I'm in the midst of Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. So far it's very, very good. The story, the detail, the phrasing -- Patchett seems to be good at all of it.
Nancy handed me Truth & Beauty, Patchett's memoir of her friendship with Lucy Grealy, and was tickled when I tucked into it like Mikey on a bowl of Life cereal. (I'm tricky to please; I don't get very far in most books before I find something I don't like and tune out.)
I'm now unintentionally on a bit of an Ann-and-friends spree. One book has led to another, and I've since read Grealy's Autobiography of a Face before moving on to Bel Canto. I'd already read the novels of their mutual friend Elizabeth McCracken a few years ago.
I've loved all of it. After this I'll promptly read the rest of Patchett's novels, and from there I might even try to get my hands on some of Grealy's poetry, just to see. And McCracken has another one, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, that I'll likewise look in on.
Makes me wonder if they have any other friends...
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