A perfect novel. The structure was so unusual, alternating chapters about how he (from the flyleaf, it appears nearly all of it is true) and his wife met and their early courtship, with those about her dying process. The story of the early years gradually creeps up in time to meet the end, and by the end both stories alternate in the same chapter. Honest, incredibly moving and sad, and unbelievably beautiful writing. ( )

What makes a happy marriage? Rafael Yglesias, prodigy novelist--he published his first novel at 16--and screenwriter, turns his considerable talent to answering that question in his new book, entitled appropriately enough, A Happy Marriage. It is no spoiler to say the answer turns out far too complex for a simple review like this one. Nor is the conclusion that along the paths happy marriages take unhappiness and grief are strewn. The book never explicitly says so, but happily married couples already knew it and the book confirms it.

It is impossible to know anything about Yglesias without realizing how heavily autobiographical is A Happy Marriage. All the major touchstones of his real life marriage to Margaret Joskow are mirrored in the fictional characters, Enrique Sabas and Margaret Cohen: their courtship, their ups and downs, even a few not too salacious scenes from their sex life. We can guess he’s probably taken liberties with details; we don’t which.

If you find it hard to imagine a book with a name like A Happy Marriage having enough conflict to hold a modern reader’s attention, I predict a pleasant surprise because it is riveting. At least it was for me, even though by the second chapter I knew the inevitable end. Yglesias first takes us to Enrique and Margaret’s original meeting, next, to knowledge of the cancer that eats away at her body and spirit, all 21 chapters alternating symmetrically between their lifetime together and the final few weeks they have left. In Yglesias’ expert hands, it pulls you breakneck through the novel as you plunge ahead insistently to see what will happen.

One other aspect needs mentioning, for although a novel, it should be read by couples facing cancer. Yglesias’ depiction of the agonizing sense of helplessness a person faces seeing a beloved life partner slowly die, the inability to communicate with friends addled by their embarrassed squeamishness at his plight, the jarring perception of how terminal illness cruelly and sweetly brings you closer, rings painfully true to this reviewer. The cosmopolitan, Jewish intellectual that is Enrique Sabas could not be more culturally distant from this Texas Baptist who also had a cherished spouse die of cancer. Yet, that his crystalline emotions were my own allowed me the modicum of comfort their universality makes possible. ( )

a rather bland narrative what doesn't so much disappoint but bore. the thinly veiled personal narrative is a sorely tired genre and typically novels about marriage can't help but touch all the cliches. a forgettable book that would make for superior beach reading

This is a beautifully written account of a 29-year marriage that is ending as the wife dies slowly from cancer. In alternating chapters, we observe the beginning and the evolution of the relationship and its conclusion. The husband, Enrique, is shown with his human flaws and failings, as well as his heart-wrenching courage when facing his wife's end-of-life struggles. ( )

In a recent interview on NPR’s Fresh Air, author Rafael Yglesias reveals:

"One of the reasons that I wrote this novel is that before Margaret ever got ill, I had always wanted to write a novel about a long marriage, especially when I realized in middle age that I had fallen very deeply back in love with my wife in a way that was quite different than the sort of early days of infatuation. And I realized I couldn't write a novel about that because it was a terrible invasion of her privacy and also because it's very difficult to write about something that's still ongoing, a relationship.

After she died, it occurred to me that I could go back to this subject because I would no longer be invading her privacy. And also, I could sit down and look at the marriage, which is really what grief was making me do anyway."

In his first novel in 13 years, Yglesias delves into a semi-autobiographical account of a long and often contentious marriage of Enrique Sabas and his wife, Margaret. Alternating between the romantic beginnings of their early courtship and the heart-wrenching final weeks of Margaret’s battle with cancer, the story explores the complexities of a relationship that spanned almost 30 years.

Yglesias recounts Sabas’ internal struggles—professional insecurities, infidelity, resentment, and intense love—in bold and often painful detail. In the end, the reader is left with a graceful yet raw tale of illness, struggle, loss, and the resilience of love.

[See this review on my blog at http://bontempsreview.wordpress.com/2...] ( )