By Holly Chamberlin
From bestselling writer Holly Chamberlin comes a wise, smart novel approximately love, marriage, and becoming up--not unavoidably in that order…
Anna Traulsen, of Anna's events, an elite Boston occasion making plans corporation, hasn't ever been impetuous. At thirty-seven, she's by no means had a one-night stand, filled for an examination, or made an extravagant buy. Now she's engaged and getting ready for an get together of her personal. yet one other occasion simply may trump her marriage ceremony, person who she and her destiny husband were not watching for: Anna is pregnant.
From her costume becoming to the timing of the honeymoon, for Anna, one query fast ends up in another--about paintings, the future--and why she unearths herself pondering a lot approximately her colleague, Jack, a snarled, gifted artist who's the polar contrary of her comfortingly traditional fiancé.
As Anna searches for solutions between her neighbors, she may possibly eventually notice there is just one position she'll locate the reality: in her personal heart--and that it doesn't matter what she makes a decision, she'll by no means be the same…
Praise for the novels of Holly Chamberlin
"A dramatic and relocating portrait of a number of generations of a kinfolk and every person's position inside it." --Booklist on The relatives seashore House
"Nostalgia over real-life friendships misplaced and regained pulls readers into the story."
--USA this present day on Summer Friends
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Extra resources for Babyland
Sample text
Nobody teaches you all the job skills you need in Home Economics, but over enough time, you pick them up. In the church district where I grew up, they teach you the way to make candles drip less is soak them in strong salt water. Store candles in the freezer until ready to use. That's their kind of household hint. Light candles with a strand of raw spaghetti. Sixteen years I've been cleaning for people in their homes, and never has anybody asked me to walk around with a piece of spaghetti on fire in my hand.
The flower in front of me is Specimen 237, a postwar rayon chrysanthemum, postwar because there wasn't silk enough or rayon or wire enough to make flowers during World War Two. Wartime flowers are crepe paper or rice paper, and even in the constant dry fifty degrees of the Columbia Memorial Mausoleum, these flowers have all crumbled to dust. In front of me is Crypt Number 678, Trevor Hollis, age twenty-four, survived by his mother and father and his sister. Much Beloved. Loving Son. In Loving Remembrance.
They sniff and choke and tell me what I ask for in every little detail. It's so perfect some nights to hear them in the dark. The girl will just trust me. The phone in my one hand, I can imagine my other hand is her. It's not that I want to get married. I admire guys who can commit to a tattoo. After the newspaper got the phone number right, the calls started to peter out. The loads of people who called me at first, they were all dead or pissed off at me. No new people were calling. They wouldn't hire me at McDonald's, so I made a bunch of big sticky labels.
Babyland by Holly Chamberlin
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