LEAVING

Forty years after their breakup, lovers run into each other at intermission in the opera house, and nothing will ever be the same.

Warren Jennings and Sarah Watson dated in their youth, but between the miles separating their colleges, a silly but fatal misunderstanding, and a new face on the horizon, she chose to end the relationship. By the time they reconnect, he is long married, living near Boston, a successful architect. She is divorced, a grandmother, on her own in Westchester County. After they serendipitously meet at a performance of Tosca in New York City, the error of their separation is quickly evident and they begin an affair. To them, it feels less like adultery than a course correction, likely to lead to the greater happiness of all. But as Warren will one day explain to his wife, Janet, “In an opera, the tragedy involves passion and honor,” and so it is here, with passion and honor at odds, and the irrevocable responsibilities and emotions of parenthood complicating the situation in unforeseen ways. “They’re sort of at the heart of everything now,” says Sarah, speaking of her adult children. “…We’re marginal. At sixty.” “But that’s not how I feel,” Warren replies, his whole being rekindled by the force of this unexpected, ferocious emotion. Every character and relationship in the two families is beautifully drawn, in sentences that manage to be both spare and rich at once. Also in play is the power of art to give our lives shape and meaning: Tosca, Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Ramsay, and the paintings of the Bloomsbury Group add texture to the story. As the novel builds toward its operatic conclusion, Robinson’s profound, complex depiction of family relationships and responsibilities and the difficult choices they entail will resonate with readers in every phase of their own lives.

Elegantly structured and written, shimmering with feeling and truth. A triumph.