Eventually, I will learn that the first is a small price to pay for the second. Later, while the grill is cooling after dinner, I’ll come back out to the yard to collect the books my dad bought so I can sell them back to him again next week.īeing the Book Lady sets me up for two things: a mouthful of cavities and a deep appreciation for the heft and promise of a book. Instead, I buy twenty watermelon Jolly Ranchers at the pool. He fishes into his pocket and hands me a stack of quarters, saying, Save this for a rainy day. And can you recommend a good book for my wife? We both glance back at the kitchen window, where my mom is still gabbing on the phone, most likely railing about the scourge of Atari. I’m a little dizzy from the hysterical thrum of the cicadas.įinally, my dad says, I’ll take this Encyclopedia Brown. I scratch my mosquito bites and attempt to French-braid my hair and wonder which of my friends will be at the pool in the afternoon. When I’m finished, he makes a show of examining the books, lingering for a moment over battered spines and flipping a few over so he can read the descriptions on the back. My dad listens intently, puffing on his pipe, pretending he hasn’t heard every one of my sales pitches at least ten times before. I explain the concept of Choose Your Own Adventure and read a short poem from Where the Sidewalk Ends. One by one, I lift the books from the suitcase, showcasing them in my hands the way Vanna White does on Wheel of Fortune. When he sees me, he puts down his pipe and Ed McBain, lifts his legs off the bottom half of his chair and gestures for me to set up shop. My dad is sitting on a lounge chair in the sun, his head in a cloud of pipe smoke, reading. I heft my suitcase of books downstairs and make my way to the kitchen, where my mom is on the phone, receiver tucked between ear and shoulder, olive green cord wrapped around her waist. Will immediately kicks the door shut with the toe of his Reebok and, in his unfamiliar new deep voice, says, Get out, Alice. Then I grab the yellow plastic briefcase handles and lug the suitcase down the hall to my brother’s room, where he’s working on the final side of a Rubik’s Cube. When the luggage is full, I sit on its lid and yank twin zippers around the periphery until Strawberry Shortcake’s canvas face is distorted from overstuffing. Around these, I wedge Anastasia Krupnik, Pippi Longstocking, Emily of New Moon, Harriet the Spy, Betsy, Tacy and Tib, the All-of-a-Kind Family. The Ramona books go in the elastic pocket intended for socks and underwear the yellow-spined Nancy Drews go in neat towers on the luggage floor. I drag my suitcase out from under the bed and start packing. “Smart and entertaining…with refreshing straight-forwardness and humor” ( The Washington Post), “fans of I Don’t Know How She Does It and Where’d You Go, Bernadette will adore A Window Opens” ( Booklist, starred review). In the midst of her second coming of age, Alice realizes the question is not whether it’s possible to have it all but, what does she really want the most? The Holy Grail of working mothers―an intellectually satisfying job and a happy personal life―seems suddenly within reach.ĭespite the disapproval of her best friend, who owns the local bookstore, Alice is proud of her new “balancing act” (which is more like a three-ring circus) until her dad gets sick, her marriage flounders, her babysitter gets fed up, her kids start to grow up, and her work takes an unexpected turn. But when her husband makes a radical career change, Alice is ready to lean in-and she knows exactly how lucky she is to land a job at Scroll, a hip young start-up which promises to be the future of reading. She is not: a cook, a craftswoman, a decorator, an active PTA member, a natural caretaker, or the breadwinner. She is a (mostly) happily married mother of three, an attentive daughter, an ambivalent dog-owner, a part-time editor, a loyal neighbor and a Zen commuter. Like her fictional forebears Kate Reddy and Bridget Jones, Alice plays many roles (which she never refers to as “wearing many hats” and wishes you wouldn’t, either). “A winning, heartfelt debut” ( Good Housekeeping), A Window Opens introduces Alice Pearse, a compulsively honest, longing-to-have-it-all, sandwich generation heroine for our social-media-obsessed, lean in (or opt out) age.
#AUDIOBOOK BINDER FOR WINDOWS PROFESSIONAL#
What happens when having it all proves too much to handle? In this “fresh, funny take on the age-old struggle to have it all” ( People) a wife and mother of three leaps at the chance to fulfill her professional destiny-only to learn every opportunity comes at a price.