Love the writing in this book, and the "inside the head" voice of the protagonist is dead on.
The story is about an English professor who teaches poetry (and thinks in words - lots of associations - which seems unaffected and natural to me. I loved it), finds she has breast cancer, as did her mother who is still alive, and goes off the deep end, dragging everyone with her.
Our protagonist is less than perfect. Interestingly, I kept thinking what if she were a man, would she have to pay for her actions? She thinks that too, on more than one occasion. You have to read the book to find out, and I wonder in the end if this is the same as all-women-who-step-outside-the-norm fiction. Somehow DeWoskin has managed to make me think not, has left me with a lot of things to think about.
I ordered two of her other books the library has. If I weren't on buying hiatus, I'd buy this one because of the writing in it!
Excerpts:
"I ran faster, my heart bracing against my chest, the back wall, the front wall, the cancer maybe bouncing inside wall-to-wall, this time like a superball, pinball, beach ball. Think, I reminded myself, of outside things, I began to count the trees I ran by: endless, thought the rush of them helped calm me down. Trunk, trunk, trunk, branches branches leaves, Sam, breathe. I ran uphill to the edge of the park, then down a hill Alexi used to sled down, of the kids called Demon's Dive. I used to clip Alexi's mittens to a bright pink parka Hank's wife Sarah bought her, then put her on my lap in the blue plastic sled....
I stopped running and made my way slowly along the grass, ewer trees now and several other runners. I said, "You're not scared" to myself, instead of, "I'm not scared." Neither was true. I was so scared all the time that I didn't recognize the newly electric scent of my own skin, fear rising like light off of me, a kind of shocking shine. I was the bipolar sky before a tornado, so bright the look of it rang like sound, smelled like metal, shimmered like Hopkins' shook foil."
"Some women walked naked in the locker room, so slowly they may as well have been underwater, nothing wrong with being completely naked - even it it was what I considered to be 'bad naked,' a la that "Seinfeld" episode about what you do and don't do naked....Did this make me a woman-hater? Maybe, although clearly the same rules applied to men maybe exponentially. So maybe it just made me a prude? Probably, although I was also a reinvigorated sex monster who backed my student up against the sink at Coffee Queen against her will and better judgement, so could I be both a prude and a pervert?
"Of course! It was a common and popular Republican arrangement, wasn't it? I was just on my way to being a congressman, that was all..."