Meredith Maran’s marriage falls apart and she move from San Francisco to take a writing job with a clothing company in Los Angeles. She describes her slow, painful path through denial, bargaining, anger and acceptance with care and a sort of firm dedication to realness, even enumerating her various dramas, including the interior ones, with a sort of lack of drama. This style of writing is SO another decade, eons before people like Jen Hatmaker and Glennon Melton Doyle came on the scene barking and crowing and howdy ya’lling. Clearly Maran learned to write well before the internet was a thing and a certain verbal diarrhea became acceptable as writing. Her writing is so clean, her thinking done well before putting pen to paper (or finger to key), so that the fact of her deep vulnerability comes as an afterthought, a sort of gasp as you close the book. I loved this. Thank you Meredith.
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