For
fans of Helen Fielding’s Bridget
Jones’s Diary and
Allison Pearson’s I
Don’t Know How She Does It
comes an irresistible novel of a woman losing herself . . . and
finding herself again . . . in the middle of her life.
Maybe
it was those extra five pounds I’d gained. Maybe it was because I
was about to turn the same age my mother was when I lost her. Maybe
it was because after almost twenty years of marriage my husband and I
seemed to be running out of things to say to each other.
But
when the anonymous online study called “Marriage in the 21st
Century” showed up in my inbox, I had no idea how profoundly it
would change my life. It wasn’t long before I was assigned both a
pseudonym (Wife 22) and a caseworker (Researcher 101).
And,
just like that, I found myself answering questions.
7.
Sometimes I tell him he’s snoring when he’s not snoring so he’ll
sleep in the guest room and I can have the bed all to myself.
61.
Chet Baker on the tape player. He was cutting peppers for the salad.
I looked at those hands and thought, I am going to have this man’s
children.
67. To not want what you don’t have. What you can’t
have. What you shouldn’t have.
32. That if we weren’t
careful, it was possible to forget one another.
Before the
study, my life was an endless blur of school lunches and doctor’s
appointments, family dinners, budgets, and trying to discern the
fastest-moving line at the grocery store. I was Alice Buckle: spouse
of William and mother to Zoe and Peter, drama teacher and Facebook
chatter, downloader of memories and Googler of solutions.
But
these days, I’m also Wife 22. And somehow, my anonymous
correspondence with Researcher 101 has taken an unexpectedly personal
turn. Soon, I’ll have to make a decision—one that will affect my
family, my marriage, my whole life. But at the moment, I’m too busy
answering questions.
As it turns out, confession can be a
very powerful aphrodisiac.