![]() ![]() The two of them live with their young son in an apartment in Brooklyn, yet seem to occupy separate spheres. She is wracked by doubts regarding her parenting and her relationship with her husband, Ben. She has a codependent relationship with her recovering addict brother, who is a sinkhole of problems. “’I wish you were a real shrink,’ husband says. She is reckoning with middle age (and a bad knee) and is the kind of empathetic soul who soaks in the humanity around her, a person to whom people tell their troubles. Lizzie, once a promising graduate student, now works in a university library. The Buddha once described how his father protected him from the elements.Ī white sunshade was held over me day and night so that no cold or heat or dust or grit or dew might inconvenience me. Offill’s structure seems to approximate human thought in the digital age, where every idea that surfaces can be pursued down rabbit holes of facts and associations, such as when Lizzie, the narrator, is caring for her infant niece: The effect is not fragmentation, however, but cumulative awareness and understanding. ![]() She writes in short dispatches, describing everyday occurrences and numinous moments alike in only a few lines. Jenny Offill’s voice in Weather stays in your bones and invades your thought patterns long after the book is set aside. ![]()
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