Catherine Newman's new book, Sandwich, came out last week, and you should probably read it. If you're a woman in the 45-55 age range, it will make you laugh until you weep with its devastatingly hilarious takes on the indignities of midlife. If you're married to a woman in that age range, it will make you say, "Weeeellllll, things could definitely be worse around here." If you are outside those age ranges, it will give you some insight into the goings-on inside the aging brains of your middle-aged loved ones.
It is uproariously funny. I was reading it in public over my lunchtime sandwich and I snort-laughed helplessly. I thought maybe I would just get a quick coffee and squeeze in another chapter (or two) before I went back to my office, and I laughed until I had actual tears running down my face right there in the coffeehouse.
It reminds me very much of her first novel, We All Want Impossible Things, which I blogged about in early 2023. It intertwines heartbreakingly sad parts with the laugh-so-hard-you-inhale-your-beverage parts in a way that I find memorable and effective. This one is more about marriage than the earlier book, and it combines the moments of "I don't know who I would be without you" and the moments of "I might kill you in your sleep" in a way that might -- just possibly -- resonate with some of the folks I know navigating marriage at midlife.
Although the main character's kids are grown, the book talks a lot about pregnancy and miscarriage and abortion. It does so in ways that left me pretty uncomfortable, but maybe that's the point. I am guessing that even if your views on abortion diverge from mine, parts of the book will make you squirm.
Across both books there are things that struck me as implausible, but not in a way that torpedoed my enjoyment of the book. (Although, just in case the magic of Google alerts ever brings this post to the author's attention: next time you're writing about early speech development, shoot me an email. I'll happily volunteer as your subject matter expert.) Mostly what I will remember is the distinctive voice: smart, aching, acerbic, riotously funny.
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