Page 51 of Blush
“How did you even get the compartment open?”
“I picked the lock with a mechanical pencil,” Sadie said, glancing at her.
Vivian glared in her direction.
Leah held up her hands. “Yes, I knew about it. Guilty as charged. But in my defense, I only read a few lines of the journal. In fact, we lost track of it. I only saw it once.”
“And that’s the last you will see of it; I have it now, safe from you savages,” Vivian said. Leah could tell from the relaxed set of her mouth that she wasn’t truly angry—just mildly annoyed.
“Gran, I’m sorry for going through your stuff. But the truth is I’m really interested in your thoughts on the books,” Sadie said.
“Whatever I thought of the books was a lifetime ago. It hardly matters.”
“Well, there’s just a lot of stuff in here that’s sketchy to me,” Sadie pressed. “All that violence against women...”
Leah leaned forward. “You’re readingChances, too?”
“Sort of. On my phone. I was curious about what had you so excited,” she said sheepishly. “It’s pretty bad.”
“Bad? The story is ambitious—Gino’s entire life,” Vivian said.
“I thought you said you didn’t remember what you thought,” Leah said.
“Well,” Vivian said, “I might have reread a page or two after you practically forced the book on me. Okay, maybe more than a page,” she added primly at Leah’s knowing look. “And the sweeping nature of it... it’s like that Donna Tartt novel. The one with the bird painting.”
“The Goldfinch? Gran, you’re comparingChancesto the Pulitzer Prize–winning novelThe Goldfinch?” Leah could practically see her high-minded daughter’s head exploding.
“I’m just saying, it’s epic in its own right.”
“It’slong, but I don’t know if I’d call itepic. And I have no empathy for Gino, and so much of the book is from his point of view,” Sadie said.
“He’s an antihero. But he means well,” Leah said. Except when his son was born, a year after his daughter, and he thought,A son was a direct extension of himself. A daughter could never be that.It was just a novel, but the words stung.
“I love the flashbacks to the 1920s and the 1970s. She really brings the drama of those eras to life,” Vivian said, abandoning all pretense of disinterest. “And as for violence against women... that’s a reflection of the world, my dear.”
“But I think this book glorifies it, in a way. Especially the sex scenes. A lot of it’s nonconsensual,” Sadie said.
“There is a lot of sex,” Vivian conceded. “I didn’t remember so much of it being nonconsensual. Or so graphic.”
Neither had Leah.
Ironically, now that she was apart from her husband, she found herself thinking about sex. Maybe even wanting sex. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was also now reading these books. Still, she was afraid that the minute she returned to the city, she’d go right back to forgetting all about it.
“The thing that strikes me about the sex scenes is that sometimes they don’t seem written by a woman,” Sadie said. “It’s more like female sexuality as written by a man’s fantasy. And all the gay characters are villains. Or at least devious. Did you talk about that at your book club?”
“I can’t recall it coming up for discussion. Readers weren’t as sensitive back in the day,” Vivian said.
“I don’t think it’s a matter of sensitivity.” Sadie crossed her arms. “It’s just common decency.”
“Okay, I think we can all agree the book wouldn’t be written that way today,” Leah said to defuse the tension.Talk about a generation gap...
Vivian looked at Sadie. “So you don’t like the book?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sadie said. “But it’s not exactly great writing.”
“Isn’t it, though? Look at how all the plotlines came together. The way Leonora’s daughter came back into the story? Brilliant,” Leah said.
“That was amazing,” Sadie conceded.
