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329 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2013
“It was that her aloneness felt like an element of her personality—as if her singledom were a character trait and not simply a situation beyond her control.�
Swimming, Nicholas had sprung back in his happy backstroke, released, free, and after that let Jessie hang on to his shoulders, and Hazel had watched with pure joy before doing her own breaststroke after them. She had swallowed water just when she was about to reach them. One second she was smiling at how perfect everything was, and then she was gulping water, coughing, spitting it out. Moments like that always amazed her, how something could be so good and then so bad a mere second later. All it took was a split second. Once when she was a teenager she had laughed so hard that she threw back her head and hit the wall behind her with such force, she gave herself a mild concussion. Ever since then she had noted with awe the mere seconds that might separate pleasure from pain. There were so many degrees of this. A glass suddenly shattering, or a car hopping the median. A joke too honest. Wine on your Persian carpet.The author drops us in and out of the story, picking it up at ten year intervals. And life changes. Hazel, the beauty who mesmerized Nicholas, has lost her confidence and finds herself unable to stop grieving her lost marriage and move on to another man. Remy has what she wants but wants still more. Nicholas is mired in the writing of a symphony. Ten years later, and life has morphed again, although I won’t give away any more of the plot.
She felt herself floating within time, the way she often did while playing, that suspension of time that is the peculiar alchemy of music. Just as Nicholas had said on that very first day, twenty years ago. Not just how fast or how slowly the music moves. It’s about how fast and slow life moves.