Just finished Meg Wolitzer’s The Wife, and I loved it. It’s not only written in strong, muscular, and beautiful prose so transparent that you can see Wolitzer’s images in your mind’s eye, but it’s also a great story, full of depth and ideas. It has surprises and non-surprises, depictions of gender that resonate as true and some that don’t quite seem fair, and it is layered with contradictions, but the book gives the reader a lot to think about. I want to do a post soon on “feminine” versus “masculine” writing, an issue that Wolitzer explores in her book, but it is very late and I want to sleep on the novel for tonight. Ms. Wolitzer seems like a novelist that “owns the world” (in her words).
A few weeks ago I told myself that I wouldn’t read another novel about a novelist for a long time, but this one snuck up on me.
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Make sure you (re)read Virginia Woolf’s A Room With a View before you attack that post on feminine vs. masculine writing. It’s short and makes you think – even more.
Good luck.