This book might have been just as fascinating had it been written to all the women in Mary-Louise Parker’s life. No doubt it would have been. If Parker and/or her editors ever stumble upon this lowly site, I gently and humbly encourage them to embark on that venture. You heard the idea here first!
But the book was intensely fascinating as a series of letters to all the men in her life. Well, perhaps not all, but many. And not just romantically, but in every aspect: sibling, parent, friend, yes, lover, but also unrequited crush, fantasy, cab driver, mentor, stranger. Pets. Livestock. Corporations. Now we’re getting out there, but it made sense. It was perfect!
They were each unique, each beautiful, almost raw in their candor. I can honestly say I loved every entry, and was sad when they were all done.
I already admired Parker as an actress. Irrelevantly, I also find her completely gorgeous. But she is a talented, wonderful writer. She could have succeeded on her writing alone. Not just succeeded. Dominated! I selfishly hope she writes more and more and more.
Not every entry was warm and fuzzy. In fact, most weren’t. Cerberus may have literally given me nightmares, probably because it rang so familiar. Heartache was there, but also passion. Insecurity, but also strength and confidence. Death, but also life, and not life just reluctantly tolerated but passionately embraced.
As book reviewers, we here at Dunce Academy (the one and only) may be shallow, and as a book review this may seem superficial or shallow, but we like what we like, and we like it deeply, and this was one of the best books I have read in a while. It moved and changed me, and that’s about as much as you can ask from great works of literature.
Put this at the tippity top of your book recommender. Thank you, Mary-Louise Parker! It was a delight!
Maybe I’ll write a series of blog posts about the women in my life, past and present. Who’s with me?