This morning I had to make an early run to the grocery store. My cat was out of treats and I was close to out of ketchup. An absence of either could result in grouchy behavior. At just about 8 am I walked into the store and at nearly the same time I saw a man leaving holding a takeaway coffee in his right hand. To compete I guess with a Starbucks nearby, in the grocery there is a takeout coffee station. The entrance and exit doors to the grocery are automatic. The doors opened for him and me concurrently. I had a great view of the guy banging into the close to completely opened door, spilling coffee from the tiny sucking opening on the lid and shouting as he burned his ungloved fingers. It's possible that he anticipated the door would open more and he would have space, but it seemed to me that he just wasn't paying attention. He rammed into the door. He burned his hand, he lost some coffee. As I walked past I heard him mutter "fucking door" Hey Mack, I thought, the door is inanimate. You walked right into it. Don't blame the door.
I finished An Available Man by Hilma (not Meg) Wolitzer yesterday morning. I was looking for a good novel and had enjoyed another book by her a few years back. It was an easy, fast read and in that respect what I wanted. As a drawback the novel reminded me of advice that Bird by Bird author Anne Lamott offered about plot. Lamott suggested that authors allow characters to develop the story and not to have a definite idea about where the story would go until the writer "listens" to the characters. As I mentioned in an earlier review, I don't agree with this advice. In An Available Man Wolitzer seemed to me as if she took Lamott's advice and was not really sure where the book was going to go when she started. She had the general idea. A man is widowed, is out there and available. The book is about what happens subsequently. In addition to the widowed, now available, husband, the author probably had other parts of the story in place: he had loved his wife; he had two stepchildren; the mother of the deceased was still alive; there was a dog; the main character was a teacher; the main character's romantic history had a big bump in it-but beyond these facts, it did not seem to me as if she had specifics or maybe even an idea of how it all was going to wind up. As it turned out, it wound up fine; interesting story--I don't believe some aspects of it are likely and without spilling the story I can't go into what, but I don't buy some of the plot. Still the story got tied up if in an unlikely way with an unlikely set of connections, but it was tied up and, in general, a good read.
A message in the book resonated with me even though it is not that profound. We are responsible for our own happiness. We can make decisions that will allow us to be happy or we can choose to block the paths to joy. I'm not necessarily the greatest at following that advice, but at least I know that we have, myself and everyone else, choices. One of the peripheral characters in the novel is a psychic and she relays this "you have a choice" advice to a character. A key is not to take the predictably bumpy roads when, even without a gps, you can see that there are routes that are likely to be far more exciting, salubrious, and relatively obstacle free. And it follows as a corollary that, unlike the guy I saw this morning who burned his hand, don't blame hot coffee on your fingers on the fucking door when you, yourself, walked into it.
Do I recommend the book? Yes, it is an easy, well written read. Do I suggest you rush right out and get it, no. It is not grab your neighbor and say you must read it good. But on a rainy day when you are looking for something to read in an easy chair, you could do much worse.
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