A somewhat predictable but strangely alluring tale of post-Covid love.
In Murray’s novella, a marketing consultant finds that post-pandemic New York City’s online dating scene is much more than he bargained for—and that it could cost him dearly.
As the story opens, it’s 2021, and 50-year-old Matthew is on his very first date after the start of the Covid-19 lockdown. His companion, Samantha, suddenly grabs his hands and squeezes tight: “What’s wrong?” she asks. “You don’t like me touching you?” Things are moving a little too quickly for the masked Matthew, and he immediately recoils from the contact. “Take off your mask and kiss me on the lips,” a thoroughly disgruntled Samantha presses further; before long, she tells him that she’s unvaccinated. Matthew begs off, and the date is effectively over. “Listen Matthew, you’re a handsome guy, but you’re not my type,” Samantha announces. “I’m sure of it.” Matthew lives a sedate and sober existence, and he hasn’t had a long-term relationship in years; he’s in a vulnerable spot when another date, Stacy, upends his life. She’s an unemployed 45-year-old woman with a trust fund, too much time on her hands, and a curiously unexplored fixation on her often-married father. Still, the very attractive Stacy easily insinuates herself into Matthew’s psyche, despite their obvious lack of chemistry from the start. She’s upfront about her struggles with depression, which Matthew appreciates, but he continually—and perplexingly—ignores a red flag: her avowed aversion to healthy relationships. Indeed, her litany of troubles with old boyfriends doesn’t seem to concern Matthew at all; he’s more than willing, for instance, to accompany Stacy on a late-night stroll around Riverside Park, immediately after her former beau, a troubled saxophone player named Hunter, accosts them in a bar.
None of this matters very much, though, because Murray manages to build effective tension and drama through the use of economical and direct dialogue. Each exchange between Stacy and Matthew ends with an anticipation of danger, consistently propelling the story forward. Like a savvy musician who knows the value of not playing too much, the author generates a palpable sense of impending calamity with the notes he elects to leave out, as when Matthew suggests to Stacy in Riverside Park that they should go back to her apartment: “Stacy kissed me again. ‘No. Not yet. Not yet. Let’s try to enjoy this moment fully.’” However, if there’s one area where Murray falters, it’s in his crafting of a decidedly less-than-bombastic climax. The trajectory of Matthew’s journey with Stacy is easy to predict, and its endpoint is ultimately unsurprising, when all is said and done. However, this may not be the best way to evaluate Murray’s adventure. After all, no piece of music can be rightly evaluated on its conclusion alone; rather, one must take into account the experience of listening to it and the feelings that it evokes. The author’s lean story structure hits enough intriguing notes to keep readers’ attention, even if they can probably predict how the final stanza will sound.
A somewhat predictable but strangely alluring tale of post-Covid love.Pub Date: Sept. 11, 2022
ISBN: 9798352202890
Page Count: 100
Publisher: Self
Review Posted Online: Aug. 26, 2024
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
An affecting portrait of a prickly woman.
A lifetime’s worth of letters combine to portray a singular character.
Sybil Van Antwerp, a cantankerous but exceedingly well-mannered septuagenarian, is the titular correspondent in Evans’ debut novel. Sybil has retired from a beloved job as chief clerk to a judge with whom she had previously been in private legal practice. She is the divorced mother of two living adult children and one who died when he was 8. She is a reader of novels, a gardener, and a keen observer of human nature. But the most distinguishing thing about Sybil is her lifelong practice of letter writing. As advancing vision problems threaten Sybil’s carefully constructed way of life—in which letters take the place of personal contact and engagement—she must reckon with unaddressed issues from her past that threaten the house of cards (letters, really) she has built around herself. Sybil’s relationships are gradually revealed in the series of letters sent to and received from, among others, her brother, sister-in-law, children, former work associates, and, intriguingly, literary icons including Joan Didion and Larry McMurtry. Perhaps most affecting is the series of missives Sybil writes but never mails to a shadowy figure from her past. Thoughtful musings on the value and immortal quality of letters and the written word populate one of Sybil’s notes to a young correspondent while other messages are laugh-out-loud funny, tinged with her characteristic blunt tartness. Evans has created a brusque and quirky yet endearing main character with no shortage of opinions and advice for others but who fails to excavate the knotty difficulties of her own life. As Sybil grows into a delayed self-awareness, her letters serve as a chronicle of fitful growth.
An affecting portrait of a prickly woman.Pub Date: May 6, 2025
ISBN: 9780593798430
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: Feb. 15, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2025
A debut novel with bright spots, but unbalanced and lacking in finesse.
A high school senior pursues an affair with her teacher.
Seventeen-year-old Waldo, the narrator of McCurdy’s fiction debut, lives in Anchorage, Alaska, with her mother, though she’s long been the parent in their relationship. She heats her own frozen meals and pays the bills on time while her mom chases man after man and makes well-meaning promises she never keeps. Waldo blows her Victoria’s Secret wages on online shopping sprees and binges on junk food, inevitably crashing after the fleeting highs of her indulgences. Mr. Korgy, her creative writing teacher, has “thinning hair and nose pores”; he’s 40 years old and married with a child. Nevertheless—or possibly as a result?—Waldo’s attraction to him is “instant. So sudden it’s alarming. So palpable it’s confusing.” Mr. Korgy professes to want to keep their friendship aboveboard, but after a sexual encounter at the school’s winter formal that she initiates, an affair begins. Will this reckless pursuit be the one that actually satisfies Waldo, and is she as mature as she thinks she is? Waldo is a keen observer of people and provides sharp commentary on the punishing work of female beauty. Readers of McCurdy’s bestselling memoir, I’m Glad My Mom Died (2022), will surely be curious about the tumultuous mother-daughter relationship, and it is one of the novel’s highlights, full of realistic pity and anger and need. (“I want to scream at her. I want her to hug me.”) Unfortunately, the prose is often unwieldy and sometimes downright cringeworthy: When Waldo tells Mr. Korgy she loves him, “The words hang in the air in that constipated way they do when you know that you shouldn’t have said them.” Waldo frequently lists emotions and adjectives in triplicate, and events that could be significant aren’t sufficiently explored or given enough space to breathe before the novel races on to the next thing.
A debut novel with bright spots, but unbalanced and lacking in finesse.Pub Date: Jan. 20, 2026
ISBN: 9780593723739
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Nov. 22, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2026
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
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