This was a Book Club title. I found Laura a bit over the top in her obsession with women to women relationships and what they meant or didn't mean or should have meant etc. I know she is dying in the book and as such is entitled to do exactly what she wants till the end of her short time on earth. Instead of introspection, I sometimes felt like her whole life was one disappointing relationship after another. She did love her precious Charles, but other than him, everyone she knows or is related to is just a compilation of faults and losses and missed opportunities. Not one I would recommend to read although I am sure it will lead to a lively discussion at the Book Club, and for that it was worth reading.
The theme, as the title suggests, is the sad, slow process of grieving the death of May's long-time friend. This is a journal, which by its nature, and because of the theme, is rather repetitive and depressing. I appreciate her amazing persistence, fed by a talent many know and respect, she keeps on writing a novella in which she finds no joy. In a way, I'd rather not know that but author's are subject to the same emotions as the rest of humankind. Sometimes work that we love doesn't nurture us. I stopped reading this book because I felt like I had reaped all there was, and of course, I may be very wrong in that assessment.
