single parents | Seattle Book Mama

4.5 stars. An impulsive choice made at the last minute, and how often do those pan out? Literary fiction, 4 stars.

Joannie is an author trying to live off the increasingly scant checks garnered by her first–and last–novel. She’s a single parent, and as she and the rest of the world come out of hiding following the pandemic, blinking like naked mole rats, she accepts a date, her first in seven years, from a man that lives around the corner. He has a child too! So it all starts out so innocently, so normally, and might have remained so, had the billionaires not crash landed their hot air balloon in Johnny’s pool that evening.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Knopf for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

I generally avoid novels that feature major characters that are wealthy, but this one had its platinum tongue in its diamond-encrusted cheek so plainly that I decided to take a chance. Here’s what I love the best about it: instead of opening with a humorous passage or two that turn out to be about the only funny material the book has to offer—the sort that makes me suspicious that the author only brought out their A game for the first three chapters, the part that the publisher would see—Hot Air begins with a clever moment or two, and then it ramps up until the climax, at which point I am helpless with laughter. The pair in the balloon—Jonathan and Julia—are the most solipsistic individuals I’ve seen in print in some time, but they want to believe in their own goodness, and the inner conflict, what there is of it, between trying to be at least sort of decent, yet being determined, in the end, to put their own wishes first, is deftly handled. Joannie, on the other hand, is from the real world, and she’s trying to find just a scintilla of personal happiness without screwing things up and making her little girl pay the price. We bounce between their points of view, including the home owner’s, of course, with occasional references made to Jonathan’s personal assistant, Vivian, a young Vietnamese woman tasked with cleaning up all of his messes. Here’s a sample from the very beginning, so I’m not spoiling anything:

“He took a photo of the hot air balloon at the bottom of the pool and sent it to Vivian in a text message. ‘Here’s a challenge for you,’ he wrote. She could take care of it. She was the one who had actually rented the balloon, after all, set up the lessons. It occurred to him that this was her fault. She should have told him it was a bad idea.”

We’re well into the second half of this novel when we hear Vivian’s point of view, and it is a miracle that I am able to avoid spraying my sandwich across the table, it’s so surprising and so funny!

At 208 pages, this little novel flies by, aided by the abundant, punchy dialogue. I haven’t had such a happy surprise in ages; now you can, too! Anyone might enjoy this story, but I especially recommend it to women. If you need some comic relief, get this book! You won’t be sorry.

We need more writers like Amy Poeppel. Her previous novels, Admissions and Limelight, are whip-smart and hilarious; both involve well-developed characters stuck in odd but credible situations. Her new novel, Musical Chairs, shares these attributes, but it’s even funnier, and even more insightful. Lucky me, I read it free and early thanks to Atria Books and Net Galley. It’s available to the public August 1, 2020.

Our protagonists are Bridget and Will; they are family to one another in the modern sense, the sense that sometimes we adopt our most important friends and declare them to be kin. They’ve been together as performers in the Forsyth Trio since college. Bridget has never married; Will is divorced. They have seen one another through thick and thin, and well meaning outsiders think they must surely harbor romantic feelings for one another. Will has no children, but has served as a father figure to Bridget’s twins, both grown.

Summer is here, and Bridget is preparing to spend it in her summer house in Connecticut. Her boyfriend, Sterling, will be joining her; she thinks that he may be the one. But you know what they say about the best laid plans. Sterling dumps her on her ass without a moment’s hesitation, and both of her children descend on her unannounced. Her octogenarian father lands in the hospital. Nothing that happens is the way she had planned it.

At the same time, Will has been looking forward to some time on his own in the city, but Bridget is in distress and so he drops his other plans for her. Not one thing goes as planned.

I don’t usually enjoy books about rich people, and Bridget’s family is wealthy indeed. This one works for me because the disparity in wealth between Bridget and Will, who is an ordinary starving artist, is addressed in a natural, organic way throughout the narrative; but beyond that, I feel I know Bridget, and so she is not the rich woman, not the heiress, but instead she is Bridget, and she feels like a friend. We always forgive our dearest friends for things that are generally deal breakers with others. Finally, Poeppel has no tolerance for pretension, and more than anything, her honesty turns a good story into a terrific one.

The pacing here never slackens; one crisis is nearing resolution when another one pops loose. At one point I am convinced that Poeppel is driving home a message about the destructive nature of secrecy, but by the ending I can see she’s done no such thing. Sometimes secrets are great. Sometimes they work out well. And sometimes they are only secrets for a while as their owner waits for an appropriate time to reveal them.

The side characters here are brilliant as their perspective contrasts with that of the protagonists. The internal monologue involving Bridget and Will is personal, even intimate, and so we see everything as they do; but then Jackie, the ambitious young assistant that Edward has hired for the summer, looks these folks over and weighs in, and her observations make me laugh out loud. In fact, this book marks the first time since the pandemic began (at the beginning of March, here in Seattle) that anything I’ve read has made me laugh. It felt great! Then later, another side character’s pet parrot Ronaldo pipes up and it happens again. (My laughter woke my husband, and I was a little bit sorry, but also not.)

The dialogue between Edward and Will near the end makes me shake my head in awe.

At the outset, I am puzzling over the title. Musical Chairs turns out to be a website for job-searching musicians, but later I see a broader reason that this title was chosen. Throughout the chaos that unfolds for Bridget and Will this summer, the characters are constantly changing places, rotating, and assuming new positions, and it’s fine, because—and here’s our real message—change is not failure.

The references to the musical “My Fair Lady” are icing on the cake.

Highly recommended, and likely to be one of this year’s best books.