I wasn’t surprised to start Part Two of the book finding the Wheelers still in Connecticut. As much as I kind of hoped they would be in Paris, and that might mean a change for the better for them, the fact that they hadn’t left didn’t surprise me.

But I was pleasantly surprised that in the first chapter things seemed to be running so smoothly for Frank and April. The trip planning turned into a project that drew them together and distracted them from all the faults they had been seeing in each other.

We also spend some time in Frank’s office in Chapter 1. He has a talk with Maureen Grube, effectively putting any potential relationship to an end. What did you think of the way that Frank handled the conversation?

We also see Frank being productive for the first time in the office. He actually solves the problem with the Toledo branch and the NAPE conference by writing up a short brochure. Do you think the realization that he will soon be leaving Knox has spurred him into a newfound sense of productivity?

In these three chapters, Yates plays around with the point of view. Finally we can see parts of the story from a perspective other than Frank’s. In Chapter 1 there is a short part of a dinner table scene that is told from the point of view of the children—mainly that they are scared about the move to Paris, have found they can get away with bad behavior, and are thankful for the end of the fighting. In Chapter 2, we see things from Shep Campbell’s point of view, while Chapter 3 is from Helen Givings’ perspective. What do you think Yates was trying to tell us about the Wheelers by giving us these other viewpoints?

Given what Yates reveals about the Campbells’ history, what insight do you have into them now? They have started to see the Wheelers as snobs, and the announcement of the Wheelers’ move to Paris only seems to strengthen the way they feel. Also in this chapter Shep reveals that he has feelings (my money is on lust) for April. Do you think we will see something come up with this again?

With Chapter 3’s switch to Helen Givings’ perspective, we get a look at her life and how she has continued to work even after moving out of New York City. I thought her perspective of work was so strikingly different from Frank’s:

“ ‘Hard work,’ her father had always said, ‘is the best medicine yet devised for all the ills of man—and of woman,’ and she’d always believed it. The press and bustle and glare of the office, the quick lunch sent up on a tray, the crisp handling of papers and telephones, the exhaustion of staying overtime and the final sweet relief of slipping off her shoes at night, which always left her feeling drained and pure and fit for nothing but two aspirins and a hot bath and a light supper and bed… Without it, as she often said, she would have gone out of her mind.”

I’m curious if you identify more with Helen’s view on work, or with Frank’s—mainly that he just doesn’t care? Do you think this is a product of the times and the gender roles that were prevalent when the story was set?

And finally, in this chapter, Helen asks the Wheelers if they would mind having her son over on one of his visits from Greenacres, as a way of getting him closer to home without the dangers of bringing him to her house. Were you surprised when April agreed to the afternoon visit? If the Wheelers weren’t planning to leave the country do you think April would have said yes? Or is she just taking the attitude of “We’ll be gone soon, so it doesn’t matter”?

We’ll finish Part Two later this week. As always, if you have things you’d like to discuss as you’re reading ahead, e-mail me at simplystated@realsimple.com with Revolutionary Road in the subject line.

—Kristin Appenbrink

Real Simple Deputy Editor Noelle Howey will be leading the book club discussion in December.  Click here to help choose the book that everyone will be reading.  Cast your vote by November 30!

The second half of Part One takes us away from Frank and April’s relationship and instead focuses on Frank’s life outside the house. We saw them barely survive a weekend, and then it’s back to work in the city for Frank.

Chapter 5 introduces us to the fact that Frank works at the same company where his father did when he was growing up. However, Frank’s dad never made it out of a sales office, while Frank started in the “home office.” Frank’s first encounter with Knox Business Machines comes from a trip into New York with his father. It’s clear that as a child Frank was disappointed with the visit. How do you think this impacts Frank’s future relationship with the company?

These chapters also introduce Frank’s coworkers. The two of the most importance are Jack Ordway and Maureen Grube. Ordway is Frank’s office mate. He is a high-functioning alcoholic who relies on Frank to cover for him a good portion of the time. I had a hard time figuring out their relationship. What does Frank think about Jack Ordway? Ordway tells these stories about his wife’s friends and their high, lavish life, but when Frank visits the Ordways’ home, he finds none of it to be true. Does he pity Ordway or have contempt for him?

Maureen Grube is a whole different story. Frank is attracted to Maureen and decides to actually act on it. He breaks office protocol by taking her to lunch, and he has to sneak out of the building with her, in a sense. Then they go to Maureen’s apartment in the city to have sex. What do you think motivates Frank to act on his impulse and attraction at this point in the story, and at this point in his life? 

My other question about Maureen is that, like April, we see her only through Frank’s eyes and some limited dialogue. How do you think the story of their lunch would be different if Maureen was the one telling it instead of Frank?

Frank returns home Monday evening, which happens to be his birthday, to a surprise celebration and a wife with a plan. Are the party and presents April’s way of making a grand gesture and attempting to let Frank know that the argument is over? Do you think this is the pattern in their relationship?

And finally, April’s plan is for them to move their family to Europe, where she will get a secretarial job in a government office and Frank will have time to “find himself.” Earlier, Frank’s college friends had also noted that he could be great if only he had time to “find himself.” Do you think this puts too much pressure on Frank? Is he afraid that he will find nothing other than the man who holds an office job at Knox Business Machines?

The end of Part One leaves us with the Wheelers planning to head off to Europe to escape the doldrums and disappointments of suburbia. Do you think they will actually go? And if they do go will it make things any better?

That’s it for this week. We’ll tackle Part Two next week. And if you have suggestions or you want to specifically talk about anything in the upcoming chapters, e-mail me at simplystated@realsimple.com with Revolutionary Road in the subject line.

—Kristin Appenbrink

In these first four chapters the introduction to Frank and April Wheeler doesn’t necessarily paint the happiest picture. In this frame we have the failure of April’s play, an argument between Frank and April that results in three nights of April sleeping on the couch, and a first look at their childhoods, where we realize that neither one was particularly happy growing up.

But there are the silver linings to their relationship as well, as Frank flashes back to his apartment on Bethune Street and the time spent together when they first met. There were some questions that hit me as I was reading.

Why does Yates use the play to introduce us to the Wheelers? What does the failure of it mean to the Wheelers, and how does it foreshadow how the characters will develop in the story?

As Frank is reflecting on the play, he mentions that he saw April transform before his eyes from “a girl whose every glance and gesture could make his throat fill up with longing…into the graceless, suffering creature…a gaunt constricted woman whose red eyes flashed reproach.”  But though we see April vividly through Frank’s eyes, we never get any idea of what April’s view of Frank would be. Do you think she feels the same kind of disdain that, at times, even borders on disgust?

A lot of this first part of the book revolves around self-perception—and how Frank and April want to avoid seeing themselves as a typical suburban couple. The play is an attempt at proving they aren’t like the rest of their neighbors, but once that fails what sets them apart? Is it the volatility of their relationship?

Based on the look we get at their childhoods and the interactions we see them having with their children, how do you think their kids, Jennifer and Michael, will look back on their parents?

Yates has an interesting way of dealing with time in this book. He jumps from present time to a memory as fluidly as we do in our daily lives, but does that make the book hard to follow? Were there times you didn’t realize we were no longer dealing with the present? Do you think it would have been more effective to start the story back on Bethune Street, or are the memories a better way of telling that story?

Throughout these chapters Frank and April are involved in a multiday fight, and it isn’t resolved by the end of Chapter 4. What is your reaction to the argument and the way each of them handle it? Do you think the Campbells’ visit helps or hurts their path to making up?

And the final question, also about the visit with the Campbells: For the first time the Wheelers realize they have nothing to talk about. Did the failure of the play contribute to this? They no longer see themselves as the romantics they thought they were. Or was that inevitable and completely unrelated to the play?

Because there is so much to respond to, I’ll be breaking each of the three parts into two posts. Later this week, we’ll finish the last three chapters of Part One. And as you’re reading if anything comes up that you’d like to discuss, e-mail me at simplystated@realsimple.com, with Revolutionary Road in the subject line.

—Kristin Appenbrink

Hi, everyone, I’m Kristin Appenbrink, an assistant editor at Real Simple. If you click around Simply Stated, you’ll normally find me posting in the Home & Organizing section about environmentally friendly topics and the challenges of living in a small apartment. I’m excited to branch out and get the chance to discuss Revolutionary Road with you.

Like Corynne, I credit my mom with my love of reading. Growing up, it was tradition in our house to read each night before we went to bed. She read chapter books to my sister and me before we could even make it through Dr. Seuss or the tons of Golden Books we had. I’m thankful that this love of reading has stuck with me into my adult life.

As I narrowed my list of four books—and it was hard to choose only four—Revolutionary Road and The Blood of Flowers, by Anita Amirrezvani, were my top two picks. And I think it was evident that you felt the same way. This was the closest race yet between two choices, with just 50 votes separating the books. I have to admit, while I was aware of Revolutionary Road, I hadn’t put it on my to-read list until I heard a film was being made of it. I read a lot and I also love to go to the movies, but I refuse to see the film version of a book unless I’ve read it first.

Since Revolutionary Road is broken up into three parts, and I’ll be writing about it for three weeks, I’ll be covering one section per week—but in a few postings, breaking down each section into smaller parts so they are (hopefully!) easier to digest. Remember, feel free to go at your own pace and comment when you have the time and inclination. This is, after all, the no-obligation book club.

See you back here next week for Part One.

--Kristin Appenbrink

Here, the author of Run, the Real Simple No-Obligation Book Club's second pick, answers a few questions from readers.

Q: What made you decide to set this story in the middle of a snow storm in Boston? I, myself, am from just outside Boston and am aware of how the city and its residents react in the middle of a storm so I found it the perfect setting for this story!

Posted by: Amy | October 25, 2008 at 03:07 PM

Ann's response: I set it in Boston because it¹s someplace I know pretty well. I had a Bunting Fellowship at Radcliffe in 1993 and my friend Elizabeth McCracken is from there. The snow was all about making the familiar world unfamiliar. It wipes away everything the characters thought they knew. It's also claustrophobic and I am always a fan of claustrophobia in fiction.

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Q: There is so much authentic detail about the relationships and history between the individuals, the family structures, and the city. Does your background include Irish Catholic, or are you just exceptionally good at capturing nuances? How do you structure and develop your writing and research? Thanks for an interesting style and thoughtful portrayals.

Posted by: Ann McGinity | October 25, 2008 at 08:49 PM

Ann's response: Thanks for the compliment. I'm Catholic, both Irish and English (a very small tribe, the English Catholics) but that really doesn't have much to do with things. I make an awful lot of stuff up. I do research, I read a lot about fish and politics, but mostly I just think very deeply about things.

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Q: I was just curious about your perspective on the "Tennessee" and Tennessee conversation ... what are your thoughts on the importance of making this revelation a part of the story? I've puzzled through it some, and can't quite seem to get my mind around why it was necessary to make Kenya an orphan. Quite possibly, I missed something. By the way, it was a wonderful read. Thank you.

Posted by: Paula | October 25, 2008 at 09:36 PM

Ann's response: I think for me this book is largely about the concept of responsibility. The fact that Tennessee isn't Kenya's biological mother just adds another layer of complexity into a story of who-belongs-with-whom. It almost becomes a game of musical chairs, all these mothers, all these children, the love becomes interchangeable. Everybody is trying to do the best job they can in the circumstances they find themselves in.

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Q: I absolutely loved this book! How did you become such an excellent writer so young? Who were your mentors and what helped you develop your "voice"?

What influences in your life contribute to your writing?

Posted by: Chris H | October 26, 2008 at 11:57 AM

Ann's response: Wow, thanks for thinking I'm young. I'll be 45 in December.

Of course you may be referring to my first novel, Patron Saint of Liars. I was 26 when I wrote that one, very young. My mentors were two college teachers, Grace Paley and Allan Gurganus. As for finding my voice it's all about years and years of work. Think of me as Yo-Yo Ma. There's a huge amount of practice involved.

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Q: Hi Ann, I've always been fascinated with how authors come up with the titles for their novels. I love the title of this book. Were there any other prospective titles you had in mind while writing this novel? If so, how did you settle on Run?

Posted by: Erika | October 26, 2008 at 09:26 PM

Ann's response: Early on I was calling the book Nature as in Nature vs Nurture, but at that point the book was more about science. I was very happy when I came up with Run. It seemed so clear and straightforward and I thought it would be easy to remember. Then people started calling it Ran and Gone.

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Q: I was wondering, in the end, why you gave a follow up on what Tip was doing and what Teddy was doing, and what Kenya was doing, but no followup on Sullivan? He was present, so he hadn't run away again, but what was he doing, and how was he supporting himself? I felt like this was a loose end.....I am interested in your motive. Thanks!

Posted by: Tarin | October 27, 2008 at 09:21 AM

Ann's response: I felt like it would just wrap everything up too neatly if I laid it all out for everyone. I thought the reader should be left to use her imagination because given the conversation it's pretty clear that Sullivan's life didn't change very much.

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Q: I have been leading this discussion on this book. Wow, what a journey. As you can see everyone was engaged from page one. Anyway, I am wondering about a couple of things:

Why did Bernadette open the story and then disappear?

The statue and its history were fascinating. Why did you decide that future generations needed to know its true origin?

What made you use the conversations between the two Tennessees to reveal the truth about what Kenya was? That was probably the most shocking thing in the book and I loved it!

Posted by: Corynne | October 27, 2008 at 02:19 PM

Ann's response: Bernadette's death sets the story in motion. Without her none of those people would have come together but if she had lived the plot isn't set into motion. The statue sets up a lot of themes in the book, about thinking you understand origins and motives and later finding out you're wrong, assuming identity based on appearances, the importance of matriarchy. As for the conversation between the two Tennessees, I like the idea of the reader having a piece of information that none of the characters have access to in the end. I also liked the fact that it could be read as either a post-surgical fantasy or a real visitation from a dead friend.

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Q: Do you ever have a problem deciding how to end a book?

Posted by: Kathy | October 28, 2008 at 04:57 PM

Ann's response: Sure, but I always solve that problem before I start to write the book.

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Q: Hi Ann! I didn't like this book as much as Bel Canto - which I absolutely adored! I had a lot of problems with the dialogue. It just didn't ring true to me. Do you have a favorite book? What are you working on now?

Thanks for answering our questions!

Posted by: Chris | October 28, 2008 at 07:32 PM

Ann's response: Favorite book probably The Ambassadors by Henry James.

Sorry this one didn't work for you. I am just starting a new novel now.

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Q: When Kenya and Tip were walking at Harvard, there was a sign in a bedroom window Obama 2012. Could you tell us why you included this in the book?

Posted by: Cytotek | October 28, 2008 at 09:30 PM

Ann's response: There's a whole essay about that at the end of the paperback edition.

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Q: How is it that Tip is so passionately interested in fish? Did you yourself already know a lot about fish? Is there a special significance in this choice? Thank you for a complexly woven and emotionally engaging story.

I lived in Boston for several years on both Dartmouth & St. Botolph Streets, and my mom worked in Cambridge, so that added an extra layer of connection for me. :)

Posted by: Allyn | October 29, 2008 at 12:56 PM

Ann's response: I didn't know a thing about fish but I'm fascinated by people who have great intelligence and very narrow interests. I knew Tip would be a scientist so it was just a matter of picking his field. I had a friend who had studied ichthyology at Harvard so I had access to a lot of information.

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Q: I got a few emails from readers and wanted to pass along this question:

How did you navigate the issues of race and class in this book?

Posted by: Corynne | October 29, 2008 at 02:41 PM

Ann's response: I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm fascinated by issues of race and class and I think they are of central importance in our country. It's something that a lot of people have a hard time talking about so why not put it in a book in hopes of getting people thinking and talking about it?

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Q: I don't know if I missed this in the book, but why did the rest of the family seem to avoid Father Sullivan? They never visited him and I was wondering why?

Posted by: Sue Hicks | October 29, 2008 at 04:52 PM

Ann's response: People avoid old people, especially old people in nursing homes. They avoid them like the plague.

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Q: Ann I loved this book. I'm Irish Catholic, and commute into Boston to work, so much of the book was familiar and very real to me. Like all great books I'm still thinking of the characters and wondering what comes next for them. I wonder if Tennessee's death unveiled the truth regarding her identity? Would you ever consider continuing this story? Also, was there some significance to Sullivan giving Tennessee the ice she requested? A nurse questioned her about having any water, and I keep wondering if that has something to do with the hospital not detecting what ultimately killed her. Thank you for this opportunity to communicate with you!

Posted by: | October 30, 2008 at 05:01 PM

Ann's response: I'm glad you're still thinking about the characters. I think the end of the book comes when I stop thinking about them and you then pick the story up in your own imagination. As for me, I'm done with them.They're gone. I'm excited about writing new books. Tennessee's death did not unveil the truth about her identity. Only the reader knows that. And no, the ice had nothing to do with Tennessee's death, but it was still a stupid thing for Sullivan to have done.

Please note that this post reveals how the book ends.  If you haven't finished the book, you might not want to read the rest of this post.

Chapter 11: Honor, Sacrifice, Truth, and Tradition

I am so sorry that this book had to end. When I reached the climactic scene in the last chapter between Father Sullivan and Teddy, I was heartbroken. But I understand that Tennessee had to die to move this story forward. The impact of her death on Tip and Teddy comes as somewhat of a surprise (probably more in Tip’s case). But then again, Teddy’s move into politics puts his talent for speech memorization to good use.

But learning how Teddy gets there–by bargaining with God when both his uncle and the woman who gave birth to him are in dire straits—is quite moving. Throughout the book, Teddy has been the heart of the Doyles. And his sacrifice comes out of love, so he doesn’t seem conflicted about his family. Doyle reaps the rewards of this sacrifice by having one of his children follow in his footsteps.

Tip’s sacrifice seems to come from his head. He couldn’t comprehend the senseless nature of Tennessee’s death. How could the doctors have overlooked her spleen? But although he made the sacrifice and chose to attend medical school, his head and heart were never in agreement. That was obvious to Kenya, who continued to call him on it. In the end, he makes the decision to give up medicine in his head, but I do wonder whether he had the guts to stand by that decision. Tip never wanted to disappoint anyone.

I wonder, however, if Tip would have gone through with a career in medicine if the family had actually given him the statue. They thought he was joking (but I suspect part of him would have soldiered on if it were actually in his hands). It was a nice touch by Patchett to take us back to the legacy of how the statue had been passed down through the Sullivan family. Kenya would inherit the statue because it was supposed to go to a female. In the end, Doyle got the daughter Bernadette always wanted. And it is a great touch that the two Tennessees watch over her from that picture.

Kenya seemed to have a seamless transition into the Doyle family. But when she runs,             we can still see her meditating on all that occurred since the night of the rally—still wanting her mothers but also enjoying life with the brothers she watched for so long. She is no longer invisible to them.

We are so excited that Ann Patchett has agreed to answer our questions about the book. But in the meantime, let’s end our discussion together with these questions:

• Were you happy with or disappointed by the book’s ending?
• What did you think of the sacrifices that Tip and Teddy made?
• Was Kenya the person who ultimately healed the Doyle family?
• Did you want to hear from Tennessee or Bernadette at the end of the story?

—Corynne Corbett

After the closest race yet, Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates, has won the November vote. Join Kristin Appenbrink, Real Simple’s assistant editor and a Home & Organizing blogger, on Wednesday, November 5, as she introduces herself and the book. Then, in the coming weeks, she’ll post her thoughts about Revolutionary Road. Remember, no deadlines, no pressure: Start the book when you’d like to, read it at your own pace, and join in the discussion when and if you wish.

Ann Patchett herself has agreed to answer any questions you have about Run.

Post your questions as comments here, I'll email them to her, and I'll post her answers in a couple of weeks...

Wow, I can’t believe that we’re almost through with this book. I have become so invested in the characters and their stories that I really don’t want it to end. In these two chapters, the story builds to its climax with the Doyle clan, Kenya, and Father Sullivan converging at the hospital to see Tennessee. But the journeys they take to get there offer us even more insight into each of them.

Up to this point Tip has dealt with Kenya only from an arm’s distance (and he was even less interested in Tennessee). And just as early in the book, when he decided he wasn’t going to the post-lecture party (which resulted in the accident), he made the decision to take Kenya to Harvard to run so he could once again be with his beloved fish. Snow be damned! Bringing her along was the price Tip was willing to pay to get back to what he loved. Kenya, too, was willing to move heaven and earth to get to her passion and her mother.

The trip to Cambridge challenged Kenya from the start because she was so used to following instructions given to her by adults—while Tip, in his rebellion, let his strong will lead. Once again that led him into trouble. Kenya demonstrated both her maturity (tending to Tip’s hypothermia) and the genuine fears of an 11-year-old girl (after Tip fell again), which helped us better understand what a brave front she had been putting on all along. Between those two incidents, she finally got the chance to run. When she did, Kenya not only reached a place of peace, she also inspired awe in those who saw her in motion.

But don’t you think Tip was being a bit sarcastic when he used the word “sister” to gain access to the gym? For him, it seemed like a means to an end. He was also not expecting anything special from Kenya on the track. Watching her started the genuine thaw in Tip’s icy demeanor (the guess-the-fish game earlier had chipped away a little, too). The act of running helped Kenya make sense of all that had transpired in the last 24 hours. It was the place where she could outpace her fears, at least for a while.

I also think it is interesting that Teddy wakes up from a dream in which he is running and the fear he felt when Doyle was on the phone was palpable. He thought it was imperative to bring Father Sullivan to the hospital not only for Tennessee but also for the healing of the whole Doyle family. But because his father thought him foolish, he acted before anyone could catch him (running again when he saw that cab.) You could feel his anguish after negotiating Father Sullivan into the cab and as they navigated those treacherous roads.

I was saddened to learn that the last time Father Sullivan had seen most of the Doyles was at Natalie’s funeral. And this is a subject that still stuns the entire family into silence. It seems that incident not only broke Sullivan and ruined Doyle’s career, it also broke the family itself—that’s why they’ve avoided being together. Teddy had been the only constant in Father Sullivan’s life, and the rest of the family was shocked to see this once-strong man’s deterioration.

But we also come to learn why Father Sullivan is so necessary to this story. He becomes the bridge that connects Tennessee to the Doyle family in a less creepy way. This time she is not the woman in the shadows who follows and watches. Instead, she is the confidant and helper whom Father Sullivan came to depend upon so much. He also served as her confidant. He knew all her hopes and dreams and was disappointed when she disappeared. But in those moments Tip finally saw himself and his brother in Tennessee. She was no longer “that woman.”

Oh, and with one touch we learn about Father Sullivan’s gift (or lack thereof). He never believed in it before, but in that instant he knew that healing was not an option for Tennessee. Patchett’s description of how cold she was made me think he could feel her life essence draining from her body. That revelation causes his own health crisis, and he is helpless in changing the course of events. But it broke my heart when he was able to convey this simple direction to Teddy: Run.

Okay, there was a lot going on in these two chapters. Here are some things I’d like to get your thoughts on:

• Do you think that Tip was stubborn, rebellious, or just directed?
• Why do you think Tennessee disappeared from Regina Cleri? Did she know that Father Sullivan was related to the Doyles?
• Why was everyone avoiding Father Sullivan?
• Do you think Tennessee’s fate is sealed because she is considered poor and uninsured?
• What do you think of the different ways Tip and Teddy handled Tennessee and Kenya entering their lives?
• Was Father Sullivan able to heal the Doyle family by bringing them all together?

For our next post, we’ll concentrate on Chapter 11 and The Aftermath, so please don’t leak anything here (I know it’s hard). Plus, we may have one more post after that, featuring a special surprise. Stay tuned. Don’t forget to send me any questions/subjects you’d like to have covered at simplystated@realsimple.com.

—Corynne Corbett

Sometimes the people billed as the stars of a movie—or a book, in this case—are not nearly as interesting as the supporting players. Ann Patchett has done a terrific job of developing compelling back-stories for Sullivan, Tennessee, and, by extension, Kenya. Right now, I can’t get over how all of their actions have shifted both perceptions and reality. With the information revealed in these chapters, the proverbial plot not only thickens, it is turned inside out.

So let’s start with the confessions. It is probably no surprise to any of us that Father Sullivan was Teddy’s confessor. And in that short visit, Teddy revealed his vulnerability, anxiety, and fear in finding these new family members. But I also think this attempt to get his great-uncle to see Tennessee in person was his secret hope that the elder Sullivan might bring some of his miraculous “healing” to the situation (as well as to the woman who claimed to have given birth to him). I find this especially interesting because it is in contrast to Teddy’s daily ritual of shooing away all those hopefuls who stand in line outside Father Sullivan’s room waiting to be healed.

Okay, but the unexpected confession comes from Sullivan. Wasn’t it fascinating that we learn what sent him down that slippery slope into such irresponsible (and often criminal) behavior through a conversation he has with Tennessee?  We find out about his unethical behavior first when he said, “I stole.”  But the truth all comes tumbling out when she asks, “Why did you leave Boston?”

We find out that it is the ramifications of keeping this secret that has set Sullivan on this course. (It isn’t an excuse per se but at the very least a compelling reason.)  But Sullivan’s accident and the decision Doyle made to lie about Natalie’s role in it destroyed them both with a boomerang effect. Sullivan felt tremendous guilt associated with the story and also was trapped in a lie of his father’s making. Perhaps his subsequent behavior is a way to punish his father. And Doyle lost because although no one disputed the lie they all recognized it as such. As a result, Doyle becomes the “ex-mayor” of Boston.

But the mother of all secrets comes from Tennessee (if we can call her that).  I was reading this chapter when I was getting my hair done and gasped out loud when the two Tennessees start having a conversation. That twist came out of nowhere and again boomerangs into Kenya’s world in a big way. As a result, Kenya has been unknowingly living a lie as her life. As for her connection to Teddy and Tip, it is not what she believes. (Sullivan pointing out a resemblance was nothing more than a red herring.) But this imaginary conversation also explained why present-day Tennessee and Kenya were at the Jesse Jackson speech in the first place. It wasn’t always about following her children; this was a self-improvement, quest for education remnant from her former life.

It is clear that some of these secrets may not stay buried. I can’t wait to read what happens next.

So let’s start with a few questions:

1. What did you think of the Doyles’ reaction when they learned that Kenya and Tennessee lived right in their shadow?
2. Do you understand Tennessee’s reasons for giving Tip to the Doyles after raising him for over a year?
3. What impact do you think invisibility in almost all aspects has had on Tennessee?
4. Is Father Sullivan’s gift as a “healer” important to the story?
5. Do you have a confessor in your life, someone whom you can tell anything? If so, who?
6. Have secrets and lies impacted your own life?

Everyone please remember that we are discussing the book only through Chapter 8 in this post. If you have read ahead, please don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us. I promise there will be time in the next two weeks to get to all the other details. In fact, if you do have questions or topics you think should be covered in the next two weeks, e-mail me at: simplystated@realsimple.com. Be sure to put “More About Run” in your subject line.

--Corynne Corbett

Kristin Appenbrink, Real Simple’s assistant editor and a Home & Organizing blogger, will be leading the book club discussion in November.  Click here to help choose the book that everyone will be reading.  Cast your vote by October 29!

Heirlooms, Honor, Expectation, and The Accident

I was smitten with this story from the first page. I was immediately struck by how family traditions loomed large for Bernadette Doyle (and that reverence was adopted by some of her family). I can relate because I come from a family that has quite a few traditions of its own, and just like the story of how the Virgin Mary became a part of the Sullivan household—and then found a place of importance in the Doyles’—the stories are just as important as the event or even the heirloom itself. Bernard Doyle was really bold to deny Bernadette’s sister their legacy. In his opinion it now belonged to his young boys (adopted or not) and would no longer be passed along to the female relative who most resembled the statue. So Tip and Teddy got to pray to it every night as children and years later it is still in the room that Teddy sleeps in. Then, after the accident, Kenya also makes her acquaintance with the Virgin Mary so it still has some meaning.

Along with their mother’s heirloom, Tip and Teddy also have to grapple with Bernard’s lofty expectations that one of them will be president. By the time we meet them as adults, we learn that each has found his own way to handle their father’s dream for them. Teddy has wrapped himself in Sullivan family history and by extension God through his great-uncle, Father Sullivan. Tip, who is much smarter and also more emotionally distant, is hiding himself in a lab full of fish. (The fact that he could use Jesse Jackson’s speech as a metronome to study was also quite fascinating.) Clearly, politics aren’t important to these sons of a former mayor, but they do love and respect their “Da” so they drag themselves to the lecture. I know how it is to want to keep the peace with a parent and have found myself in strange places as a result, too. Tip’s pseudo act of rebellion against his father’s expectation leads to the accident. But Tennessee just happens to be there to save him.

Well, we can’t say that she happens to be there since she has been keeping track of Tip and Teddy for as long as Kenya remembers. Bernard never noticed her (or her daughter) and neither did these two young African American men until she acted in this honorable way. The way that their connection is revealed through Kenya’s thoughts also makes it less obvious. And now that the cat is out of the bag, Kenya starts to reveal just how much she and her mother have been around the Doyle family.

The story could have been compelling even if Tennessee wasn’t related to Tip and Teddy. But now the layers of complexity have been created. And that’s before she has even gotten to tell her story. Teddy seems more curious while Tip and Bernard are in denial. However, Sullivan can see how things are from the beginning. I can’t wait to find out what his story is.

So now that I’ve given you my thoughts thus far, I have a few questions for you:

Do you think the statue of the Virgin Mary will continue to be significant?

Is there an heirloom in your own family that holds similar importance?

Do you think that adopted children have the same rights to family heirlooms as blood relatives?

Let me know what you think about the book so far, as well as these particular questions. I am sure this will be a rich discussion.

You asked, Nora Ephron answered. The renowned essayist, screenwriter, director, and author of the Real Simple No-Obligation Book Club’s debut pick, I Feel Bad About My Neck, agreed to take a few questions from readers. Here, among other topics, she touches on politics, child-rearing, food, and—yes—necks.

My question isn't about the book—I would like to know what Nora's
childhood was like. Obviously humor and creativity abound endless with
all the Ephrons, so I'm curious to hear how their parents cultivated
that.
Posted by: renee | September 24, 2008 at 01:25 PM

My parents were screenwriters, they wrote a number of comedies, and there's no question that they were happy when you made them laugh. So of course all their daughters are funny, because that was one way to get their attention. My mother (I always tell this story) used to tell us repeatedly, “Everything is copy.” By which she meant, someday this thing, this tragedy you are undergoing, will be something you can write about. But she also meant, someday this thing that seems so tragic will be funny. And that was a great, great lesson.

My question for Nora is about how she juggled being a single parent with
her career? I thought of that often as I was reading the book and she
was mentioning her various divorces. I have a husband who actually helps
me a lot and I still feel like I can't juggle my career, my children,
and my home.
Posted by: Betsy | September 24, 2008 at 01:33 PM

Well, let me make this clear: It isn't easy. Anyone who says it is, is lying. I spent a lot of money on babysitters, so that helped, and also I was a writer, so I didn't go to an office all day long. I was pretty much at home until I directed my first movie, when my kids were 10 and 11; I thought they would be old enough to handle my being in Toronto, but the truth is they were totally shocked by it since (on some level) they thought of me as a stay-at-home mom.   

Have you ever solved the handbag dilemma? With more and more things "we
can't leave home without," I find myself carpetbagging, literally.
And is there a mind/bag connection where when you want something it
automatically migrates to the bottom?!
Posted by: Helen A. Dix | September 24, 2008 at 01:38 PM

No, I absolutely have not solved the problem. I still hate my purse, and because I've written about it, I hate it even more. (I mean, sometimes when you write about something, it makes the problem recede, but not in this case.) I try so hard to reform myself and to clean it out and to put the cell phone in the same compartment every time I use it, but I fail miserably.   

I love your writing style. Did it take years to develop or did you hit
on it early on in your career?
Posted by: Chris H | September 24, 2008 at 02:22 PM

It took me years before I could write in my voice, which I think is what you're talking about. Some people are born able to do this; I wasn't. It took a lot of work and the confidence of a certain amount of years on the planet before I could write a first-person essay.   

For about 25 years I have wanted a haircut/style that I could wash with
a bar of soap and dry with a towel. And, now, at age 58, I caught myself
seriously looking at cotton sack dresses in the hippy stores. I feel
certain I am dangerously close to that haircut. Am I done for? Or is
there life after vanity?
Posted by: Patricia Ferguson | September 24, 2008 at 04:16 PM

Yes, you are done for. Get a grip on yourself. You are probably too old for that haircut, and if you're not careful you will start wearing sweatpants all day.

Nora,
I came away after reading your book feeling that your passion and
survival is your sense of humor. It feels to me that you use this
wonderful gift to relate to all women. When did you know that this was
your gift?
Posted by: Vonnie Mourfield | September 24, 2008 at 04:30 PM

I don't think I knew it until I'd been writing for a few years. Someone said to me that something I'd written had made them laugh out loud, and I remember being absolutely thrilled. I do think that humor is a saving grace, and I should admit that I'm impatient with people who don't have a gift for it. (I'm not talking about writing; I'm talking about life.) I know women who are still stuck in their divorces, still complaining about the ex-husbands, etc., and I just want to shake them because they haven't turned their marriages into the comedy routines that will save them from self-pity. Everyone's ex-husband is potential for comedy.

After reading I Feel Bad About My Neck, which I loved and passed on to
all the women in my life that I love, I found a book of your essays
called Crazy Salad. I have found your essays regarding the women's
movement of the early 1970s fascinating, considering what has happened
in our recent election process. I was wondering your thoughts on women
attacking both Senator Clinton and Governor Palin. Both are obviously strong
women and leaders but (unlike men) are being judged (by other women) for
their family and marital lives. Do you think it is possible for women to
ever unite, instead of bringing each other down?
Posted by: Brandi Willis | September 24, 2008 at 04:42 PM

Oh, you have asked me something that is driving me nuts. It absolutely must be possible to attack Hillary Clinton and ESPECIALLY Sarah Palin (who stands for everything women like me abhor) without being accused of being anti-women. I could go on, on this subject, for weeks. I don't think it's any more necessary for women to unite than it is for men to unite.

My question for Nora:
(As a younger woman) What would be your best advice about coping with
the inevitable... getting older? In other words, should I even worry
about my neck, my purse, maintenance etc.?
Posted by: Jessica Castillo | September 24, 2008 at 05:20 PM

Well, if you are a far different person from me, you won't worry about any of these things. But I am not that person. At all. But there's no way I can tell you what you should do, because there's really no “should” here. I have friends who have had plastic surgery and friends who are against it, and I like them all. It's a completely personal thing, and of course, some people are way luckier than others in terms of the aging process. I'm speaking here not just of vanity but also health. But by the way, there's no real point in worrying about your neck until it starts to go; then there will be plenty of time to think about it.

Nora: The chapter from the book that I could most identify with was “On
Rapture.” Too many times to count, I have found myself getting fully
engulfed with the characters or story lines that I just don't want the
book to end. Wondering if you've recently found a book that you lost
yourself in?
Posted by: Sharon S | September 24, 2008 at 07:09 PM

I just adored a biography of Marie Antoinette by Stefan Zweig. It was written in the l930s, and it reads like a divine piece of chocolate candy. You will love it.

Being a cookbook/food lit addict, I thoroughly enjoyed your section on
how different recipes and approaches to cooking and entertaining played
a role in the different phases of your life. (I was lucky enough to
track down a copy of the Chamberlains’ Flavors of France from the
library, and it is now sitting on my kitchen table.) What is your current
passion or fascination?
Posted by: Janelle | September 24, 2008 at 07:25 PM

I still love to cook, and I'm afraid that I'm more obsessed than ever with food. I could talk about it for hours, and I do sometimes.   

I just wanted to let you know that I have a hard time wearing
turtlenecks with all my hot flashes. How do you get around this problem
when you're trying to hide your neck?
Posted by: Ruth Boncorddo | September 24, 2008 at 09:23 PM

Yes: This is one of the worst things about summer—too hot for turtlenecks. Of course, you could summer in Australia and then you'd have 12 months of turtleneck weather.    Anyway, there is a solution: scarves, which look good in all 12 months and now are so light and lovely that they don't even make you warm.

Nora, what are you working on now? When will we see/read it? Thanks for
your honesty.
Posted by: Chris | September 24, 2008 at 11:01 PM

I'm just finishing a movie called Julie & Julia. It's a true story about two women: Julie Powell, a young woman who decided to cook every single recipe in the Julia Child cookbook; and Julia Child, who of course changed the world. It's about love and food and marriage and it stars Meryl Streep and Amy Adams and I had the most wonderful time making it. It will be out in 2009, in the spring or summer.

Hi Nora: You rock for taking part in our book club. Anyhow, in your
essay “What I Wish I'd Known,” you mentioned that anything we think is
wrong with our bodies at 35 we will be nostalgic for at 45. Being 35,
that sage advice brought the biggest smile to my face. Now, when I'm
about to complain about this wrinkle or those less than firm areas on my
thighs, I stop myself and think, hey, this is as young as I'll ever be!
Enjoy it. At 55 did you find yourself "taking inventory" again and
looking back at 45 with nostalgia? Then again, why, as women, do we feel
we should ever have to take inventory on our body's physical appearance?
In the end, I just can't believe it's worth the worry.
Posted by: Michelle | September 26, 2008 at 01:44 PM

At 45, at 55, at 65. But long sleeves help.   

Nora, I just loved your book. You have the perfect way of saying just
what I want to say. I have loved your style for years.
You still look wonderful for your or any age. You go, lady.
Posted by: Jackie Mattoni | September 25, 2008 at 05:13 PM

Thanks, Jackie. Thanks, everyone.

This was one of those books that I didn’t want to end.  Not in the way that Nora herself discusses in “On Rapture”--I have experienced that, for sure, most recently with sad books (I’m thinking of What is the What and A Fine Balance—two killers) although I’m not sure what that says about me and my emotional state.  But this is one of those books I didn’t want to end in the way I don’t want a wonderful “Shouts and Murmurs” piece in The New Yorker to end, or a column by Gail Collins, my new hero, on the op-ed page of The New York Times.  There has been some criticism from a few quarters about our choice of this book, that it’s not “deep” enough, etc.  To that I say pshaw.  There is depth beneath the whole thing if you look hard enough, and it hits you square in the stomach in the final piece, “Considering the Alternative.”  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First, a couple of thoughts on “What I Wish I’d Known.”  I could not agree more with the following:

--”You can’t be friends with people who call after 11 p.m.”
        *I would amend this to 9:45 p.m.

--”Anything you think is wrong with your body at the age of thirty-five you will be nostalgic for at the age of forty-five.”
        *To this I would add:  anything you hated about your body before you became pregnant is suddenly completely fine after you have the baby and you are, sort of, back to your old self

--”There’s no point in making piecrust from scratch.”
        *certainly not as long as Whole Foods exists

--”The reason you’re waking up in the middle of the night is the second glass of wine.”
        *Eureka!  Or it’s the first glass of wine that you have filled nearly to the top, only later to discover that by nearly all measurements your wineglasses are big enough technically to hold two glasses.  There is a whole explanation in the November issue of Real Simple about why drinking too much wakes you up in the middle of the night, but you’re just going to have to read the issue to get it.

The sort of thoughts in the list in this chapter are not necessarily “deep,” friends, but they are the sort of thoughts that make you realize this:  Nora Ephron understands me.  Of course she doesn’t know you and probably never will, but she understands the kind of woman you are because she is that kind of woman too.  Because on a day to day basis we are all thinking the same 40 or 50 thoughts, most of them revolving around food and relationships and finding pants that fit.  It’s just the way we are wired.  Of course there are variations that you can attribute to life situations or politics or the stock market or any number of things, but I think the reason so many women have connected with this book is that most of us are fundamentally the same.  You can find that liberating or you can find it confining but there it is.

And thinking that Nora Eprhon understands you is what allows you to go with her into a chapter like “Considering the Alternative,” which is just mostly sad and which I couldn’t finish reading on the train because I started to cry.  It reminded me of a day last spring, just after my birthday, when there had been a terrible storm in the New York City area and our basement had filled with six inches of water.  I had a 3-week-old baby and I just felt very tired and sad and sorry for myself for a couple of days.  Then my parents came to visit and when I announced at breakfast to the baby and no one in particular, “Today is going to be a GOOD day,” my parents replied in unision, “Every day is a good day.”  Because when you are nearly 70 years old—as they are--you know that in a way that you don’t when you are 43 (as I was); as Nora says, consider the alternative.  At the time my mother’s best friend was dying of leukemia and I think knowing that every day that you wake up is a good one was top of mind for both of my parents.  Those words echo in my head all the time, and are a useful reality check when I am feeling sorry for myself, even if I don’t have six inches of water in the basement.

So I suppose my final question to you, my fellow readers, is this:  if you loved the book, did you love the sad as well as the funny?  And does Nora Ephron understand you?

-Kristin van Ogtrop

Hi, everyone:

I'm Corynne Corbett, the Executive Editor, here at Real Simple and I am so excited about leading the discussion for this month’s No Obligation Book Club. I developed my love affair with reading from my mother. She always had a stack of books next to her bed fresh from the public library. She preferred a good book (or crossword puzzle) to television and spent the free time she had lost in those stories. But in the interest of full disclosure I will admit that I spend way too much time watching television and like it as much as reading.

In spite of my bad TV watching habits, I started to appreciate my ability to escape into the world of a compelling story quite helpful after I got my first job and had to commute 90 minutes each way. I easily devoured one to two books every week. But I have to tell you that once I cross over into the land created by an accomplished storyteller, it is hard for me to break away from it. I become invested in the characters and their issues and want to see what happens next. That has resulted in more reading into the wee hours (with sporadic dozing) than I want to admit. If I am more than halfway through the book, I will keep making that “one more chapter and I’ll stop” promise to myself until I reach the end.  And this is just as likely to happen with a best-selling novel as it is with a quick read like one of Janet Evanovich’s series.

So how did we get to Run?  It took me a few weeks. I had such a long list of possibilities that I had to whittle away at it until I got it down to four. (Some of the rejects became my vacation reads). I wanted them all to be authors I admire, however, the books had to be unfamiliar. To refresh your memory the other choices were: Brother I’m Dying, by Edwidge Danticat; The Book of Other People, edited by Zadie Smith; and The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho.  I also wanted my choices to have some cultural diversity but ultimately reflect that at our core we share some important similarities including our humanity, our capacity to love and our investment in family.

I became a fan of Ann Patchett’s a number of years ago when I read The Magician’s Assistant. I especially like the way she creates characters that have depth and weaves them into a compelling story that you want to watch unfold. So when I started my research for books, I included her on my list. As I edited the list down, this was one of the only choices that became a must-include. I’m glad you chose it.

Well, I just got my copy of Run this weekend and I haven’t even cracked it open yet. I wanted to wait until we officially start October. I am looking forward to spending some time with Bernadette and Bernard Doyle, as well as learning what family means to them and those who inhabit their world.  I look forward to our journey together and can’t wait to get your thoughts on the book.

Run, Ann Patchett’s novel of familial politics. On Wednesday, October 1, Real Simple Executive Editor and Life & Soul blogger Corynne Corbett will introduce herself and the book; then, in the coming weeks, she’ll post her thoughts about Run. Remember, no deadlines, no pressure: Start the book when you’d like to, and read it at your own pace.

A funny thing happened on the way to this blog post:  I met Nora Ephron.  Two weeks ago I was at a reception for the new president of Barnard College, and was heading out the door when who should walk in but Nora herself.  Which felt both weird and inevitable (to me), because of course I’ve spent the last two weeks thinking about her and her writing.  Without giving myself time to lose my nerve, I asked the woman I was talking to to introduce us.  I explained to Nora that we were all reading I Feel Bad About My Neck, how her book won the voting (even beating Valley of the Dolls!), that we have a new book club on realsimple.com, blah blah blah.  I would be shocked to learn that she actually understood a word of what I was saying because I was speed talking and all over the place, but she was charming and gracious and listened patiently as I blathered on. 

The next day when my head had cleared a bit I remembered that I am on my town’s library board with a woman who works at the agency that represents Nora Ephron.  I called the agent and gave her my pitch:  would Nora consider answering a few questions from members of our book club?  As you all know, I Feel Bad About My Neck was first published in 2006, and if I were Nora Ephron I’d probably be sick of answering questions about the book already.  So I asked with fingers crossed and expectations low.

And...Nora is now on board to address a few questions.  So here’s the deal:  please post your questions as comments here, I’ll email them to her, and I’ll post her answers within the next couple of weeks.

(As for the rest of I Feel Bad About My Neck, I’ll put up another post within the next few days.  Sorry for the delay, but this seemed too great to pass up.)

So, questions for Nora Ephron!  I’ll start us off:  is there an age at which a woman just stops caring about her neck, and everything else that is suffering from the forces of gravity?