I really enjoyed reading this book, could hardly put it down, but after it was over I did feel a little dissatisfied. The review below has some good points, the plot does wander a bit, but the story kept me interested. I enjoyed reading about their marriage, a marriage that was happy and fulfilling (like mine) and I could easily put myself in Betta’s place and experience what it would be like to grieve the loss of a soul mate. I liked the fact that she had all the money she needed, at least that part of her life was in place. I liked the descriptions of her house and her domestic activities, baking and cooking, etc. I also enjoyed fantasizing about going to a shop like What A Woman Wants. It was a great summer time read. I also like the way Berg writes; she has a certain depth: How are poets able to unzip what they see around them, calling forth a truer essence from behind a common fact? Why, reading a verse about a pear, do you see past the fruit in so transcendent a way? There are circumstances under which food is not just food—Jane Hirshfield, in her poem “Pillow,” calls a provolone sandwich just that. But this is always true about food, as it is always true about a thousand aspects of daily life that we do not, cannot, fully appreciate—there is only so much room inside, and we are a busy species. It takes the poets to make for a divine displacement. The poets and death. Before, cookbooks were interesting to me, comforting. Now they served as testimony to my own kind of faith. , p. 112. In a grocery store, I’d once heard a woman who looked to be in her eighties say to her companion, “Every day I think I’m back in my thirties, and then every morning I get up and look in the mirror.” her companion, a woman at least as old as she, leaned over to grab her friend’s wrist and confide with a Parkinsonian tremble, “You know, I always say this: I still feel like a girl inside.” I’d looked at their bowed backs, their tight perms, the single-sized cans of baked beans in their carts, thinking, “Me too.” It seemed impossible that I was so far away from standing sleepily before my dresser drawer, pulling out white cotton underpants and a T-shirt, then dressing quickly and racing out the door without so much as a key to weigh me down. P. 123-124. I love that. She says so much with that image of the girl and the white underwear! I also like the way she tells these little stories throughout the novel, seems so much like real life. Something reminds her of something she overheard or someone she knew and she tells the story and it makes such a beautiful connection and provides such depth and authenticity to the character.From Publishers WeeklyThe familiar protagonist of Berg's 13th novel (after The Art of Mending) is a Boston widow of several months, 55-year-old Betta Nolan, who fulfills her dying husband's dream of moving out to the Midwest and starting a new life. "It will give me peace to know that what you will do is exactly what we talked about," says John commandingly before dying of liver cancer; Betta, an author of children's books, sells their Beacon Hill brownstone and takes off, buying an oversized Victorian in the small town of Stewart, Ill., 49 miles from Chicago. Lonely, she finds herself tracking down three former college roommates from the late 1960s, Lorraine, Maddy and Susanna, whom she ditched once she met John. The women reappear one by one and help give her the courage to open a shop called What a Woman Wants (it'll sell "all different stuff that women loved. Beautiful things, but unusual too. Like antique birdcages with orchids growing in them"). Meanwhile, she begins to make friends in town, notably with attractive young handyman Matthew and natty oldster Tom Bartlett. Berg is a pro at putting together an affecting saga of interest to women of a certain age, yet here she seems to be writing in her sleep. There is little effort at cohesion—rather, a kind of serendipitous plot that goes every which way and a series of tentative, aborted romances. The impression readers will be left with is of a woman endlessly nurturing and rarely satisfied.
tElizabeth Berg’s newest novel, The Year of Pleasures, finds its central character, Etta Nolan, devastated by the death of her husband. The two of them had been so devoted to each other, so compatible and so self-contained. “Complete unto yourselves,” in the words of Sheila, her neighbor, who found this off-putting. Unable to have children, Etta and John decided not to adopt, although they both loved children. She lost touch with her college roommates, from whom she had been inseparable, and had no close friends other than her husband. No wonder she felt adrift.tWhat does she do? She follows the plan she and her husband had for their senior years – she sells their house in Boston which they loved, puts her possessions in storage, gets in her car, and drives to the mid-West looking for a small town in which to put down new roots. She finds a great house, just like the one she and her husband had dreamed of. She makes new friends of various ages and, amazingly, reconnects with her college roommates, who embrace and support their old friend despite the fact that she severed all ties with them after college. tBut most of all, she finds the strength to embrace life anew, to grow and take risks, and create a new life for herself alone, relying on her friends, old and new and, more importantly, on herself. Despite its somber starting point of where-do-you-go-with-the-rest-of-your-life-when- you- most-significant-othe- is-gone, it is an optimistic and up-beat book. It is a fast and easy read, punctuated by tears and burst of recognition as Etta rediscovers her own strength. tAside from Etta, who we see from numerous angles and in different situations as she reaches out to and responds to those she chances to meet in her new circumstances, the characters are only roughly sketched. This leaves it to us to fill in the blanks ourselves, making the story more personal and satisfying. tThough not a new theme, The Year of Pleasures is a satisfying book for women of a certain age who await a new phase in their own lives with some uncertainty yet hope their future brings the joy and satisfaction that Etta finds.
What do You think about The Year Of Pleasures (2006)?
Berg's books are like potato chips (without the fat), they're so easy to read. I liked the premise of this book, about how a young widow (50s) makes her way the first months after her husband dies. (I don't really think the book covers a year, or it's such a quick read it didn't seem like it. The title refers to all the "rules" widows should abide, such as "don't make any changes for a year" or "don't date for a year.") I liked the descriptions of the food and house Betta buys. What I don't like is just how lucky Betta is (excepting her husband's death)--she easily reunites with old friends, gets millions for her house that sells so quickly, finds a handyman for $15 p/hour--really? and of course she looses weight with no effort. A year of pleasures is easy to do when you have time and money. There's a reason why it's called escape fiction!
—Sterlingcindysu
Over the past few years, there have been some standouts dealing with women rediscovering themselves. Lolly Winston's "Good Grief" comes immediately to mind, as does Sue Monk Kidd's "The Mermaid Chair." Going back a bit further, Berg's own "Pull of the Moon" is a classic in its descriptive realism -- one of the author's many strengths. Unfortunately, "Year of Pleasures" comes nowhere close to Berg's best. It is shallow, even with its topic -- the death of a spouse. It is unbelievable, even with its thousands of details (the reader is almost overwhelmed with memories, thoughts, and feelings, all of which Berg seems compelled to dump on the page). It is disjointed and, to me, an unfinished work. I just don't buy the characters, their development, or the way they're all thrown together -- and then abandoned like so many Barbie dolls that Berg got tired of manipulating. Not worth the read. Opt for one of her others, like "The Art of Mending" or "Open House." It was a relief to be done with this book.
—Lain
There is something really comforting about this book and in they way that the author has written this. I know its about death and new beginnings which is emotional, but its also like putting on your favourite snuggly clothes. I really like the way Elizabeth Berg describes the ordinariness of life in such a sumptuous way. I think I could read this book more than once and that I'd feel satisfied every time I read it. The characters and situations are so real and easy to like and get involved with. Perfect really.
—Nicki
