The widow's guide to sex and dating
There, those are all the nice things I have to say. This doesn't make her I really enjoy Carole on "The Real Housewives of NYC" and I absolutely loved her memoir. It made me wish I had something next to me to barf into when I was finished. A completely unsympathetic character's husband dies. She spends 100 pages not really caring about his death and deciding she didn't really love him for no real reason at all.There, those are all the nice things I have to say. This doesn't make her relatable or human or flawed, it just makes her supremely selfish and unlikeable.This is not a continuation of the author's original memoir - no one person should have more than one memoir's worth of heartbreak.
Her husband, Charlie, is a renowned sexologist and writer.What that leaves us with is mostly the heroine's interior monologue, which is perfectly fine if you have a well crafted character with interesting things to say. A flimsy device on which to hang flimsy thoughts, and no matter how nicely Radziwill expresses those thoughts, their absolute lack of substance cannot be escaped.(the other characters are similarly insubstantial -- I actually put down the book and thought "those characters did not exist," not because they are fictional, but because there was absolutely nothing to them).Claire’s life with Charlie is an always interesting if not deeply devoted one, until Charlie is struck dead one day on the sidewalk by a falling sculpture ... Once a promising young writer, Claire had buried her ambitions to make room for Charlie’s. Over the course of a year, she sees a shrink (or two), visits an oracle, hires a "botanomanist," enjoys an erotic interlude (or ten), eats too little, drinks too much, dates a hockey player, dates a billionaire, dates an actor (not any actor either, but the handsome movie star every woman in the world fantasizes about dating).As she grieves for Charlie and searches for herself, she comes to realize that she has an opportunity to find something bigger than she had before—maybe even, possibly, love.