Well I raced through Trust Exercise on the pretext that it's a holiday weekend and I'm burned out so I'm going to swoon abed with kittens and a book. So...yeah. New York Magazine describes it as a dark, evocative MeToo puzzle box while Book Riot is like twisty turny fun! Did we all read the same book?

I agree with you in that it's nearly impossible to talk about without giant neon spoiler alerts but as soon as Chekhov's gun was introduced I knew that a [redacted] shooting off in act one would result in the consequences walking onstage in act three. I'm still left with questions and I'm definitely going to read this one over, at the expense of the new Lorrie Moore, probably; sigh.

I'm glad you pointed out the distancing that both Susan Choi and Doris Lessing pulled off because I'm not sure I would have called it that, exactly, even though it's something I'm trying to do. As a woman navigating middle age with not a lot of guidance, I suspect it's very common to look at your ingenue self as a completely alien person.

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I have not read Ishiguro either. Now that Christine has confessed, I will too. I have heard nothing but incredible things and I think that the format you are proposing would be the perfect way for me get a guided introduction.

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"...at which point I looked in the mirror and realized I’d gone full two-A.M. kitchen-goblin here over the last month, with little else to my credit than deep shame and a shirtfront full of cheap brand-name literary salsa."

Now that is what I'm talking about with literary conversation that doesn't crawl up its own asshole. It probably doesn't even WIPE its own asshole amirite

I've just checked out Trust Exercise and Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. Trust Exercise I'm excited about because it sounds like what maybe I originally wanted to try and do with this book when it was in its ca. 2005 draft but I wasn't sophisticated enough to pull off (I'm still not; if anything I'm way less sophisticated). Anyway no one is having sex in my book because it's 1995 and the weird, nervous teenage characters are petrified of AIDS.

I've never read Ishiguro so I'll try to remember to bother you about this before it's 2027.

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