My sister and I are great liars. World-class liars. Maybe we were born with the trait (after all, our paternal grandmother’s top hobby was shoplifting.) Brooklyn-born Great-Aunt Sally (Jewish, like the rest of the family) pretended to be Catholic and French — and swore she attended the Sorbonne. She even spoke English with a Gallic … Read more
Unmitigated panic. Unrelenting fear. Ulcer-inducing worry. A year ago my book was launching and I should have been on cloud nine. I was realizing a life-long dream at a time when many my age popped Lipitor. I was edging close to a sedative habit. Looking back to my novel debut last January, terror defined my … Read more
I grew up with the idea that the size of my body was the most important thing in the world—and that my body was always too large. When I look back at pictures, I see me at normal, chubby, and large—but at no time did I ever see myself as anything but too big … Read more
I never met a book by Ruth Reichl I haven’t loved, and my adoration continued with this book. Where others were hearty meals, Not Becoming My Mother (retitled for the paperback as For You Mom, Finally) was a deceptively simple snack. (I’m certain that Ms. Reichl, editor of Gourmet Magazine, would find a more elegant … Read more
Four years ago, at an event at the incredibly wonderful Reading Public Library (in Reading Massachusetts) one of the librarians bought my second novel book, The Comfort of Lies, for her mother. For Mother’s Day. Using a large amount of not-usually-available-to-me control, I didn’t say any of the following: “Nothing says Happy Mother’s Day like a … Read more