated the novel, sums up the problems with the plotting quite succinctly: "By book’s end you will have counted one rape, one attempted rape, one impromptu marriage proposal, one death by cancer, one attempted suicide, three successful suicides, two car crashes in a 10-page span, four unwanted or unexpected pregnancies for three different women and a miscarriage for a fourth — all of which speak to Ohlin’s narrative technique: when in doubt, impregnate or kill." And, perhaps because I'm not Canadian (although I live here), I think blunt critique can be warranted - and in this case totally is.
Maybe I'm just not deep enough for this novel. Maybe I just don't feel my way into how we're all linked emotionally, and how we get, you know, 'inside' other people's lives. But to me, ultimately, I think the worst thing about this novel is that is presents a sense of connection that is individualized with communities presented either as non-existent or dysfunctional. It speaks from a neo-liberal perspective that assumes that what we all want it to be left alone, and when we don't want that, we simply want one lover or one child or one friend to make us complete, when I believe what will make us complete is when we stop isolating ourselves so that the idea that we are inside many other people's lives all the time isn't presented as groundbreaking, but rather just as how things are.
June 10, 2012
I love all of Alix Ohlin’s writing—from her first collection of stories, Babylon and Other Stories, to her first novel, The Missing Person. But Inside is my favorite work of hers to date.
Inside is aptly titled given that Ohlin has a preternatural ability to penetrate her characters’ minds and hearts. This, even more than Ohlin’s gorgeous prose and carefully crafted plot, is the reason to read Inside. As Ohlin maps out the lives of her disparate characters—from an up-and-coming actress in New York and L.A. to a former relief worker in Rwanda—she makes visible the inner workings of absolute strangers. (I say strangers because as I read Inside, I began to feel that Ohlin’s characters were actually real people I didn’t use to know and now do.) In making visible what is dim at best in others, Ohlin offers the possibility that this kind of seeing may not be an impossible feat—and that we therefore may also see others, and be seen, with an eye not just to the specific form our troubles have taken but also to our kinship.
When reading Inside, I was reminded of D.H. Lawrence’s “Odour of Chrysanthemums,” in which a woman, when presented with her husband’s corpse, confronts the reality that she never really knew him—the implication being that we can never really know another. 'Was this what it all meant - utter, intact separateness, obscured by the heat of living? In dread, she turned her face away.” Inside is so beautiful because Ohlin doesn’t turn away.
Inside is aptly titled given that Ohlin has a preternatural ability to penetrate her characters’ minds and hearts. This, even more than Ohlin’s gorgeous prose and carefully crafted plot, is the reason to read Inside. As Ohlin maps out the lives of her disparate characters—from an up-and-coming actress in New York and L.A. to a former relief worker in Rwanda—she makes visible the inner workings of absolute strangers. (I say strangers because as I read Inside, I began to feel that Ohlin’s characters were actually real people I didn’t use to know and now do.) In making visible what is dim at best in others, Ohlin offers the possibility that this kind of seeing may not be an impossible feat—and that we therefore may also see others, and be seen, with an eye not just to the specific form our troubles have taken but also to our kinship.
When reading Inside, I was reminded of D.H. Lawrence’s “Odour of Chrysanthemums,” in which a woman, when presented with her husband’s corpse, confronts the reality that she never really knew him—the implication being that we can never really know another. 'Was this what it all meant - utter, intact separateness, obscured by the heat of living? In dread, she turned her face away.” Inside is so beautiful because Ohlin doesn’t turn away.
February 6, 2013
Can any of us really save another person? Or is each of us solely responsible for his or her own life? That's the question lurking behind Alix Ohlin's astute novel, which follows three separate characters: Grace, a therapist who's consulting with a disturbed teenage girl; Mitch, also a therapist, who moves all the way to the Arctic trying to rescue a young Inuit who's lost his whole family; and Anne, a struggling actress, who lets a pregnant runaway move into her apartment—and take over. Ohlin is a master short-story writer (see Signs and Wonders), and the early chapters of the book may feel like discrete tales. Very soon, though, you'll see how they're all intertwined, not just in terms of the characters' shared pasts in Montreal but also in the struggle with self-isolation. "There is a difference between the facts of the person and the truth of him," Grace says, trying to connect with her lover, a depressed aid worker who's just attempted suicide. Like Mitch and Anne, she can't quite reveal herself to others, presenting one version of herself at home and another during counseling sessions. At times, she even declares, "People do whatever they want, no matter what we say." A surprise car accident, however, forces her to do what she most fears—let someone else save her.
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/blogs/index.html...
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/blogs/index.html...
September 20, 2012
There is no easing into Alix Ohlin’s latest novel, Inside. In one chilling, breathless moment, Grace comes upon an unconscious man off the side of the trail down which she’s skiing on a mountain in Montreal. A fallen skier? An unplanned detour? Unexpected injury? No, it’s none of these. It becomes apparent quite quickly that John “Tug” Tugwell has just attempted suicide, and Grace is the first to come across the scene. Saving a man’s life, however, is not enough when you’re a therapist. Grace is compelled to follow up with Tug. She accompanies the ambulance to the hospital, is there when he wakes, and before long, she’s helping him home. From here on out, we the readers are swept along for the ride.
Next, we meet Annie, one of Grace’s troubled patients, a young woman who is anything but patient with the theory of psychology. Annie is everything you don’t wish for in a teenager: petulant, rebellious, caustic with her words and manipulative with her manner. Oddly, however, she is not likely who you will dislike the most. Enter Mitch, Grace’s ex-husband, also an essential player in the story. Mitch is also a therapist, and comes back into Grace’s life in the most unexpected way.
Ohlin strings together the lives of these four richly developed characters with such clarity and sharpness of writing. As the readers, we begin to sympathize, but the characters themselves never become precious; they are too human for that. All over the globe from Canada to New York, Rwanda to Hollywood, the subjects of Ohlin’s novel orbit around one another, making disastrous decisions – yet evoking no sense of hopelessness or pity in us. Instead, Ohlin keeps such a strong hold on her language, remaining meticulously generous in a way that allows her characters to grow from the foundation she has set for them. We can easily imagine that Ohlin simply penned the outline of the story and then set the characters free upon the page to play out the story as humanly possible as they could.
Ultimately, Inside is a story of relationships: those we cherish, those we cling to desperately, those we push away and those we let slip away. Ohlin’s Grace, Tug, Annie and Mitch are the perfect foursome to tell this story.
Head to www.EverydayeBook.com for more eBook reviews
Next, we meet Annie, one of Grace’s troubled patients, a young woman who is anything but patient with the theory of psychology. Annie is everything you don’t wish for in a teenager: petulant, rebellious, caustic with her words and manipulative with her manner. Oddly, however, she is not likely who you will dislike the most. Enter Mitch, Grace’s ex-husband, also an essential player in the story. Mitch is also a therapist, and comes back into Grace’s life in the most unexpected way.
Ohlin strings together the lives of these four richly developed characters with such clarity and sharpness of writing. As the readers, we begin to sympathize, but the characters themselves never become precious; they are too human for that. All over the globe from Canada to New York, Rwanda to Hollywood, the subjects of Ohlin’s novel orbit around one another, making disastrous decisions – yet evoking no sense of hopelessness or pity in us. Instead, Ohlin keeps such a strong hold on her language, remaining meticulously generous in a way that allows her characters to grow from the foundation she has set for them. We can easily imagine that Ohlin simply penned the outline of the story and then set the characters free upon the page to play out the story as humanly possible as they could.
Ultimately, Inside is a story of relationships: those we cherish, those we cling to desperately, those we push away and those we let slip away. Ohlin’s Grace, Tug, Annie and Mitch are the perfect foursome to tell this story.
Head to www.EverydayeBook.com for more eBook reviews
November 22, 2012
This book is exactly why literature exceeds all forms of culture and communications as a means of dealing with the human condition. Ohlin takes a idealized element of our society - therapists - shows us not only the complex individuals that they are, but also the people they have tried to heal once they have left their care. And not always with a 'happy ending.'
Page 254:
In the nights to come Mitch lost the ability to sleep. He watched old movies in the middle of the night, spent hours with the Weather Channel. He went to work and got through the group-therapy sessions on autopilot; he listened intensely to the participants' stories but forgot them immediately; when writing up his notes he couldn't remember much of what they'd said, and his scrawled observations seemed like the thoughts of a stranger. He called no on.e He ran five miles a day, his skin flooded with warmth against the increasingly cold air. In November, a freezing rainstorm encased the leafless tress in ice, the salt on sidewalks crunching beneath his feet. The Habs lost to the Maple Leafs. His fantasy picks were a shambles.
He didn't take up drinking; he didn't miss a day of work. He wasn't even sure that other people could see the numbness inside him, the mechanical nature of his commintment to his own life.
There came a time when, without quite noticing at first, he was sleeping through the night. The running helped, and so did work. He wouldn't have said that his spirits, for lack of anything else to do were rising; he wouldn't have wanted to admit that. He would have siad that he came from a family where each peoson had a talent. Their mother's was to take care of them. Malcolm's was to be happy. His was to let things go.
Page 254:
In the nights to come Mitch lost the ability to sleep. He watched old movies in the middle of the night, spent hours with the Weather Channel. He went to work and got through the group-therapy sessions on autopilot; he listened intensely to the participants' stories but forgot them immediately; when writing up his notes he couldn't remember much of what they'd said, and his scrawled observations seemed like the thoughts of a stranger. He called no on.e He ran five miles a day, his skin flooded with warmth against the increasingly cold air. In November, a freezing rainstorm encased the leafless tress in ice, the salt on sidewalks crunching beneath his feet. The Habs lost to the Maple Leafs. His fantasy picks were a shambles.
He didn't take up drinking; he didn't miss a day of work. He wasn't even sure that other people could see the numbness inside him, the mechanical nature of his commintment to his own life.
There came a time when, without quite noticing at first, he was sleeping through the night. The running helped, and so did work. He wouldn't have said that his spirits, for lack of anything else to do were rising; he wouldn't have wanted to admit that. He would have siad that he came from a family where each peoson had a talent. Their mother's was to take care of them. Malcolm's was to be happy. His was to let things go.
July 16, 2019
Having no idea what this book was about, it was an absolute delight. It is more about what goes on inside a person than any particular plot. The characters are completely believable.
August 27, 2012
Okay, I wanted to like this book - it was about a therapist, so it should have been right up my alley. But I got about 1/3 into it and I just thought, "This book is not doing anything for me, why am I wasting my time waiting for this to get better?" So, I stopped. It started out well enough - therapist skiing, stumbles across a man trying to kill himself, she stops him takes him home, starts "therapizing." Then things shift to her guilt about her life and the reader loses track of the man and the intricacy of that relationship and moves into "when I was young I did something I have a lot of guilt for therefore I shall moan about it forever." Urgh. So, it could have gotten better, I don't know. But for me, it wasn't better fast enough.
April 9, 2013
I can't quite get myself to liking this book. I think it was just Ohlin's writing style in this that didn't grab me. I found the prose to be a little lack-lustre for my personal taste. But the characters are complex and their relationships are intelligently portrayed. I just didn't have an emotional attachment to any of them. Is there a "Montreal-style" of writing? I feel like authors from Montreal often portray the same mood in their novels. Upon completion of Ohlin's book I feel the same as I did after finishing Nino Ricci's Origin of Species: a little sad and a little bored.
December 11, 2020
Really found this book striking and hard to put down. It felt like life, with crises and love and tragedy and beauty. Initially I had a hard time keeping track of the characters, but once their relationships were more clear I had an easier time. Reminiscent of Sally Rooney but a bit more mature and less concise.
September 27, 2012
Alix Ohlin’s Inside is the only novel this year to be nominated for both the ScotiaBank Giller and the Rogers Writers’ Trust fiction prizes. That’s quite an accomplishment for a book that was so viciously slammed by William Giraldi in The New York Times Sunday Book Review:
Ohlin’s language betrays an appalling lack of register — language that limps onto the page proudly indifferent to pitch or vigor. Mitch’s “heart sang” and then Mitch’s “heart sank”; poor Mitch “felt his heart cracking like ice cubes in warm water.” Annie “had touched Grace’s heart” but had also “gotten under her skin.” Grace feels “marooned on her own private island” and then “her nerves were singing.” In just 13 pages you will be asked to endure eyes “fluttering,” then “shining,” then “fluttering” again. Mitch’s girlfriend is “brilliantly smart” — imagine for a second the special brand of languor required to connect those two terms — and also blows her nose “goose-honkingly hard.” Ohlin’s preferred simile is some variation of the lazy “like a child,” and she has a baffling fondness for the most worthless word in English: “weird.”
Giraldi obviously needs to get over himself, but for all its negativity his review did do one positive thing. It ensured that his novel, Busy Monsters, will never find its way onto my to-read pile. Hooray for one less book to worry about reading!
READ MORE:
http://www.typographicalera.com/insid...
Ohlin’s language betrays an appalling lack of register — language that limps onto the page proudly indifferent to pitch or vigor. Mitch’s “heart sang” and then Mitch’s “heart sank”; poor Mitch “felt his heart cracking like ice cubes in warm water.” Annie “had touched Grace’s heart” but had also “gotten under her skin.” Grace feels “marooned on her own private island” and then “her nerves were singing.” In just 13 pages you will be asked to endure eyes “fluttering,” then “shining,” then “fluttering” again. Mitch’s girlfriend is “brilliantly smart” — imagine for a second the special brand of languor required to connect those two terms — and also blows her nose “goose-honkingly hard.” Ohlin’s preferred simile is some variation of the lazy “like a child,” and she has a baffling fondness for the most worthless word in English: “weird.”
Giraldi obviously needs to get over himself, but for all its negativity his review did do one positive thing. It ensured that his novel, Busy Monsters, will never find its way onto my to-read pile. Hooray for one less book to worry about reading!
READ MORE:
http://www.typographicalera.com/insid...
January 8, 2013
3.5 stars. Understated yet enjoyable book with very real characters, but no strong plot.
I liked the way this book was written. I don’t remember the author going into much detail describing the characters, but I found it very easy to imagine these characters as real people to the point where halfway through the book, I re-realized that this book was fiction. Ohlin creates these characters by describing what happens to them and it’s these collective experiences that eventually comprise a complete person.
There wasn’t really a strong plot in my opinion. Unlike murder mysteries or other fiction novels, I couldn’t identify a solid end that all these events were leading up to, which makes sense because the book was only about a portion of the characters’ lives. Regardless, I was interested (but not edge-of-my-seat captivated) throughout.
I think where the book succeeds the most is in its subtlety and believability. I didn’t really like the end because it didn’t conclude this capsule of time nor leave the reader with anything to think about or wonder. This is probably where the plot’s weakness shows the most, being unable to sustain intrigue beyond the end of the novel.
I liked the way this book was written. I don’t remember the author going into much detail describing the characters, but I found it very easy to imagine these characters as real people to the point where halfway through the book, I re-realized that this book was fiction. Ohlin creates these characters by describing what happens to them and it’s these collective experiences that eventually comprise a complete person.
There wasn’t really a strong plot in my opinion. Unlike murder mysteries or other fiction novels, I couldn’t identify a solid end that all these events were leading up to, which makes sense because the book was only about a portion of the characters’ lives. Regardless, I was interested (but not edge-of-my-seat captivated) throughout.
I think where the book succeeds the most is in its subtlety and believability. I didn’t really like the end because it didn’t conclude this capsule of time nor leave the reader with anything to think about or wonder. This is probably where the plot’s weakness shows the most, being unable to sustain intrigue beyond the end of the novel.
February 20, 2013
I really enjoyed Inside because of the way this novel peels away at the layers of human feeling, motives, personal histories, backgrounds and tendencies which make up the complexity of being.
Also, I liked the structure of the novel, bouncing between locations, points in time, and characters which were gradually more and more interwoven in their interactions, and the reader's understanding of their actions and complexities, their differences, and their heartaches.
This book isn't for anyone looking a happy, sweet narrative or compelling answers to life's problems. Rather, there are many small rushes of emotion through life's strange and sometimes horrific heartaches. Sometimes even the smallest things have meaning when put in a particular context. For example, Grace's Christmas gift to her mother-in-law of orange lipstick made my eyes glisten. But you need to read the book to find out why.
I loved Inside, as well, because it does not judge: lives have unexpected twists and turns; people often do not act like we want them to act. We long to make sense of people, and it's sometimes emotionally difficult when we can't make sense of their actions.
Highly recommended.
Also, I liked the structure of the novel, bouncing between locations, points in time, and characters which were gradually more and more interwoven in their interactions, and the reader's understanding of their actions and complexities, their differences, and their heartaches.
This book isn't for anyone looking a happy, sweet narrative or compelling answers to life's problems. Rather, there are many small rushes of emotion through life's strange and sometimes horrific heartaches. Sometimes even the smallest things have meaning when put in a particular context. For example, Grace's Christmas gift to her mother-in-law of orange lipstick made my eyes glisten. But you need to read the book to find out why.
I loved Inside, as well, because it does not judge: lives have unexpected twists and turns; people often do not act like we want them to act. We long to make sense of people, and it's sometimes emotionally difficult when we can't make sense of their actions.
Highly recommended.
September 2, 2012
"Let me out!" (response to the book "Inside").
The novel is arranged into chapters focusing on several different characters in different years; it hops back and forth between years and character viewpoints. I like that style, for it promises various insights that sometimes are dependently available only with the distance of time and other events.
Two of the characters are therapists, and the others are intricately enveloped by a therapy fog that feels like a displaced novel of the 70s. When the reader has to suspend disbelief as a coping mechanism for the implausibility of some events, then one expects to be rewarded for the effort. But instead, more stupidities ensue.
Like the characters in the novel who had trouble committing, I had difficulties committing to the characters.
Two stars, elevated to three for occasional gem flashes of prose stylings.
The novel is arranged into chapters focusing on several different characters in different years; it hops back and forth between years and character viewpoints. I like that style, for it promises various insights that sometimes are dependently available only with the distance of time and other events.
Two of the characters are therapists, and the others are intricately enveloped by a therapy fog that feels like a displaced novel of the 70s. When the reader has to suspend disbelief as a coping mechanism for the implausibility of some events, then one expects to be rewarded for the effort. But instead, more stupidities ensue.
Like the characters in the novel who had trouble committing, I had difficulties committing to the characters.
Two stars, elevated to three for occasional gem flashes of prose stylings.
February 1, 2013
I found this to be well written overall. I read and read, and kept asking myself...where's this going? This will all make sense soon. These characters and there stories will link up right? Um....not so much. When it ended, I looked up to my husband who was sitting beside me and said "That's it? That's the end?" I just didn't get it. The ending, the middle...none of it. There were some good chapters that I felt could have each been a short story. There were some funny lines (when one of the characters was disappointed that the psychologist couldn't prescribe drugs...my favourite moment in the book in fact). Most of the characters felt depressed and narcissistic. I did not like nor did I relate to any of these characters. It felt as though I was reading a book about a bunch of people with Asperger's Syndrome bumping into each other on the road of life. I just didn't get it.
September 19, 2012
I wanted to like this book. I picked it up because I had read an excerpt from the first chapter and it was intriguing. I tried to ignore the signs--the signs that the writing was just not all that good, and the characters were not satisfying, and the interwoven stories structure was not going well. But by the third or fourth chapter, I couldn't deny my misgivings any more. I think it was the line, "With her thick-framed glasses and disapproving look, she resembled a librarian more than the lawyer she was." UGH. How stereotypical can you be? Come on.
I decided life is too short, and moved on.
I decided life is too short, and moved on.
November 21, 2013
Grace, therapist, finds a man on a mountain; also, her ex-husband flees his new girlfriend and her son. Books like this are not made for me, and I am not made for books like this. I understand that it was written commendably and it was all about real lives coming together and apart and whatnot. But I'm frustrated because nothing really happened, or if it did, it was written in this quiet contained way where the happening was almost indistinguishable from the not happening, and the why was completely lost. Blegh.
November 13, 2012
Alex Ohlin certainly doesn't deserve the nasty review she got in the NYT Book Review. This book was decently written -- arguably purposefully flat -- and the interconnected stories held my interest. And I also appreciated reading a bok set in Montreal. Having said that, it wasn't as compelling or original as other Giller nominated books this year like Ru or The Imposter Bride. (Haven't yet read 469 -- although it's in the cue)
March 24, 2013
Intricately woven stories that touch each other and see the character's struggles/thoughts (inside) and see where they journey along in life and how they manage their triumphs and challenges. Enjoyed the character's development in each of the storylines.
January 24, 2023
This was a really delightful book. Firstly, I enjoy reading anything written by Canadian author, whenever possible. Secondly, I found the writing to be wonderful, the language was easy to absorb and become a part of. I love the way it was so obvious we were reading about a different characters chapter, and I loved how they all intertwined in someway. It was a beautifully written book, and I’m very glad I read it.
November 9, 2025
Loved that it was partially set in Montreal. I was a bit confused about timelines and characters at first, just because I put the book down and forgot some details in between reading sessions. But interesting characters whose lives are interwoven. A bit disappointed in the ending, which was uneventful. Kind of like everyday life I guess.
September 24, 2018
4.5 for me. This book has been sitting by my bedside table for months. I’m not sure what I was waiting for...perhaps cold weather to match the cover or a gap in my tbr pile. Inside is beautifully written, has a cast of captivating characters and several unique settings: Iqaluit, Kigali, Montreal, Edinburgh, New York. The author does a great job weaving time and place.
October 21, 2018
One evening, bone-tired after one of those longs days we can have, I said ‘I will read a page’: then ignoring my fatigue read twenty; or again, vowing to read 20 minutes which is my usual per-day minimum I ploughed through to the end of the book. It is a credit to a writer when one can engage (or entrap) his or her readers so consistently, and I credit Alix Ohlin for the diligence and care she exacted of herself to make Inside such an interesting and readable book. The story itself is simple, alternating among years as we follow the interior lives and loves of young (then increasingly not so young) women (e.g. Grace) and men (e.g. Mitch) though the terrain of their mostly unbuilt lives.
They emerge as individuals blessed with intelligence and are honest, hard working, well-meaning people. Most have the advanced degrees we expect our young to earn today and they are in good jobs. The catch is that none of these apparently debt-free characters are exceptional or even particularly good at their jobs or their lives. There is a lot of failure and in this regard the book can be heavy reading at times. One of the supporting characters, Tug, is an AID worker whose mind appears to have been destroyed by his stint in Rwanda when a million Tutsis were massacred there. One thread running through much of the book suggests this is a generation that easily loses faith in themselves and have little hope in life in general. There emerged for me a sense of hopelessness in Alix Ohlin's focus on failure. I wondered if she was reflecting what Generation X and Millennials feel about life and the world. Although I agree it can be readily perceived as a distressing and depressing place but it seems a complacent attitude to adopt as Tug had suggested ‘we are the comfortable nation’ and maybe the generations just expect more. And in their hearts though many would agree that ‘civilization is a highway of bones’.
On May 14th the Globe and Mail published an obituary celebrating the life of a Canadian AID worker, Rich Denham who had trained as a civil engineer and who served on more than 70 overseas missions including Rwanda during the genocide, suffered of course, survived and had four children, five grandchildren and worked meanwhile as an environmental commissioner for the City of Ottawa, all the while continuing his overseas work whenever he had the chance. He was also the first Canadian to volunteer for the Doctors without Borders. So it is possible, with a little grit, to have it all – it is not so much that it requires effort (and blood, sweat and tears, which it sometimes does) but that it requires hope. That is the hardest thing, especially when things are going wrong: to believe in possibility . One quote I heard while reading Inside was from Molly’s Game, attributed to Winston Churchill, on success: it is the ability to move from one failure to another without any loss of enthusiasm.
Somewhat ironically, given her tough home life and seeming lack of education the most resilient of Inside’s characters seems to be Annie. She asks for nothing from life but believes in its beneficence and subconsciously that the universe will provide if she just risks putting herself out there. It is in Annie - in Ohlin’s creation of this minor but wonderful character, Anne (‘Annie’) Hardwick - that the author almost loses the thread of her story. Annie enters Grace’s life, early on and briefly, as a 16-year-old from a well-to-do family, comprising a domineering father and meek mother, whom she hates and who is cutting herself, and Grace is asked to provide psychological counselling. Although the story is about Grace, and Tug, and Mitch and a few other relatively minor characters it is Annie who I found fascinating. Early on Ohlin says of Annie that nothing was real to her but herself. It was not that she was selfish but that she was contented and self-contained. There is a brief episode where Mitch, with Grace who is preoccupied, sees this ‘extremely pretty young woman walk by’ and who turns to walk towards them, and in spite of himself and without saying a word he transforms almost involuntarily into a peacock in response to this woman’s presence and innate beauty. (I would read a whole book just about Annie and wish Alix Ohlin would take a sabbatical and get to work on it). Annie is a tour de force and reminded me of Betty Davis (Vanity Fair did a good review of her in 2010 “The Lonely Lady – the Devil in Betty Davis https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/...) and one could see this same combination of loneliness (by choice) and greatness in Annie. Some smitten admirer or lover could easily write a Betty Davis’ Eyes for Annie. But by her own admission she is a rolling stone, gathering little moss. She is called cold but is not: she just needs to be alone, free and on the road, and she knows that she is deeply, maybe permanently flawed. In one of her counselling sessions with Grace 16-year-old Annie utters “I am rotten; I am diseased”.
There was a documentary recently on wealth that concluded that for the most part the wealthy are not doing much that can be considered good with their massive wealth. Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft, died recently leaving over $20 billion to no one in particular. It is here that Annie’s flaws are not fatal or soul-destroying for those that meet her or love her. She is generous with her talent, money, time, loving. It is just that she does not stay. In the Mitch / Grace incident, when the ‘extremely pretty, young woman’ comes by, Grace looks up – as readers we know it is Annie and we know that Mitch has never met her – glances at Annie, does not recognize her and goes back to what she had been doing. That is the price Annie will have to pay if she is not careful: oblivion.
But there was a sense throughout that each of their lives mattered. There were two suicides in the book and one had the sense that the loss of these mattered too. Grace and Annie shared one trauma in that they, both as teens, had had abortions, and Grace remembers ‘getting it was ridiculously and awfully easy’ and later reflects on it as follows: ‘…her carelessness in getting pregnant; her ruthlessness in getting the abortion’. Because the story in structured on focusing the interiority of a central character at a time, whether Grace, or Annie, or Mitch, we, like these main characters, do not know if the people they are dealing with are on the up and up.
There was a lot therefore in the book that was very good. I really enjoyed it and recommend it. I wish the story had been a little lighter but overall got a lot of value in reading and reflecting on it. I thought early on that what we want in a book is to see or read writing that is beautifully crafted so that reading is almost effortless, even through the few unsettling parts. I felt that to some significant degree Alix Ohlin (and her supporters and editors) achieved that goal. The story and characters are memorable. I also want more Annie.
Edwin
They emerge as individuals blessed with intelligence and are honest, hard working, well-meaning people. Most have the advanced degrees we expect our young to earn today and they are in good jobs. The catch is that none of these apparently debt-free characters are exceptional or even particularly good at their jobs or their lives. There is a lot of failure and in this regard the book can be heavy reading at times. One of the supporting characters, Tug, is an AID worker whose mind appears to have been destroyed by his stint in Rwanda when a million Tutsis were massacred there. One thread running through much of the book suggests this is a generation that easily loses faith in themselves and have little hope in life in general. There emerged for me a sense of hopelessness in Alix Ohlin's focus on failure. I wondered if she was reflecting what Generation X and Millennials feel about life and the world. Although I agree it can be readily perceived as a distressing and depressing place but it seems a complacent attitude to adopt as Tug had suggested ‘we are the comfortable nation’ and maybe the generations just expect more. And in their hearts though many would agree that ‘civilization is a highway of bones’.
On May 14th the Globe and Mail published an obituary celebrating the life of a Canadian AID worker, Rich Denham who had trained as a civil engineer and who served on more than 70 overseas missions including Rwanda during the genocide, suffered of course, survived and had four children, five grandchildren and worked meanwhile as an environmental commissioner for the City of Ottawa, all the while continuing his overseas work whenever he had the chance. He was also the first Canadian to volunteer for the Doctors without Borders. So it is possible, with a little grit, to have it all – it is not so much that it requires effort (and blood, sweat and tears, which it sometimes does) but that it requires hope. That is the hardest thing, especially when things are going wrong: to believe in possibility . One quote I heard while reading Inside was from Molly’s Game, attributed to Winston Churchill, on success: it is the ability to move from one failure to another without any loss of enthusiasm.
Somewhat ironically, given her tough home life and seeming lack of education the most resilient of Inside’s characters seems to be Annie. She asks for nothing from life but believes in its beneficence and subconsciously that the universe will provide if she just risks putting herself out there. It is in Annie - in Ohlin’s creation of this minor but wonderful character, Anne (‘Annie’) Hardwick - that the author almost loses the thread of her story. Annie enters Grace’s life, early on and briefly, as a 16-year-old from a well-to-do family, comprising a domineering father and meek mother, whom she hates and who is cutting herself, and Grace is asked to provide psychological counselling. Although the story is about Grace, and Tug, and Mitch and a few other relatively minor characters it is Annie who I found fascinating. Early on Ohlin says of Annie that nothing was real to her but herself. It was not that she was selfish but that she was contented and self-contained. There is a brief episode where Mitch, with Grace who is preoccupied, sees this ‘extremely pretty young woman walk by’ and who turns to walk towards them, and in spite of himself and without saying a word he transforms almost involuntarily into a peacock in response to this woman’s presence and innate beauty. (I would read a whole book just about Annie and wish Alix Ohlin would take a sabbatical and get to work on it). Annie is a tour de force and reminded me of Betty Davis (Vanity Fair did a good review of her in 2010 “The Lonely Lady – the Devil in Betty Davis https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/...) and one could see this same combination of loneliness (by choice) and greatness in Annie. Some smitten admirer or lover could easily write a Betty Davis’ Eyes for Annie. But by her own admission she is a rolling stone, gathering little moss. She is called cold but is not: she just needs to be alone, free and on the road, and she knows that she is deeply, maybe permanently flawed. In one of her counselling sessions with Grace 16-year-old Annie utters “I am rotten; I am diseased”.
There was a documentary recently on wealth that concluded that for the most part the wealthy are not doing much that can be considered good with their massive wealth. Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft, died recently leaving over $20 billion to no one in particular. It is here that Annie’s flaws are not fatal or soul-destroying for those that meet her or love her. She is generous with her talent, money, time, loving. It is just that she does not stay. In the Mitch / Grace incident, when the ‘extremely pretty, young woman’ comes by, Grace looks up – as readers we know it is Annie and we know that Mitch has never met her – glances at Annie, does not recognize her and goes back to what she had been doing. That is the price Annie will have to pay if she is not careful: oblivion.
But there was a sense throughout that each of their lives mattered. There were two suicides in the book and one had the sense that the loss of these mattered too. Grace and Annie shared one trauma in that they, both as teens, had had abortions, and Grace remembers ‘getting it was ridiculously and awfully easy’ and later reflects on it as follows: ‘…her carelessness in getting pregnant; her ruthlessness in getting the abortion’. Because the story in structured on focusing the interiority of a central character at a time, whether Grace, or Annie, or Mitch, we, like these main characters, do not know if the people they are dealing with are on the up and up.
There was a lot therefore in the book that was very good. I really enjoyed it and recommend it. I wish the story had been a little lighter but overall got a lot of value in reading and reflecting on it. I thought early on that what we want in a book is to see or read writing that is beautifully crafted so that reading is almost effortless, even through the few unsettling parts. I felt that to some significant degree Alix Ohlin (and her supporters and editors) achieved that goal. The story and characters are memorable. I also want more Annie.
Edwin
October 30, 2012
Alix Ohlin's Inside has a lot of characteristics that I typically do not like in a book: her characters are both contrived and clichés, two of them being therapists out to help everyone they meet with their problems, another two being troubled teenagers, and another being a man damaged by the horrors he faced doing international aid work. Yikes, right? This book is so full of self-flagellation I wasn't sure I had the stomach for it.
In the end though I finished it having been a tiny smidge won over by Alix Ohlin. Sure the book ends with a million loose ends that make you feel it was really two books in one, but she is doing something interesting despite all these negative points. There is some deep truth in her depiction of how people can slip in and out of each other's lives today. People, particularly young people, tend to make quick friendships and relationships, but their lives are built on shifting sands. I remember when I was moving from my home city Edmonton to Ontario a friend told me, 'you can entirely remake yourself if you want' because I would know no one there. Ohlin looks at what this kind of possibility entails, and she, like me, sees more potential for losing yourself and escapism than renewal.
As an aside I had heard about the absolute drubbing Ohlin received by William Giraldi in the NYT book review. After having read the book I looked up this somewhat notorious review and was pretty disgusted by his complete lack of professionalism. The review is snide and snarky, and has zero balance. Giraldi comes off sounding enraged. One of the strangest reviews I have ever read.
In the end though I finished it having been a tiny smidge won over by Alix Ohlin. Sure the book ends with a million loose ends that make you feel it was really two books in one, but she is doing something interesting despite all these negative points. There is some deep truth in her depiction of how people can slip in and out of each other's lives today. People, particularly young people, tend to make quick friendships and relationships, but their lives are built on shifting sands. I remember when I was moving from my home city Edmonton to Ontario a friend told me, 'you can entirely remake yourself if you want' because I would know no one there. Ohlin looks at what this kind of possibility entails, and she, like me, sees more potential for losing yourself and escapism than renewal.
As an aside I had heard about the absolute drubbing Ohlin received by William Giraldi in the NYT book review. After having read the book I looked up this somewhat notorious review and was pretty disgusted by his complete lack of professionalism. The review is snide and snarky, and has zero balance. Giraldi comes off sounding enraged. One of the strangest reviews I have ever read.
September 27, 2012
I believe the beautiful, and brilliant book jacket photo shows you the whole story. A delicate, monochromatic grey reflection. A snowball, entrapping safely its bits of "cold snow". The characters are mostly reaching out to others to be of real help; or are they trying to test their own limitations. In some cases the efforts are almost certainly doomed; in others the character may not be strong enough to persist with seeing thing through to the end. They are all striving to be INSIDE their own lives, yet they cannot quite manage to round out their lives and live them fully. They are all dangling in such uncomplete states. Nothing feels solid about these characters. But, for the most part, there remains enough self-knowledge and good-heartedness that we are left with feeling hopeful that they will successfully muddle through, as most people do.
The writing was adequate, the characterizations didn't go deep enough (each needed more self-reflection); but it was delightful to read a story set in all the nooks and crannies of the neighbourhood in which I spent most of my "formative years".
Revision,next day: what I thought of as extraneous to the story (& I still do) is actually a good sketch of the realities of L.A. & and "the business" (entertainment biz , of course). So my 2 star rating has bumped up one.
The writing was adequate, the characterizations didn't go deep enough (each needed more self-reflection); but it was delightful to read a story set in all the nooks and crannies of the neighbourhood in which I spent most of my "formative years".
Revision,next day: what I thought of as extraneous to the story (& I still do) is actually a good sketch of the realities of L.A. & and "the business" (entertainment biz , of course). So my 2 star rating has bumped up one.
March 22, 2013
I have a very ambivalent feeling about this book. I like the way it is written and still this isn't my type of book. The style is good, but in the beginning it's difficult to get involved and feel comfortable with the characters in the story.
The Dutch title is Help where the English title is Inside which in my opinion covers the plot better.
All the characters in the book are involved with the lives of other people which they want to help. The result of all this altruism is that the characters mess up their own lives. That very depressing to read, because they want to do good and in the end their lives seem to have useless. Some of them even decide to step out and commit suicide.
The two main characters know somehow, deep inside that they care for each other, but hesitate to restore their former relationsip which ended in a divorce.
The chapters jump back and forth between the past and the future (up to 2006) which make reading the book difficult at first hand.
I admire the plot line, but I wonder if I will read another book of this author.
The Dutch title is Help where the English title is Inside which in my opinion covers the plot better.
All the characters in the book are involved with the lives of other people which they want to help. The result of all this altruism is that the characters mess up their own lives. That very depressing to read, because they want to do good and in the end their lives seem to have useless. Some of them even decide to step out and commit suicide.
The two main characters know somehow, deep inside that they care for each other, but hesitate to restore their former relationsip which ended in a divorce.
The chapters jump back and forth between the past and the future (up to 2006) which make reading the book difficult at first hand.
I admire the plot line, but I wonder if I will read another book of this author.
August 27, 2013
Tried to "listen" to this book via my local library's audiobook download program. Technical problems galore. But the synopsis of the book intrigued me so I bought it.
In the first chapter, a woman is skiing and comes across a man in the snow, a man who has clearly tried to commit suicide (hanging) and has failed. He is taken to the hospital and the woman follows him there. Unbelievably, the woman is granted access to his room (remember now, he is a complete stranger to this woman and vice versa), the doctors speak to her about his condition (it is explained that because she is a psychiatrist, she can navigate medical speak believably). When the man awakens, he tells the doctor that he tried to commit suicide to see how long it would take his wife (and he points to the woman) to notice. The woman - the woman who is not his wife! - knowingly plays along with this man's game and pretends to be the wife. The author puts in an obligatory sentence about how a sane person would never go along with something like that, as if that's enough to make me shrug off the woman's decision to play along. Why would anyone do that? I think the action is explained, explored as the book unfolds, but I just couldn't suspend my disbelief that long.
Returned it.
In the first chapter, a woman is skiing and comes across a man in the snow, a man who has clearly tried to commit suicide (hanging) and has failed. He is taken to the hospital and the woman follows him there. Unbelievably, the woman is granted access to his room (remember now, he is a complete stranger to this woman and vice versa), the doctors speak to her about his condition (it is explained that because she is a psychiatrist, she can navigate medical speak believably). When the man awakens, he tells the doctor that he tried to commit suicide to see how long it would take his wife (and he points to the woman) to notice. The woman - the woman who is not his wife! - knowingly plays along with this man's game and pretends to be the wife. The author puts in an obligatory sentence about how a sane person would never go along with something like that, as if that's enough to make me shrug off the woman's decision to play along. Why would anyone do that? I think the action is explained, explored as the book unfolds, but I just couldn't suspend my disbelief that long.
Returned it.
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