By Francesca Delbanco. I picked this little gem up at Chapters in the Bargain Books section. Which means it was a dud. It didn't move. I grabbed it because it was cheap ($4.99), and I needed some fiction. You can only read so many books about how the Arabs are going to kill us before you begin to cry out for some fluffy chick-lit.

The book is about Rosalie, a twenty-six year old wanna-be actor in New York, and her group of friends. Their lives are coming to that crucial point in the growing up process that involves friends going their seperate ways. I remember that point, and it comes to mind more sharply today because it is Heather's birthday. My Heather deserves her own post, so for now I will stick with the book.

At first I chewed through this book with typical chick-lit abandon. There was nothing to it, but the words flowed well. One's brain did not need to be plugged in and charged, the way it does for say, Tolstoy.

Until Rosalie met her friend's father... ok. Take away the icky factor of that relationship. Forget the squeaminess of your father banging your friend. Delbanco's description of the relationship was clear and calm. And accurate. When I read the line "But here is what I learned from my second stay in the climate-controlled splendor of the Pierre penthouse suite: unless you're vigilant, nakedness and intimacy can be damned hard to separate. And once someone has turned your body into hot molasses, look out." I woke up. I paid attention. And I love this book. It is written with far more insight than its young first-time author should have.

I'm glad I went bargain hunting.