Review by New York Times Review
HERE'S the thing about being a brand name: What people want most from you is a kind of comforting predictability. Variations on a theme, sure, but when we pop open a can of Coke, it had bloody well better taste like Coke. (Remember New Coke? No? There's a reason.) And so it is with Anna Quindlen, who's as close to a brand name as a writer can be. Her twinkling aphorisms, her gentle homespun humor, her mulling over what might be termed White People Problems: this is what her fans expect from her. And this is what she serves to them in generous portions in "Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake." Quindlen's latest collection of essays deals with crossing the Rubicon from late middle age to early old age. Each chapter muses on a different aspect of the way her life (and, by inference, ours) has changed as she moves from her 50s toward her 60s. With headings like "Faith," "Expectations" and "Mirror, Mirror," Quindlen leads us to examine what we already know - and makes us feel good for being so clever as to know it. News flash: Solitude can be wonderful. Our girlfriends are incredibly important to us. Society has an unacceptable view of women's bodies. Fear is the great enemy. Having stuff is not that important. Even though our butts have fallen, most of us would not want to be 20 again. Life is unpredictable - or, as Quindlen puts it, in lines that could easily be sewn into one of the samplers she loves: "I thought I had a handle on my future. But the future, it turns out, is not a tote bag." Huh. I've also heard that life is like a box of chocolates. But in any case, Quindlen's readers don't love her for giving them news. They love her for being the person they'd like to have a cup of coffee with. So would I. Just don't drown it in cream and sugar. Do I sound a little churlish? I suppose I am. I was with her through the '80s and early '90s, when Quindlen was one of the first, and certainly the best, to write about family and balance outside the confines of women's magazines. In her Pulitzer Prizewinning columns for The New York Times, she showed that domestic issues were worthy of serious examination, and she was a bold yet nuanced voice on topics ranging from spousal abuse to abortion. She can still be wryly funny, as when she tells us, in a chapter called "Push" - a perfect title for both having kids and today's helicopter parenting - that "keeping up with the Joneses turned into keeping up with the Joneses' kids." But today she seems much more interested in holding our hands than pulling our hands away from our eyes. "You're tike a cake when you're young," she says. "Rising takes patience, and heat." Does it? Really? Tell that to Mark Zuckerberg. Rising takes impatience, and the occasional ability to be as cold as dry ice. In fact, rising is more like - O.K., I don't know what it's like, but I sure as hell know it's not like a cake. AND therein lies the problem for those of us who have loved Quindlen but at this point are a bit exasperated: her verities, while deeply soothing, aren't always entirely believable. The underlying premise of "Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake" is that we change profoundly as we get older, and in all sorts of wonderful ways. We worry less about what others think of us. We're kinder, more thoughtful, wiser, easier on ourselves, more willing to stop and smell the roses. (Or, as I imagine Quindlen's house, the freshly baked cookies.) And of course there's some truth to this. Some. Five percent? Maybe 10? But in fact most of us (and by "us," I mean me) are more or less the same idiots we were when we were 25, with perhaps a few more useful limitations. After all, the average 80-year-old, if he wants to hit 81, might be well served by dialing it back with the hookers and blow. But, anyway, please don't try to convince me that the march toward the hereafter is like a skip down the Yellow Brick Road. Quindlen has a great line about how women now practice "the science of embalming disguised as grooming." Quite so, but I'll take Botox and cheerful fatalism over false promises. The first time I wrote for a women's magazine, the editor in chief gave me this piece of advice: "Whatever you write, just make sure there's a great big hug for readers at the end." "Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake" has hugs for us on nearly every page, and lots of women love them. But some of us are secretly thinking, "Anna, stop squeezing already." Judith Newman is the author of "You Make Me Feel Like an Unnatural Woman: Diary of a New (Older) Mother."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 3, 2012]
Review by Booklist Review
Suddenly sixty, Quindlen, a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist and best-selling novelist (Every Last One, 2010), finds herself looking back on her life. She's not so much wondering how she got where she is but, rather, considering how the choices she made and the chances she took along the way have prepared her for the road ahead. What even to call this next stage in a woman's life? Not elderly, certainly, yet definitely no longer young, this middle-aged morass can be hard to navigate. Friendships fade, fashions flummox, the body wimps out, and the mind has a mind of its own. One can either fight it or face it. In her own unmistakably reasonable way, Quindlen manages to do both, with grace and agility, wisdom and wit, sending out comforting affirmations while ardently confronting preconceived stereotypes and societal demands. Having endeared herself to generations of women, beginning with her eminently distinctive and intuitively perceptive Life in the 30s column, Quindlen now brings her considered and accepted voice of reflection and evaluation to the challenges and opportunities that await. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: After writing a string of immensely popular novels, trusted, high-profile Quindlen will delight her steadfast readers with this pithy, get-real memoir slated for an energetic, all-fronts promotion campaign.--Haggas, Carol Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A bestselling author and winner of the Pulitzer Prize, Anna Quindlen shares her thoughts on aging, family, marriage, and other slice-of-life topics in this reflective memoir. Although there's nothing startling or groundbreaking here, her wit and thoughtful insights on these universal issues will have listeners recognizing themselves and nodding their heads in agreement. As a narrator, Quindlen's performance is familiar and intimate: her voice brims over with warmth, wisdom, and self-deprecating humor, and she sound much like a friend who has stopped by for a visit and a cup of coffee. Fans of Quindlen and listeners in general will be more than glad to invite her in (via audiobook) to sit for a spell. A Random House hardcover. (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Continuing in the tradition of the New York Times column that won her a Pulitzer Prize, Quindlen offers her baby boomer feminist's perspective on domestic life, motherhood, women's relationships, religious faith, the challenges of aging gracefully in our culture, and more. Quindlen is an insightful, engaging writer, and this is sure to please her many fans. VERDICT The author's narration serves the highly personal subject matter well, giving the illusion of eavesdropping on a wise friend's observations on life. ["Before she published six best-selling novels and wrote her million-copy best seller, A Short Guide to the Happy Life, Quindlen attracted eager readers with her Times column 'Life in the 30s.' Now she's in her fifties and ready to talk about women's lives as a whole," read the review of the Random hc, LJ 5/15/12.-Ed.]-Julie Judkins, Univ. of Michigan, Ann Arbor (c) Copyright 2012. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A humorous, sage memoir from the Pulitzer winner and acclaimed novelist. Like having an older, wiser sister or favorite aunt over for a cup of tea, Quindlen's (Every Last One, 2010, etc.) latest book is full of the counsel and ruminations many of us wish we could learn young. The death of her mother from cancer when she was 19 had a profound effect on the author, instilling in her the certainty that "life was short, and therefore it made [her] both driven and joyful" and happy to have "the privilege of aging." In her sincere and amusing style, the author reflects on feminism, raising her children, marriage and menopause. She muses on the perception of youth and her own changing body image--one of the "greatest gifts [for women] of growing older is trusting your own sense of yourself." Having women friends, writes Quindlen, is important for women of all ages, for they are "what we have in addition to, or in lieu of, therapists. And when we reach a certain age, they may be who is left." More threads on which the author meditates in this purposeful book: childbirth, gender issues, the joy of solitude, the difference between being alone and being lonely, retirement and religion. For her, "one of the greatest glories of growing older is the willingness to ask why, and getting no good answer, deciding to follow my own inclinations and desires. Asking why is the way to wisdom." A graceful look at growing older from a wise and accomplished writer--sure to appeal to her many fans, women over 50 and readers of Nora Ephron and similar authors.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
