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Evening
During a summer weekend on the coast of Maine, at the wedding of her best friend, Ann Grant fell in love. She was twenty-five. Forty years later--after three marriages and five children--Ann Lord finds herself in the dim claustrophobia of illness, careening between lucidity and delirium and only vaguely conscious of the friends and family parading by her bedside, when the memory of that weekend returns to her with the clarity and intensity of a fever-dream.
Evening unfolds in the rushlight of that memory, as Ann relives those three vivid days on the New England coast, with motorboats buzzing and bands playing in the night, and the devastating tragedy that followed a spectacular wedding. Here, in the surge of hope and possibility that coursed through her at twenty-five--in a singular time of complete surrender--Ann discovers the highest point of her life.
Evening unfolds in the rushlight of that memory, as Ann relives those three vivid days on the New England coast, with motorboats buzzing and bands playing in the night, and the devastating tragedy that followed a spectacular wedding. Here, in the surge of hope and possibility that coursed through her at twenty-five--in a singular time of complete surrender--Ann discovers the highest point of her life.
286 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
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About the author
Susan Minot
28 books325 followersSusan Minot is an award-winning novelist and short story writer whose books include Monkeys, Folly, Lust & Other Stories, and Evening, which was adapted into the feature film of the same name starring Meryl Streep. Minot was born in Boston and raised in Manchester-by-the-Sea, Massachusetts, attended Brown University, and received her MFA in creative writing from Columbia University. She currently lives with her daughter in both New York City and an island off the coast of Maine.
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August 8, 2007For a long time, this feels like a romance novel: swooning and fawning women, silent and hunky men. Vomit, vomit, vomit. And then, just when the novel is about to end and you're so fed up with the number of times Ann Grant says that Harris Arden "affected her curiously", then, all of a sudden, right near the end, in the face of an awful tragedy, the characters become real, and then you wonder if it was worth suffering through everything else to see a tiny glimpse of the human condition.
The central story of Evening is that of a dying woman rediscovering her own life through memories that flood back to her on her deathbed. At her death, Ann Lord--nee Grant, then Katz, then Stackpole, then Lord, finally--realizes that nothing really meant anything but the "true love" she discovered during a two-day affair with an engaged man that she met at a friend's wedding.
The central conceit of Evening is that this true love is anything deeper than the adolescent impulses of one Romeo and one Juliet, two teenagers with oversized crushes.
Ok, let's pause for a moment. I'm a romantic. I love serendipity and sensuality. But life--and love, too--are larger than single encounters. Romantic and ecstatic moments are romantic and ecstatic, but they are only a part of what makes our lives rich.
In Evening, if the next forty years of Ann Lord's life pale next to one night of groping and one night of steamy sex in the forest with her burning love doctor, then the novel reveals either Ann Lord's limits, or it suggests a narrow range of earthly purpose. Yes, we are sexual beings, but let's acknowledge that meaning can come in many forms.
Let's pause again. I'm an idea guy--it's what being a romantic means. Ideas are ways of seeing things; they are fresh perspectives and thoughts. But, while I engage and pursue ideas, I do my damnedest to temper them with doses of real, hard worldliness.
In Evening, we're beaten with an idea for over two hundred pages--an idea of romance, characters we're supposed to believe in: struggling but beautiful women, heroic but wounded men, clever and charming friends. And this main cast coexists with the lesser cast of the novel: depthless queens, consistent and dull semi-friends that adore but bore.
But let's not call these people characters; they're caricatures. Their complexity is contrived, or nonexistent. They are ideas of people, and even if we believe in them, their belief in each other is even less substantial. Only in the end does anything real happen that snaps everyone out of their fancy and into a complexity that we, the readers, can finally believe. A complexity something like our own.
I wanted to enjoy this book, but I didn't. I met Susan Minot briefly once, and she impressed me. Alas.
This is not to say, however, that this book does not have value. It is well written--like a symphony assembled by an expert composer, but based on a melodramatic melody. The craft of construction is there; it is varied and rich and laden with layers of meaning. Read the professional reviews to find out more about this. It withstands close scrutiny. It is full of stuff.
But the story it tells is tedious and made of neon colors.
Do I recommend it? No.
Would I teach it? No. It sustains close reading, but I just wouldn't enjoy it.
Lasting impression: It makes me wonder if there is a value to escapism. This is far, far better in its craft than supermarket fiction, but it reminds me of it nonetheless. The main character is caught up in herself, and we're meant to be caught up with her. If you are, then lucky you.
The central story of Evening is that of a dying woman rediscovering her own life through memories that flood back to her on her deathbed. At her death, Ann Lord--nee Grant, then Katz, then Stackpole, then Lord, finally--realizes that nothing really meant anything but the "true love" she discovered during a two-day affair with an engaged man that she met at a friend's wedding.
The central conceit of Evening is that this true love is anything deeper than the adolescent impulses of one Romeo and one Juliet, two teenagers with oversized crushes.
Ok, let's pause for a moment. I'm a romantic. I love serendipity and sensuality. But life--and love, too--are larger than single encounters. Romantic and ecstatic moments are romantic and ecstatic, but they are only a part of what makes our lives rich.
In Evening, if the next forty years of Ann Lord's life pale next to one night of groping and one night of steamy sex in the forest with her burning love doctor, then the novel reveals either Ann Lord's limits, or it suggests a narrow range of earthly purpose. Yes, we are sexual beings, but let's acknowledge that meaning can come in many forms.
Let's pause again. I'm an idea guy--it's what being a romantic means. Ideas are ways of seeing things; they are fresh perspectives and thoughts. But, while I engage and pursue ideas, I do my damnedest to temper them with doses of real, hard worldliness.
In Evening, we're beaten with an idea for over two hundred pages--an idea of romance, characters we're supposed to believe in: struggling but beautiful women, heroic but wounded men, clever and charming friends. And this main cast coexists with the lesser cast of the novel: depthless queens, consistent and dull semi-friends that adore but bore.
But let's not call these people characters; they're caricatures. Their complexity is contrived, or nonexistent. They are ideas of people, and even if we believe in them, their belief in each other is even less substantial. Only in the end does anything real happen that snaps everyone out of their fancy and into a complexity that we, the readers, can finally believe. A complexity something like our own.
I wanted to enjoy this book, but I didn't. I met Susan Minot briefly once, and she impressed me. Alas.
This is not to say, however, that this book does not have value. It is well written--like a symphony assembled by an expert composer, but based on a melodramatic melody. The craft of construction is there; it is varied and rich and laden with layers of meaning. Read the professional reviews to find out more about this. It withstands close scrutiny. It is full of stuff.
But the story it tells is tedious and made of neon colors.
Do I recommend it? No.
Would I teach it? No. It sustains close reading, but I just wouldn't enjoy it.
Lasting impression: It makes me wonder if there is a value to escapism. This is far, far better in its craft than supermarket fiction, but it reminds me of it nonetheless. The main character is caught up in herself, and we're meant to be caught up with her. If you are, then lucky you.
July 1, 2021
The movie is better!
I watched this movie years ago. I didn't even know it was originally a novel. I enjoyed the movie version. It was just the right amount of melancholy. And to matters even better this movie stars Glenn Close and Meryl Streep!
Evening is about Ann Grant who lies dying in her bedroom with her children, friends and doctors streaming in and out. As Ann slowly dies her mind drifts back a weekend 40 years before when she met a man and fell in love with him at first sight.
I think this is a case of one medium being better suited to tell a story. I think that in this case the story had more impact as a movie. In book form I just couldn't ever get a grasp for the characters. One minute we're in present day and then in the next paragraph we're in the past and in the next paragraph we're in her dying hallucinations. I just couldn't ever get into the world.
Maybe if I had read this before I watched the movie I would have enjoyed it more but I dont have a time machine so...it was fine.
I won't give a recommendation for the book even though it was fine but I do recommend you watch the movie if you like sad dreamy films.
I watched this movie years ago. I didn't even know it was originally a novel. I enjoyed the movie version. It was just the right amount of melancholy. And to matters even better this movie stars Glenn Close and Meryl Streep!
Evening is about Ann Grant who lies dying in her bedroom with her children, friends and doctors streaming in and out. As Ann slowly dies her mind drifts back a weekend 40 years before when she met a man and fell in love with him at first sight.
I think this is a case of one medium being better suited to tell a story. I think that in this case the story had more impact as a movie. In book form I just couldn't ever get a grasp for the characters. One minute we're in present day and then in the next paragraph we're in the past and in the next paragraph we're in her dying hallucinations. I just couldn't ever get into the world.
Maybe if I had read this before I watched the movie I would have enjoyed it more but I dont have a time machine so...it was fine.
I won't give a recommendation for the book even though it was fine but I do recommend you watch the movie if you like sad dreamy films.
March 22, 2009
I've been re-reading old favorites lately.
One of the most beautiful things about language is the deep sense of emotions that can be brought about by words strung together in a logical context. Sometimes, you read a book because of the emotions it causes. Often, for me, I reread books that have moved me emotionally; that have made me feel. This is such a book. Rather than a wonderfully technical book, well-plotted and adept, this is a book that evokes emotion, namely melancholy.
It is the reflection of a woman who is dieing and a moment that changed the course of her life. I have heard some people remark on this woman's selfishness, that rather than thinking about her family, her children, she is pondering one long-lost summer weekend. I've always felt these people to be a bit harsh.
To me, life is made up of many moments. These moments change our lives, they shift our direction. In retrospect, sometimes the smallest of moments, such as an encounter one summer weekend can utterly change our life.
I think this is on what the character reflects, the life she could have had. And that is what brings about the sense of melancholy. Who knows if it would have been a better life? But, it would have been a different life, and that other life ended before it even began. It's a book about what might have beens, and, often, what might have been is the thing of which we cannot let go, the thing that wakes us up in the middle of the night.
So, this is a melancholy book because of the might have beens, but it is also a book that I think is great for that same reason.
One of the most beautiful things about language is the deep sense of emotions that can be brought about by words strung together in a logical context. Sometimes, you read a book because of the emotions it causes. Often, for me, I reread books that have moved me emotionally; that have made me feel. This is such a book. Rather than a wonderfully technical book, well-plotted and adept, this is a book that evokes emotion, namely melancholy.
It is the reflection of a woman who is dieing and a moment that changed the course of her life. I have heard some people remark on this woman's selfishness, that rather than thinking about her family, her children, she is pondering one long-lost summer weekend. I've always felt these people to be a bit harsh.
To me, life is made up of many moments. These moments change our lives, they shift our direction. In retrospect, sometimes the smallest of moments, such as an encounter one summer weekend can utterly change our life.
I think this is on what the character reflects, the life she could have had. And that is what brings about the sense of melancholy. Who knows if it would have been a better life? But, it would have been a different life, and that other life ended before it even began. It's a book about what might have beens, and, often, what might have been is the thing of which we cannot let go, the thing that wakes us up in the middle of the night.
So, this is a melancholy book because of the might have beens, but it is also a book that I think is great for that same reason.
April 21, 2008
"Evening" is the internal monologue of Ann Grant (or Katz,or Stackpole, or Lord depending on what part of her life she is reflecting upon), as she lies in bed, dying of cancer. Ann pours over her life, re-living it, telling herself the story of her most intimate and important moment(s). Her reflections are filled with deep pain, regret, and intensely burning passion.
Reading this book felt in some ways like finding out that there is no Santa Claus.
The idea of dying being a reflective process where you peacefully come to terms with your life and reach a place of profound resolution, which allows you to gracefully "let go" is such a standard and universal convention in depictions of death that on some level I really and truly believed in it.
Reading this achingly beautiful depiction of a dying woman consumed with the horrible pain of regret and unrequited love, obsessed in her last moments with paths not taken and incredible depths of raw emotion that will never be shared, makes that more hopeful view of death seem magical, comforting, and nice, but also unrealistic and naive. It's the death we want desperately to believe in, but that feels a little too neat when examined more closely. (It is, regretably, a lot easier to picture Mom and Dad wrapping the presents and setting them up under the tree, then to truly conceptualize how a jolly bearded fellow might manage the task of flying all over the world in his magical sleigh and delivering them via chimney.)
Maybe it is easier to leave life behind if your final moments are spent dwelling on your most profound losses, deepest disapointments, and overwhelming physical and emotional pain. Maybe the meaninglessness of it all is what we will be thinking about at the end:
"The ceiling was frowning. It said no one knows what life is for, no one knows what anything means, the plaster soft and uneven, the lines as thin as the cracks in one's palm, it said that silence wipes everything out."
Or maybe, (if we want to take something positive from the book) we should take in and work against this view of dying by living our lives led by our passion, by speaking our minds, and telling our stories.
The super-WASP world that Ann lives in was, for me anyway, at times a little distracting because it was easy to roll my eyes at the stereotypical elements of the scene, in part because I didn't always want to be pierced by the pain each page seemed determined to drive into my heart, and in part because it seemed like it could be the dramatic counterpoint to the wedding that Vince Vaughan and Owen Wilson attend in Wedding Crashers. (They would be SAILING wouldn't they? And she wore PEARLS, did she? More cocktails?!!!... and what the heck is a HIGHBALL anyway?)
That minor (and possibly unique to me) irritation aside, the writing is incredible. It manages to be lucid and sharp-- I felt pin-pricks of recognition and deep pain on page after page-- while truly existing as the mind of a woman meandering through her life in a morphine-induced haze. It is beautifully sad. It paints a devastating picture of potential not lived up to, thoughts not shared, and love left behind for responsibility and respectability. It left me shaken and a little paralyzed. And it also left me aching to truly live.
Reading this book felt in some ways like finding out that there is no Santa Claus.
The idea of dying being a reflective process where you peacefully come to terms with your life and reach a place of profound resolution, which allows you to gracefully "let go" is such a standard and universal convention in depictions of death that on some level I really and truly believed in it.
Reading this achingly beautiful depiction of a dying woman consumed with the horrible pain of regret and unrequited love, obsessed in her last moments with paths not taken and incredible depths of raw emotion that will never be shared, makes that more hopeful view of death seem magical, comforting, and nice, but also unrealistic and naive. It's the death we want desperately to believe in, but that feels a little too neat when examined more closely. (It is, regretably, a lot easier to picture Mom and Dad wrapping the presents and setting them up under the tree, then to truly conceptualize how a jolly bearded fellow might manage the task of flying all over the world in his magical sleigh and delivering them via chimney.)
Maybe it is easier to leave life behind if your final moments are spent dwelling on your most profound losses, deepest disapointments, and overwhelming physical and emotional pain. Maybe the meaninglessness of it all is what we will be thinking about at the end:
"The ceiling was frowning. It said no one knows what life is for, no one knows what anything means, the plaster soft and uneven, the lines as thin as the cracks in one's palm, it said that silence wipes everything out."
Or maybe, (if we want to take something positive from the book) we should take in and work against this view of dying by living our lives led by our passion, by speaking our minds, and telling our stories.
The super-WASP world that Ann lives in was, for me anyway, at times a little distracting because it was easy to roll my eyes at the stereotypical elements of the scene, in part because I didn't always want to be pierced by the pain each page seemed determined to drive into my heart, and in part because it seemed like it could be the dramatic counterpoint to the wedding that Vince Vaughan and Owen Wilson attend in Wedding Crashers. (They would be SAILING wouldn't they? And she wore PEARLS, did she? More cocktails?!!!... and what the heck is a HIGHBALL anyway?)
That minor (and possibly unique to me) irritation aside, the writing is incredible. It manages to be lucid and sharp-- I felt pin-pricks of recognition and deep pain on page after page-- while truly existing as the mind of a woman meandering through her life in a morphine-induced haze. It is beautifully sad. It paints a devastating picture of potential not lived up to, thoughts not shared, and love left behind for responsibility and respectability. It left me shaken and a little paralyzed. And it also left me aching to truly live.
June 27, 2016
If you prefer a straightforward, linear plot with clear language and tidy endings, you can skip this review and skip this book.
If, like me, you are entranced by passages of unpunctuated stream-of-consciousness, inner monologues…
If you are comfortable contemplating the “evening” of one’s life…
If you are untroubled by random jumps in time and narrator…
If you appreciate unsolved or unexplained people and storylines…
If you have a deep appreciation for beautiful language…
Then you should discover the complex, slightly unsettling, extremely thoughtful Susan Minot. Two books in, I’ve fallen hard for Minot’s books and her writing. This novel isn’t easy; it requires attention and patience, but I found it incredibly rewarding.
Read-alikes
Julian Barnes, especially The Sense of an Ending
Joan Didion, in particular The Year of Magical Thinking
If, like me, you are entranced by passages of unpunctuated stream-of-consciousness, inner monologues…
If you are comfortable contemplating the “evening” of one’s life…
If you are untroubled by random jumps in time and narrator…
If you appreciate unsolved or unexplained people and storylines…
If you have a deep appreciation for beautiful language…
Then you should discover the complex, slightly unsettling, extremely thoughtful Susan Minot. Two books in, I’ve fallen hard for Minot’s books and her writing. This novel isn’t easy; it requires attention and patience, but I found it incredibly rewarding.
“For a moment she felt an astonishing brilliance and heat and light and all of herself flared up and the vibration after sixty-five years was not weakened by time but more dense then suddenly it was as if the flame had caught the flimsiest piece of paper for it flickered up and flew into the air then quickly sank down withered into a thin cinder of ash which blew off, inconsequential. Her life had not been long enough for her to know the whole of herself, it had not been long enough or wide.”
Read-alikes
Julian Barnes, especially The Sense of an Ending
Joan Didion, in particular The Year of Magical Thinking
February 4, 2010
What I learned from this book is that women have an incredible capacity for resilience and emotion. I know that men do too, of course. But I think this book clearly addresses death and lost love from a woman's perspective. The beauty of this book lies in its style. Often written in flowing sentences, with no periods or commas to distinguish where thoughts begin or end, it truly captures the subconscious mind. The only thing I didn't care for were the brief periods where it explored another character's inner thoughts. I wish Minot had stayed inside Anne's head the entire time. It was somewhat of a let down to read what her true love's thoughts were, in regards to how he felt about her. I think that would have been better left a mystery. Although, knowing how he felt brings one to conclude that a lesson from this novel is that one person's experience with love can mean a great deal more to them than the person they experienced that love with. The book made me cry, which is rare for a book to do. Minot so accurately captures the essence of the main character, from her youth and innocence until her deathbed at middle age. I think the transitions between past and present are flawless, in fact, there really are no lines drawn between the two, which is how peoples' minds really work. We try to live in the present, but no one can escape being haunted by memories. It was interesting to wrap my mind around the idea that this woman is more haunted by a lost love from a one night affair than the death of her son. I assume that was intentional on Minot's part to expose. She does a good job of quietly showing how that changed Anne, but makes it clear that the love affair was really the zenith of her existence on earth, and the thing she feels the most pain over. The style of this book, unlike anything I've read before, makes it as one of my most powerful literary experiences. In a word, the book is simply beautiful.
November 16, 2014
This book could have been good, instead it left me hating all the characters except for Buddy Wittenborn who turned out to be more consequential to the story than he originally appeared. The author uses a LOT of stream of consciousness, which worked well in some places and was too jumbled to actually read and understand in others. In what I assume was an attempt to show the jumbled stream of thoughts in Ann's mind, she would write entire pages without using any punctuation whatsoever--no periods, no commas, nothing--which was, in my opinion, rude to her readers. Also, she was too lazy to use quotation marks or any other notation to mark dialogue making it extremely difficult to tell who was speaking and what was actually spoken in the same paragraph. Overall, the characterization of Ann was good, though it was almost impossible for me to actually like Ann. The imagery created by the author was also good, though sometimes extremely random. Minot clearly has an eye for detail and vivid imagery, she's just an unfortunately bad story teller.
May 16, 2008
Being a fan of some of Susan Minot's other work, I was kind of disappointed in this book. It started off really slowly, and I almost gave up on it entirely. I just could not get into it, I found parts of it seemed poorly written. I am not a fan of the pages of run on, mixed up thoughts that went on too long. The story of what happened years ago in Ann's life, while attending the wedding of her friend, is the only thing that kept the book going. The rest of it seemed thrown in at weird times, and too scattered. I know that it was all relevant, but unfortunately it wasn't woven into the story very well.
The book only picked up and got interesting about a third of the way through, and I think a lot of people would not have even gotten that far. I only did because I wanted to like the book so much. I really enjoyed everything else I have read by Minot, and that coupled with the description on the back made me keep picking the book up hoping that it would redeem itself, even if I could only get through a few pages at a time until part way through. I am glad I didn't just toss it aside, and at least finished reading it, because the second half of the book was much more captivating, but it is still my least favourite of her work so far.
I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who isn't already a fan Minot. If this had been the first of her work I had read, I would likely have never picked up anything else by her, which would be a shame. I would definitely recommend picking up Monkeys, Folly, or Lust & Other Stories before reading this.
Interestingly enough, I noticed there was a movie made based on the book, and after watching the trailer, and I think I would actually find the movie more interesting. Fortunately, and unfortunately they drastically changed the story for the movie, which I have always found annoying when they base a movie on a book and then change the story so much that it hardly resembles the book at all, in this case I think they probably improved upon the story.
The book only picked up and got interesting about a third of the way through, and I think a lot of people would not have even gotten that far. I only did because I wanted to like the book so much. I really enjoyed everything else I have read by Minot, and that coupled with the description on the back made me keep picking the book up hoping that it would redeem itself, even if I could only get through a few pages at a time until part way through. I am glad I didn't just toss it aside, and at least finished reading it, because the second half of the book was much more captivating, but it is still my least favourite of her work so far.
I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who isn't already a fan Minot. If this had been the first of her work I had read, I would likely have never picked up anything else by her, which would be a shame. I would definitely recommend picking up Monkeys, Folly, or Lust & Other Stories before reading this.
Interestingly enough, I noticed there was a movie made based on the book, and after watching the trailer, and I think I would actually find the movie more interesting. Fortunately, and unfortunately they drastically changed the story for the movie, which I have always found annoying when they base a movie on a book and then change the story so much that it hardly resembles the book at all, in this case I think they probably improved upon the story.
March 26, 2009
I just re-read this book for the first time in years, and while it affects me in a much different way than it did when I was a teenager, damn, does it affect me. I see now that the writing, while beautiful, can be a little melodramatic, and that the central romance of the story is not really at all romantic--Harris is kind of a dick, and Ann is, in fact, a little cold, not to mention the fact that their brief affair is completely selfish. However, I also think that their flaws are the point. Ann Grant/Katz/Stackpole/Lord is, ultimately, an ordinary person, and what is truly haunting about this book is its treatment of what it means to realize life's ordinariness at the end. Ultimately, Ann's life has been a series of joys and sadnesses. Some of the sadnesses are terrible, most notably the loss of her son, but none of them are particularly unique. And I think that within this familiarity lies the book's true heartbreak--it is a narrative about the singular power of memory. Minot examines with compassion the significance we lend, perhaps arbitrarily, to what is finally nothing but a brief collection of incidents that survives only in the stories we choose to tell before we go.
August 3, 2007
Stunning. I sat down and consumed this book in one evening. I know the movie has been dragged over the coals (and I have yet to see it), but I found the book beautiful and moving. The story for those who have escaped seeing the trailer is about a woman (Ann) at the end of her life, who looks back and remembers the events over the course of her friend's wedding weekend which lead her to meet her life's true love, Harris Arden. However, life is complicated and she and Harris are not to be, and so Ann moves forward with life but is forever changed by the events of the weekend. The book follows Ann floating in and out of the past and present, which Minot pulls off gracefully but which could easily be botched on film. It's been a while since a book had such a profound effect on me, I just adored Minot's exploration of how a chance encounter can color and shape the rest of one's life. Like, one of my favorite books, Mrs. Dalloway this is a novel that I can imagine picking up and reading favorite passages again and again. It really is that heart wrenchingly beautiful.
July 24, 2007
This is the best book I've read in awhile. I just finished last night, so I haven't had time to process all of it or to be able to say whether it'll be one of my favorites. It's pretty heavy - not a lot of pages, but a lot to think about. I can say now that it's been a really long time since I've read a novel that impacted me so deeply.
With her son and daughters gathered around, Ann Lord lies on her deathbed. The story itself takes place over the last few days of her life, but it spans her entire lifetime as she recalls the events and memories of that lifetime. Most of the memories focus upon a weekend she spent in New England. She remembers this as the most influential point of her life - she fell in love with a man she could not have. One of this novel's weaknesses is that it sometimes borders on idealistic/tragic, as though her life is anti-climactic after 25. At the same time though, this novel does make a good effort to avoid idealism by portraying life's disappointments along with its triumphs - perhaps a bit of idealism is just inevitable given the subject matter. But the really beautiful part is that no one else knows about this weekend or her love. To the outsider, this part of her life would be considered insignificant in comparison with other events of her life: her marriages, her travels, her children.
Another strength of this book is the stream of consciousness style that Minot uses to portray Ann's thought process. Her children and visitors do not understand what she says, but since the audience sees her thought process, more of her spoken words make sense. At points, her thought process is clear, while at others, it's a morphene-induced haze.
My review can't do this book justice - you really just have to read it. And maybe I just read it at the right time.
With her son and daughters gathered around, Ann Lord lies on her deathbed. The story itself takes place over the last few days of her life, but it spans her entire lifetime as she recalls the events and memories of that lifetime. Most of the memories focus upon a weekend she spent in New England. She remembers this as the most influential point of her life - she fell in love with a man she could not have. One of this novel's weaknesses is that it sometimes borders on idealistic/tragic, as though her life is anti-climactic after 25. At the same time though, this novel does make a good effort to avoid idealism by portraying life's disappointments along with its triumphs - perhaps a bit of idealism is just inevitable given the subject matter. But the really beautiful part is that no one else knows about this weekend or her love. To the outsider, this part of her life would be considered insignificant in comparison with other events of her life: her marriages, her travels, her children.
Another strength of this book is the stream of consciousness style that Minot uses to portray Ann's thought process. Her children and visitors do not understand what she says, but since the audience sees her thought process, more of her spoken words make sense. At points, her thought process is clear, while at others, it's a morphene-induced haze.
My review can't do this book justice - you really just have to read it. And maybe I just read it at the right time.
December 15, 2009
I hated this book. It was too hard to follow. While I support writers breaking the rules of punctuation if it helps to draw the reader into the writer's mind, all Susan Minot did for me when she broke the rules was trip me up in my reading. Stumble. Stumble. Stumble. The book didn't flow for this reason. I don't know how I made it from beginning to end without giving up, but for some reason I did and finished the book. Of all the books I've ever read, this stands out as the most painful to finish.
March 15, 2010
Hmmm..... I had so many problems with this book, I don't even know where to start.
First of all: the manner in which it was written. Her thoughts kept jumping from past, to present, and back again. It's not that I had a problem with that, it's the fact that she eschewed the basic rules of grammar that was beat into us back in elementary school...so there was no clear indicator of change in time period. Call me crazy, but I like quotation marks, and commas, and periods - you know, basic punctuation.
SEMI-SPOILER ALERT (but it's not really spoiling anything at the end of the day, trust me):
Secondly: I didn't buy it. None of it. I didn't buy that after Harris ignored her for the better part of the first day they met - that by the time night fell, they were so strongly connected. The characters were just in and out of the storyline, that I just couldn't keep track of who was who anymore...nor did I care to...I didn't connect with any of the characters in the novel, I simply could care less about any of them.
Thirdly: WHY was she in love with this guy again? He was a total douche as far as I was concerned.
Fourthly: I gave the book 2 stars instead of one, because although I was confused, and aggravated with the writing style, I was still interested enough to tough it out to see where the book was going to go...alas, it went absolutely nowhere. So, yes, it kept my interest long enough to want to find out what was to happen...but when I found out - it was rather anticlimactic.
Don't read it, it's terrible.
UPDATE: After thinking about it some more - I went back and gave it just one star. It really was awful.
First of all: the manner in which it was written. Her thoughts kept jumping from past, to present, and back again. It's not that I had a problem with that, it's the fact that she eschewed the basic rules of grammar that was beat into us back in elementary school...so there was no clear indicator of change in time period. Call me crazy, but I like quotation marks, and commas, and periods - you know, basic punctuation.
SEMI-SPOILER ALERT (but it's not really spoiling anything at the end of the day, trust me):
Secondly: I didn't buy it. None of it. I didn't buy that after Harris ignored her for the better part of the first day they met - that by the time night fell, they were so strongly connected. The characters were just in and out of the storyline, that I just couldn't keep track of who was who anymore...nor did I care to...I didn't connect with any of the characters in the novel, I simply could care less about any of them.
Thirdly: WHY was she in love with this guy again? He was a total douche as far as I was concerned.
Fourthly: I gave the book 2 stars instead of one, because although I was confused, and aggravated with the writing style, I was still interested enough to tough it out to see where the book was going to go...alas, it went absolutely nowhere. So, yes, it kept my interest long enough to want to find out what was to happen...but when I found out - it was rather anticlimactic.
Don't read it, it's terrible.
UPDATE: After thinking about it some more - I went back and gave it just one star. It really was awful.
December 10, 2012
Since I don't really sleep anymore, I spend my nights watching film after film and reading (unassigned *gasp*) books.
Last night I reread Susan Minot's Evening and was struck, once again, by a book that for several years was a favorite. I hadn't picked it up in almost five years and the effect was a replica of the first time. It is an aching work of how longing, loss, and the heart intersect to destroy and rebuild a woman on her deathbed as she recalls her first, true, love. My copy of the book is riddled with notes of my own love that connected me viscerally to the text. Perhaps that's why I love it so much. Regardless, it's brilliant, extraordinarily moving, and within its pages is one of my favorite love scenes of any book, ever.
"She watched the wall of fog and felt his heart against her shoulder. The fog got inside ... Here, he said and pressed against her. I want to crush you."
Last night I reread Susan Minot's Evening and was struck, once again, by a book that for several years was a favorite. I hadn't picked it up in almost five years and the effect was a replica of the first time. It is an aching work of how longing, loss, and the heart intersect to destroy and rebuild a woman on her deathbed as she recalls her first, true, love. My copy of the book is riddled with notes of my own love that connected me viscerally to the text. Perhaps that's why I love it so much. Regardless, it's brilliant, extraordinarily moving, and within its pages is one of my favorite love scenes of any book, ever.
"She watched the wall of fog and felt his heart against her shoulder. The fog got inside ... Here, he said and pressed against her. I want to crush you."
July 27, 2007
THIS IS HORRIBLE!!! in going through my shelves to add books i've read, i found this book; apparently i got it a thrift store a while ago and never read it! even bigger waste of $12!!!! ok, ok, just don't think about it, kelly.
i didn't even finish this book. now, i've not finished a lot of books, and i probably would have tried to slog through the end of this one, but i was traveling in italy and didn't feeling like schlepping one extra ounce for so little reward. so i left it in a hotel room. it was half interesting, and half painful, the painful half being the stream-of-consciousness meanderings of a dying woman looking back on her life that were extremely repetetive and didn't move the story along at all. the actual story she was looking back on was better, but the installments so few and far between that i lost interest. yawn.
i didn't even finish this book. now, i've not finished a lot of books, and i probably would have tried to slog through the end of this one, but i was traveling in italy and didn't feeling like schlepping one extra ounce for so little reward. so i left it in a hotel room. it was half interesting, and half painful, the painful half being the stream-of-consciousness meanderings of a dying woman looking back on her life that were extremely repetetive and didn't move the story along at all. the actual story she was looking back on was better, but the installments so few and far between that i lost interest. yawn.
April 23, 2018
The 1998 literary novel, "Evening," by Susan Minot, does what literary fiction often does best: examines the life of an ordinary, unreflective person -- especially an ordinary person who has achieved outward forms of success, such as marriage, children, home ownership, vacations to Europe, etc. -- and the story scrutinizes their interior space for the jewels of wisdom their philosophical impoverishment might have to offer a more careful observer of life.
Another mark of literary fiction at its finest: when there is no hero's reward for being unreflective, emotionally cold, and psychologically average. In a novel like "Evening," there is no heroic philosophical fulfillment to be had for shunning a life of the mind or a life of great passion in favor of chasing material status, which is far more mundane and requires a very different kind of ambition. Authors like Susan Minot understand that economic material rewards and philosophical perspicacity are not often found existing together, and the story doesn't falsely substitute profundity with the size of one's bank account, marital status, or number of grandchildren.
And I am so here for that. *So* here for that. Books like this one make me feel glad to be alive. A great literary novel like "Evening" sometimes feels like the only thing that keeps my heart beating, stories that explode with the dark, ugly truths that have no place in polite company, civil society, or all the moments when I am expected to smile and pretend life is wonderful.
This is not a book to read for people who like to smile and pretend. If you need heroic tales about good people who persevere to attain their hero's reward, then "Evening" will not be a satisfying experience.
But if you enjoy beautiful prose, elliptical stories, and dark truths about the world as it is: patriarchal, gender conforming, focused on outer appearances, harshly judgmental, often cruel, and full of suffering -- well, you might love this novel as much as I do.
The protagonist -- a young woman named Ann Grant (at age 25) and Ann Lord (her married name at age 65) -- has not spent her lifetime examining her interior depths. Ann Grant/Ann Lord has a fine memory and a very sharp eye, but she has put those skills to use in the world of outward success. She has "performed" her life according to the dictates of luxury, status, and taste. She married three different times, suffered through various hardships and attained all the big status symbols of a successful life, like a beautiful home, trips to France and Italy, and her grown children now have beautiful children of their own. Author Susan Minot is a careful observer of life, and "Evening" is full of the status-relevant details that surround any member of the white upper-middle class. Ann Grant/Ann Lord is a member of that class, and she is so carefully drawn as to be instantly recognizable as an archetype of her class.
But emotional truth has eluded Ann Grant/Ann Lord until the very end of her life, when she lies on a bed slowly dying of cancer. In the scattered thoughts of her morphine-addled mind, memories and emotion surface to reveal a new order, an order that could only be seen after all of the material trappings of life have fallen away. Alone inside her body, Ann Grant/Ann Lord turns that sharp eye on herself, and the result is this extraordinarily stunning novel.
I first read "Evening" in 2007, and then reread the book this year, in 2018. I loved it even more the second time. It's a haunting story that has stayed with me in the very best way.
This time, reading "Evening" reminded me of the work of Andre Dubus, especially his "Selected Stories." In particular, his short story, "The Pretty Girl," holds a similar place in my heart. That story's central protagonist, Polly, has much in common with Ann Grant/Ann Lord, even though they occupy two different socioeconomic classes; Polly is a white middle-class woman, rather than inhabiting the higher economic advantages of the upper-middle class. Andre Dubus and Susan Minot have an equal dedication to telling the truth, and capturing something true about human nature on the page. I delight in their work and their precise, restrained, and incredibly evocative prose.
Reading "Evening" makes me feel so much. On the one hand, it is the smallest story imaginable, just the story of this one mundane woman and her common, rather loveless, unremarkable life. But that is why the novel feels so sweeping, and so grand. Even the hard-hitting New York Times critic Michiko Kakutani gave this novel a rave review. I don't often agree with Ms. Kakutani, but on this book, I think she is absolutely correct. Here is the link to her review, if you are curious and haven't read it yet --
https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytim...
For anyone who loves literary fiction, I wholeheartedly recommend "Evening." Five full glorious stars.
Another mark of literary fiction at its finest: when there is no hero's reward for being unreflective, emotionally cold, and psychologically average. In a novel like "Evening," there is no heroic philosophical fulfillment to be had for shunning a life of the mind or a life of great passion in favor of chasing material status, which is far more mundane and requires a very different kind of ambition. Authors like Susan Minot understand that economic material rewards and philosophical perspicacity are not often found existing together, and the story doesn't falsely substitute profundity with the size of one's bank account, marital status, or number of grandchildren.
And I am so here for that. *So* here for that. Books like this one make me feel glad to be alive. A great literary novel like "Evening" sometimes feels like the only thing that keeps my heart beating, stories that explode with the dark, ugly truths that have no place in polite company, civil society, or all the moments when I am expected to smile and pretend life is wonderful.
This is not a book to read for people who like to smile and pretend. If you need heroic tales about good people who persevere to attain their hero's reward, then "Evening" will not be a satisfying experience.
But if you enjoy beautiful prose, elliptical stories, and dark truths about the world as it is: patriarchal, gender conforming, focused on outer appearances, harshly judgmental, often cruel, and full of suffering -- well, you might love this novel as much as I do.
The protagonist -- a young woman named Ann Grant (at age 25) and Ann Lord (her married name at age 65) -- has not spent her lifetime examining her interior depths. Ann Grant/Ann Lord has a fine memory and a very sharp eye, but she has put those skills to use in the world of outward success. She has "performed" her life according to the dictates of luxury, status, and taste. She married three different times, suffered through various hardships and attained all the big status symbols of a successful life, like a beautiful home, trips to France and Italy, and her grown children now have beautiful children of their own. Author Susan Minot is a careful observer of life, and "Evening" is full of the status-relevant details that surround any member of the white upper-middle class. Ann Grant/Ann Lord is a member of that class, and she is so carefully drawn as to be instantly recognizable as an archetype of her class.
But emotional truth has eluded Ann Grant/Ann Lord until the very end of her life, when she lies on a bed slowly dying of cancer. In the scattered thoughts of her morphine-addled mind, memories and emotion surface to reveal a new order, an order that could only be seen after all of the material trappings of life have fallen away. Alone inside her body, Ann Grant/Ann Lord turns that sharp eye on herself, and the result is this extraordinarily stunning novel.
I first read "Evening" in 2007, and then reread the book this year, in 2018. I loved it even more the second time. It's a haunting story that has stayed with me in the very best way.
This time, reading "Evening" reminded me of the work of Andre Dubus, especially his "Selected Stories." In particular, his short story, "The Pretty Girl," holds a similar place in my heart. That story's central protagonist, Polly, has much in common with Ann Grant/Ann Lord, even though they occupy two different socioeconomic classes; Polly is a white middle-class woman, rather than inhabiting the higher economic advantages of the upper-middle class. Andre Dubus and Susan Minot have an equal dedication to telling the truth, and capturing something true about human nature on the page. I delight in their work and their precise, restrained, and incredibly evocative prose.
Reading "Evening" makes me feel so much. On the one hand, it is the smallest story imaginable, just the story of this one mundane woman and her common, rather loveless, unremarkable life. But that is why the novel feels so sweeping, and so grand. Even the hard-hitting New York Times critic Michiko Kakutani gave this novel a rave review. I don't often agree with Ms. Kakutani, but on this book, I think she is absolutely correct. Here is the link to her review, if you are curious and haven't read it yet --
https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytim...
For anyone who loves literary fiction, I wholeheartedly recommend "Evening." Five full glorious stars.
October 16, 2024
The ur-WASP text. Too much for even me, and we all know how much I love WASPs
October 30, 2007
continuing on my theme of love and loss, this book has haunted me for months. i started reading it surreptitiously in the library at wellington when they denied me a library card (as if they prophetically knew, i wouldn't be there that long) and at used book stores when i could stumble upon a copy while traveling through new zealand.
i'm nearly speechless to describe the impact it has made upon me... the simple story of a woman in the drugged and painful haze of terminal illness reflects upon her life, but most spectacularly, a weekend when she was in her 20s when she fell completely and hopelessly in love.
the way images and moments flit by, so beautifully told. and yet this one weekend, the one that she relives fully - bittersweet and sublime. it makes you think what will we remember, what will we cherish in our lives, when we are at it's close? so personal and private this memory and this pinnacle, that her own family remains completely unaware, and in this way, never know her... that lends an ineffable melancholy to it all... despite the beauty of the love.
i'm nearly speechless to describe the impact it has made upon me... the simple story of a woman in the drugged and painful haze of terminal illness reflects upon her life, but most spectacularly, a weekend when she was in her 20s when she fell completely and hopelessly in love.
the way images and moments flit by, so beautifully told. and yet this one weekend, the one that she relives fully - bittersweet and sublime. it makes you think what will we remember, what will we cherish in our lives, when we are at it's close? so personal and private this memory and this pinnacle, that her own family remains completely unaware, and in this way, never know her... that lends an ineffable melancholy to it all... despite the beauty of the love.
July 15, 2009
As others mentioned, I could not appreciate this writing style. I found it distracting, and as the story went on I found that at 100 pages in, I still didn't care at all about any of the characters that had been mentioned. At that point I decided to give up. I was disappointed, I'd been looking forward to reading this one, but it wasn't for me.
July 15, 2008
I only got about 65 pages into it. If I hadn't seen the movie I wouldn't have had any idea what was even going on and I wouldn't have read past the first 2 pages. I can't believe this was a best seller.
May 5, 2009
Worst book I've read in years. I saw the movie and hated it, but figured the book should be better. NOPE! And whoever edited it should be slapped. Much of the rambling writing style made my head hurt.
December 18, 2014
One of my all time favorite books ever. It's inside the head of a woman at the end of her life. It's so realistic it blew me away.
March 25, 2023
I first read Lust by Minot and honestly was blown away by it. After reading Evening, I have some mixed thoughts. I’m not sure I’d recommend this one. It can be hard to follow. Throughout the course of the chapters we have Ann moving through the last stages of dying while simultaneously remembering her long lost love, Harris Arden, and the two days they had together. While I love the memories that unfold, I am distracted by the sudden shift to the present tense of Ann’s incoherent and rambling thoughts. This book gave me a headache. I would compare the themes and Minot’s descriptive writing to that of Anita Shreve. Shreve is probably easier to read.
August 4, 2019
Susan Minot manages to convey a whole spectrum of emotions in very few words, jumping from lucid conversations to completely bonkers dreams / hallucinations and yet it all made perfect sense. Yes, Harris was really a typical jock and Anne didn’t exude warmth and likability but who hasn’t thrown caution to the wind and followed their heart when faced with such strong feelings and attraction. Yes it did jump about a bit but all made perfect sense. It was quite intimate at times and I just loved Anne’s conversations with Harris whilst waiting to die. I loved everything about this book
October 3, 2023
A book I will definitely be reading again...
December 5, 2024
Updated review 12/4/24
Disappointing. Proof positive that a Maine setting is not always enough to save a so-so book.
The sentences are often lovely, but so are the colors of insubstantial cotton candy, which disintegrates quickly to reveal nothing but a paper stick at its core.
I just couldn’t engage with the characters or plot. And I was annoyed by the lack of quotation marks for dialogue, which is pretty easy to parse in some novels but definitely often ambiguous in Minot’s style. (Where does the speaking end and the narration begin? Often hard to tell. Some folks will think it’s clever, but I become irritated with this kind of authorial game-playing with the reader. “Read my mind,” the author seems to say.)
But I didn’t finish it, so what do I know? DNF ~ 40%
Disappointing. Proof positive that a Maine setting is not always enough to save a so-so book.
The sentences are often lovely, but so are the colors of insubstantial cotton candy, which disintegrates quickly to reveal nothing but a paper stick at its core.
I just couldn’t engage with the characters or plot. And I was annoyed by the lack of quotation marks for dialogue, which is pretty easy to parse in some novels but definitely often ambiguous in Minot’s style. (Where does the speaking end and the narration begin? Often hard to tell. Some folks will think it’s clever, but I become irritated with this kind of authorial game-playing with the reader. “Read my mind,” the author seems to say.)
But I didn’t finish it, so what do I know? DNF ~ 40%
October 10, 2010
A woman lies dying in the upstairs bedroom of her Cambridge, Massachusetts home. Her grown children wander in and out, their own concerns evident as they try to understand the words she is saying to them. Names they don't recognize, thoughts that seemingly make no sense.
But Ann Lord was once Ann Grant and a bridesmaid at her best friend Lila's wedding on an island off the coast of Maine. Traveling backwards to that time feels like reclaiming who she once was. Memories flood through the pain-filled realities of her present life. Sometimes she cannot remember what happened last week, or five years ago, but the moments in that long ago time are almost as fresh and real as if they are happening right now.
The memories fade in and out, along with the present-day sounds and connections that blur and seem surreal to her. Is she remembering that long ago time in order to recapture that feeling? Is that once-upon-a-time weekend filled with love and rapture something she needs to treasure in order to grab onto what is left of her life? And in recalling those treasured moments, must she also acknowledge that the weekend culminated in tragedy?
Or are the moments just a part of a drug-induced haze bearing little connection to reality at all?
As I read this book, sometimes I had difficulty distinguishing the past from the present, memory from fantasy. Occasionally the words flowed like some kind of gibberish, but with distinctive thoughts at the core. It felt a lot like the reality for someone on a lot of pain medication, who slips in and out of awareness.
Overall, the story came together and stood out in stark relief against the fading backdrop of a woman's slow passage to the other side.
"Evening" was difficult to read in its revelations of one woman's loss, regret, and pain, and how choice casts a long shadow over a lifetime.
Four stars...a difficult read that sometimes dragged and meandered, much like the final days of a life.
But Ann Lord was once Ann Grant and a bridesmaid at her best friend Lila's wedding on an island off the coast of Maine. Traveling backwards to that time feels like reclaiming who she once was. Memories flood through the pain-filled realities of her present life. Sometimes she cannot remember what happened last week, or five years ago, but the moments in that long ago time are almost as fresh and real as if they are happening right now.
The memories fade in and out, along with the present-day sounds and connections that blur and seem surreal to her. Is she remembering that long ago time in order to recapture that feeling? Is that once-upon-a-time weekend filled with love and rapture something she needs to treasure in order to grab onto what is left of her life? And in recalling those treasured moments, must she also acknowledge that the weekend culminated in tragedy?
Or are the moments just a part of a drug-induced haze bearing little connection to reality at all?
As I read this book, sometimes I had difficulty distinguishing the past from the present, memory from fantasy. Occasionally the words flowed like some kind of gibberish, but with distinctive thoughts at the core. It felt a lot like the reality for someone on a lot of pain medication, who slips in and out of awareness.
Overall, the story came together and stood out in stark relief against the fading backdrop of a woman's slow passage to the other side.
"Evening" was difficult to read in its revelations of one woman's loss, regret, and pain, and how choice casts a long shadow over a lifetime.
Four stars...a difficult read that sometimes dragged and meandered, much like the final days of a life.
August 13, 2007
Somehow my review was lost, so here we go again. I liked this book but it wasn't as good as I thought it would be or that I felt it could have been. I really would have liked to see some parts of the storyline more developed and know more about what really happened, some parts were quite ambiguous. The main character, Ann, is lying in her upstairs bedroom dying of cancer and remembering her life as her children move around downstairs, occassionally going in to see her. It was written in a stream of consciousness style, which was fine, I liked it a lot--that's how memories and thoughts actually go through your mind. The main part of her memories is the story of her meeting the love of her life 50 years earlier when she was a bridesmaid in her best friend's wedding. The part I had a hard time believing was that she met and fell in love with this man over one weekend. Three marriages and five children later she has never felt that same love and obsesses over it. I felt that the author spent more time and description over the one and only sexual encounter between the two than she did about any other part of the book, including the death of Ann's young son. As the story goes, the two main characters (Ann and Harris) become more unlikeable...Ann seems to marry men for money and simply because they propose and Harris, as it is revealed, is quite the wanderer. I haven't seen the movie but from what I've seen of the trailers it's quite a bit different from the book.
September 10, 2009
I tried with this book, I really did. I remember when it was first published, reading rave reviews about it, and thinking that some day I wanted to get around to it. So when I spotted it on the library shelf, I figured it would all work out just fine.
Hmm, not so much. The premise sounded like it would work - a woman who is dying deals with her family "taking care" of her in the present, while remembering different people and events in her life. Other books I've read of this type are ones I have found poignant and interesting, even if slightly depressing. But I couldn't even finish this book! I didn't like any of the characters, and it just felt so tedious. So it was returned to the library, me being very glad that I didn't buy it.
Sorry, but I just can't recommend this one to anyone I know.
Hmm, not so much. The premise sounded like it would work - a woman who is dying deals with her family "taking care" of her in the present, while remembering different people and events in her life. Other books I've read of this type are ones I have found poignant and interesting, even if slightly depressing. But I couldn't even finish this book! I didn't like any of the characters, and it just felt so tedious. So it was returned to the library, me being very glad that I didn't buy it.
Sorry, but I just can't recommend this one to anyone I know.
April 23, 2008
I have to admit, I saw the movie first. I liked the movie because it pretty honestly said that sometimes what we think of romance in our heads is actually nothing but memory fluff. And, if it consumes you it can ruin you. The book implied the same thing - although left you with no hope in the end. At least in the movie you feel like her daughter had learned from her mothers' miserable life. She turns a new leaf and tries to make her life happy realizing that there IS no 'perfect man'. I was hoping for a more poignant message from the book, rather than a miserable woman with miserable children. You can pass this book by.
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