On my way back to Austin from my summer adventures, I read the novel One Day by David Nicholls. I read it in pretty much one giant gulp.
While I had toyed with the idea of buying the book a number of times--at both the airport and at Target--I didn’t do it until a European dude recommended it to me. Later, when I told him I was reading it, he said that he hoped I loved it.
Which is a very unusual thing for a straight man to say, or, at least, it would be an odd thing for a straight American man to say.
In America, One Day would be termed “chick lit.” It’s in the pink ghetto of writing marketed to women, mostly because it deals with the emotional lives of people. In America, mass-market literature about feelings is pretty much the providence of women. I don’t generally see straight dudes reading books where the characters have feelings, but that could be because I live in the machismo-poisoned land of Texas.
If you've missed picking up the book, the premise is that Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley kind of hook up in 1988 at the end of their studies in Edinburgh. The book follows their friendship over the next 20 years, dropping in on both of them each July 15th, which happens to be St. Swithin’s Day. Sometimes there are big changes from year to year in each of their lives, sometimes there aren't.
If you've missed picking up the book, the premise is that Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley kind of hook up in 1988 at the end of their studies in Edinburgh. The book follows their friendship over the next 20 years, dropping in on both of them each July 15th, which happens to be St. Swithin’s Day. Sometimes there are big changes from year to year in each of their lives, sometimes there aren't.
I really enjoyed One Day, although, in some ways, it was strange reliving tidbits of the 80’s. (In 1988, as Dexter rags on “that Tracy Chapman tape” I knew exactly how annoying and overplayed it was at the time!)
