Tue., April 22, 11:50 AM

When I picked up The Glass Wives by Amy Sue Nathan, I was pretty sure that it referred to married women, not something that was easily shattered. (Although maybe… That picture looks like a window.)

 photo glasswives_zps52a8d0b3.jpg

I had used the name myself in a story I once tried to write, so I suspected another aspect. The story begins with a traditional shiva, so I knew I was in the “right ballpark.” The respected Professor Glass has died, leaving a wife, an ex-wife, and — lest we forget — three children. The situation is further tangled by the fact that the current Mrs. Glass is not Jewish but is trying to follow the tradition for the sake of her two step-children. I don’t know; she covered the mirrors but did not remove the Christmas decorations.

I found myself connecting more with Evie, the ex; she was older and shared some of the experiences I had. I am judgmental, however; I’m sure she will have problems she didn’t expect. If you become a victim of divorce, it is high time you took a strong look at how you are living and rethink some of your options. Surprise, surprise, surprise — her ex-husband had not provided for her as much as she had thought.

I had a harder time with Nicole, the widow, even when she extended the hand of friendship. I don’t think it was because she was a husband stealer as much as that there was something “off.” Nicole suggests that she and her infant move into Evie’s house, renting out her own and paying board to Evie. She can help with the twins, who — in my opinion — seem a little helpless for ten, going on eleven, and they can be one big happy family.

Evie does find herself a decent job. (Why would you ever permanently give up the kind of work you enjoy and are qualified to do?) She depends upon her circle of friends and pulls away from the group of soccer moms. We used to call them “Mrs. Suburban Housewife,” and it was no compliment!

Helpful family figures appear out of the void. There are some ups and downs. A deus ex machina to solve problems.

This is “chick-let,” which I really don’t care for. I have to admit it was well-written, even it did press all my “get a grip, woman” buttons. But I really think I prefer “The 5 Mrs. Buchanans.”

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