Love and Other Impossible Pursuits

by Ayelet Waldman

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In this moving, wry, and candid novel, widely acclaimed novelist Ayelet Waldman takes us through one woman's passage through love, loss, and the strange absurdities of modern life.Emilia Greenleaf believed that she had found her soulmate, the man she was meant to spend her life with. But life seems a lot less rosy when Emilia has to deal with the most neurotic and sheltered five-year-old in New York City: her new stepson William. Now Emilia finds herself trying to flag down taxis with a show more giant, industrial-strength car seat, looking for perfect, strawberry-flavored, lactose-free cupcakes, receiving corrections on her French pronunciation from her supercilious stepson - and attempting to find balance in a new family that's both larger, and smaller, than she bargained for. In Love and Other Impossible Pursuits Ayelet Waldman has created a novel rich with humor and truth, perfectly characterizing one woman's search for answers in a crazily uncertain world. show less

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20 reviews
Ayelet Waldman is so on the money. She's top notch with this book. This book is a hands-down winner for anyone who has ever tried to worm one's way into a young child's heart and is not that child's parent. As a babysitting grandmother who also picks up a young boy from school as well as one who has also innocently tripped and caused her own young charge to fall down suddenly and violently, I empathized immensely with Emelia, the wife of Jack who is five-year-old William's dad. I, too, once had been the object of resistance in my early babysitting days when my grandson told his mom he didn't want to have fun with me on his babysitting days.

I don't approve of Emelia's affair with Jack but that was already a given part of this novel which show more I couldn't change. All I can say is that I totally loved reading about what hard work it is to earn that deep love a young child has to offer a non-parent adult. Once it's there, it will never go away. What a great book!

He is so smart, we say wordlessly. And such a little know-it-all.
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½
- Emilia Greenleaf hates her stepson. She doesn’t really mean to – she wanted to love him, but he’s incredible precocious, and when her suggests things life selling the “baby’s things on EBay”, Emilia cannot stand him. The book follows Emilia as she navigates step-motherhood in the wake of her baby’s early death. Emilia is hard to like – she’s incredibly selfish and self-absorbed, and she basically stole her husband out from underneath his ex-wife, but her grief and difficulty with motherhood rings true. William (the stepson) is heartbreaking, as it’s obvious that his father (who very rarely is around, it seems) is the only stable influence in his life, as the ex-wife is nearly certifiable (though can ya blame her? show more Emilia friggin’ stole her husband, simply because she decided he was her soul mate, despite the fact that he was already married…). show less
Stupid story of shallow superficial girl marrying up and bitching about first world problems. What makes it worth reading: painfully accurate depictions of actual NYC life.
Like Waldman’s online writing, the book veers between too much information and a refreshingly brutal honesty about things like being mad at children. It’s sometimes irritating, sometimes engaging.

My belief was often strained. The main character, Emilia, eschewed group therapy in the wake of her daughter’s death, but this didn’t adequately explain why she, her doctor, or others didn’t railroad her into individual therapy, which she clearly needed. Her husband Jack’s ex-wife was too cruel to be believable; I would have welcomed some complexity. Her stepson William is presented as a precocious five-year old, but more than once it notes Phillip Pullman’s Amber Spyglass as his favorite book. Amber Spyglass is a YA book for 12 show more and up. I’ll allow that a real-life adult MIGHT read this violent, complex, sexual book to a 5yo, but for a fictional preschooler, however precocious, to claim it? No way.

And yet, I enjoyed parts of this book, too. Waldman’s crisp writing kept me reading at a quick clip. Emilia is immature and narcissistic, but she’s also smart and interesting. William, the stepson, was a great character, though I was horrified by many of the things he was subjected to, not just the ones his mother complained that Emilia put him through. The details of Central Park were lovingly drawn, and her ethnography of the NYC mommy/kid/nanny culture was fascinating.
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Emilia was a young lawyer in a prestigious law firm when she started her affair with Jack (partner in the firm), who then left his wife and son to marry Emilia. The story begins soon after Emilia's infant has died and she is deeply depressed about the loss of her child and struggling in her role as the stepmother to Jack's highly intelligent 5-year-old boy, Will. Emilia is, of course, hated by Will's mother, who is overly focused on the tiny details of Will's care. Jack is stuck in the middle between Emilia's depression and her young stepmother frustrations and his ex-wife. At first, it is hard to like Emilia, as she is unhappy and short-tempered with Will. But over time, Emilia begins to make tiny shifts in her efforts to bond with show more Will and when this occurs, the story gradually becomes more heartwarming. It is relatively easy to see the story from multiple perspectives and the characters richly described. I really enjoyed this novel and felt very attached to the main character by the end. show less
Ayelet Waldman's prose is not always as fluid and beautiful as people spoiled by the classics come to expect, but it is fairly fitting of the subject matter-- contemporary life in NYC, dealing with the problems of marriage and being a step-mother. These issues are ugly, dark, and unredeeming, and Waldman uses appropriately analytical, unsentimental language to tell her story. The characters seem exaggerated at times (especially the "precocity" of the little boy William who talks like a professor much of the time), but the overall themes of the book are very real and acute, and Waldman does a good job of developing the idea that love is not magical but something that requires a great deal of work and sacrifice (whether that be loving a show more step-child or a husband). Amelia, the protagonist, is spoiled and self-centered, intelligent, fairly witty, and ultimately a pretty deep person despite her spoiledness. She is able to overcome the big obstacles in the story, albeit not very gracefully, and gains some important insights on what life is about. show less
This was ChickLit, but it was quite enjoyable. The plot and characters were believable and the story was touching... although, I can't imagine a relationship with my husband where I would hide anything from him. Ah, well it's fiction - I'll try another by this author and see if it's as catchy.

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Author Information

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23+ Works 4,342 Members
Ayelet Waldman was born on December 11, 1964. She graduated from Wesleyan University in 1986 and from Harvard Law School in 1991. Before becoming a full-time writer, she worked at a New York law firm and as a federal public defender in California. She is the author of the Mommy-Track Mysteries series, Daughter's Keeper, Love and Other Impossible show more Pursuits, and Red Hook Road. In her essay Motherlove, which was published in Because I Said So: 33 Mothers Write about Children, Sex, Men, Aging, Faith, Race and Themselves, Waldman admitted that she loves her husband more than her children. Her book Bad Mother was written as a result of the negative reaction to her essay. She and Michael Chabon are co-editors of, Kingdom of Olives and Ash: Writers Confront the Occupation. (Bowker Author Biography) show less

Common Knowledge

Original publication date
2006-01-24
People/Characters
Emilia Greenleaf; Jack Woolf; William; Dr. Carolyn Soule
Important places
New York, New York, USA
Related movies
The Other Woman (2009 | IMDb)
Dedication
To my parents,
Ricki and Leonard Waldman
First words
Usually, if I duck my head and walk briskly, I can make it past the playground at West Eighty-first Street. I start preparing in the elevator, my eyes on the long brass arrow as it ticks down from the seventh, sixth, fifth, f... (show all)ourth floor. Sometimes the elevator stops and one of my neighbors gets on, and I have no choice but to crack the carapace of my solitude, and pretend civility. If it's one of the younger ones, the guitar player with the brush of red hair and the peeling skin, say, or the movie executive in the rumpled jeans and the buttery leather coat, it's enough to muster a polite nod of the head. The older ones require more. The steel-haired women in the self-consciously bohemian dresses, folds of purple peeping from under the hems of black wool capes, demand conversation about the weather, or the spot of wear on the Oriental carpet runner in the lobby, or the front page of the arts section. That is quite nearly too much to bear, because don't they see that I am busy? Don't they realize that obsessive self-pity is an all-consuming activity that leaves no room for conversation? Don't they know that the entrance to the park lies right next to the Eighty-first Street playground and that if I am not completely prepared, if I do not clear my mind, stop my ears to all sounds other than my own breathing, it is entirely possible--likely even--that instead of striding boldly past the playground with my eyes on the bare gray branches of the trees, I will collapse outside the playground gate, the shrill voices of the children keening in my skull? Don't they understand, these ladies with their petitions and their dead banker husbands and bulky Tod's purses, that if I let them distract me with talk of Republicans stealing elections or whether Mrs. Katz from 2B saw Anthony the new doorman asleep behind the desk last Tuesday night, I will not make it past the playground to the refuge of the park beyond? Don't they get that the barbaric assault of their voices, the impatient thumping of their Lucite canes as they wait insistently for my mumbled replies, will prevent me from getting to the only place in the entire city where I am able to approximate serenity? They will force me instead to trudge along the Seventy-ninth Street Transverse, pressed against the grimy stone walls, inhaling exhaust fumes from crosstown buses all the way to the East Side. Or worse, they will force me to take a cab.
Quotations
William is five years old, and sometimes sounds like a very small sixty-two-year-old man.
I had learned while still in law school that style, though it could not entirely substitute for adequate research and a sophisticated grasp of the law, could make the difference between a winning argument and one that put the... (show all) judges to sleep.
Experiencing rich people of all colors is not experiencing diversity. (Emelia)
The napkins are pink, made of some remarkable polyester that repels water.
He is so smart, we say wordlessly. And such a little know-it-all.
Last words
(Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)William, Soule Woolf, my unsought, my fortuitous grace.
Blurbers
Greer, Andrew Sean; Allison, Dorothy; Johnson, Diane; Alexie, Sherman; Orringer, Julie; Straight, Susan

Classifications

Genres
General Fiction, Fiction and Literature
DDC/MDS
813Literature & rhetoricAmerican literature in EnglishAmerican fiction in English
LCC
PS3573 .A42124 .L69Language and LiteratureAmerican literatureAmerican literatureIndividual authors1961-
BISAC

Statistics

Members
638
Popularity
45,133
Reviews
20
Rating
(3.76)
Languages
6 — Dutch, English, French, German, Italian, Portuguese
Media
Paper, Audiobook, Ebook
ISBNs
24
ASINs
5