Pete and Alice in Maine

 

Pete and Alice in Maine by Caitlin Shetterly

Fiction

2023

Finished on January 23, 2026

Rating: 4.5/5 (Excellent)

Publisher's Blurb:

Reeling from a painful betrayal in her marriage as the COVID-19 pandemic takes hold in New York City, Alice packs up her family and flees to their vacation home in Maine. She hopes to find sanctuary--from the uncertainties of the exploding pandemic and her faltering marriage.

Putting distance between herself and the stresses and troubles of the city, Alice begins to feel safe and relieved. But the locals are far from friendly. Trapped and forced into quarantine by hostile neighbors, Alice sees the imprisoning structure of her life in this new predicament. Stripped down to the bare essentials of survival and tending to the needs of her two children, she can no longer ignore all the ways in which she feels limited and lost--lost in the big city, lost as a wife, lost as a mother, lost as a daughter, and lost as a person. 

As the world shifts around her and the balance in her marriage tilts, Alice and her husband, Pete, are left to consider whether what keeps their family safe is the same thing as what keeps their family together.

Had I stumbled upon this novel in a bookstore, I would have bought it simply for the beautiful cover art. But I had been seeking out a copy at every independent bookstore we visited last year, finally finding a copy at Winter River Books in Bandon, Oregon. After reading a friend's glowing review of Shetterly's debut novel, I was eager to read it, and now I'm happy to own a copy since it will be one to read again.

I love a novel that pulls me in from the opening lines, keeping me reading late at night, inhaling it in two short days. I also don't mind reading about Covid and the lockdown, which in some ways reminds me that we can do hard things. I've read a few novels that are centered around the pandemic (Wish You Were Here by Jodi Picoult, Tom Lake by Ann Patchett, and most recently Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout), and Shetterly's didn't disappoint. Her writing is reminiscent of Catherine Newman's (We All Want Impossible Things, Sandwich, and Wreck), and the minute I finished this book, I searched the Internet to see if she had more to offer. I was happy to see that she has a follow-up, The Gulf of Lions, which is due out in May. 

My only quibble about the novel has to do more with the characters than the writing. The eldest daughter's attitude and mouthy attacks on her little sister and her mother made me want to shake her. Alice's husband is no prince, either. And yet I loved this compelling book about marriage and parenthood, warts and all.

I thought this was a lovely passage:

Anyway, the peonies, yes. There's that Jane Kenyon poem where she calls them "outrageous flowers." This year, seeing them in bloom in Maine for the first time, my first June here, and taking the time to really watch them go from those tight little balls to these luxurious Victorian pom-poms, I have seen what she meant. And then, as if they know how overly--no, outrageously--blessed they are with good fortune, rather than hold their heads high with pride, they droop like little supplicants, heads down, apologizing. 

Highly recommend!

Lucy by the Sea

 

Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout

Amgash, #4

Fiction

2022

Finished on December 17, 2025

Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

With her trademark crystalline prose, Elizabeth Strout turns her exquisitely tuned eye to the inner workings of the human heart, following the indomitable heroine of My Name Is Lucy Barton through the early days of the pandemic.

As a panicked world goes into lockdown, Lucy Barton is uprooted from her life in Manhattan and bundled away to a small town in Maine by her ex-husband and on-again, off-again friend, William. For the next several months, it's just Lucy, William, and their complex past together in a little house nestled against the moody sea.

Lucy by the Sea vividly captures the fear and struggles that come with isolation, as well as the hope, peace, and possibilities that those long, quiet days can inspire. At the heart of this story are the deep human connections that unite us even when we're apart--the pain of a beloved daughter's suffering, the emptiness that comes from the death of a loved one, the promise of a new friendship, and the comfort of an old, enduring love.

If you hadn't noticed, I've been reading (and re-reading) a lot of Elizabeth Strout's novels this year. After re-reading Olive, Again, I jumped back into Strout's Amgash series which focuses mainly on Lucy Barton and her friends and relatives. I was somewhat disappointed with Oh William! but once I finished that book, I immediately picked up Lucy by the Sea and was instantly engrossed. I can't explain why, but I don't mind reading books set during the pandemic. I know a lot of people would like to forget about those first years during lockdown, but I like to revisit those months, reminding myself just how far we've come. Strout reminds her readers how especially scary it was to be a New Yorker during the first year of pandemic, and I am forever grateful that we live in a small community, mostly isolated from large crowds. (I've written about those early years here.)

Notable Passages:

Here is what I did not know that morning in March: I did not know that I would never see my apartment again. I did not know that one of my friends a family member would die of this virus. I did not know that my relationship with my daughters would change in ways I could never have anticipated. I did not know that my entire life would become something new.

 

Who knows why people are different? We are born with a certain nature, I think. And then the world takes its swings at us.

 

I thought then that William had been right to bring me up here, where I could walk freely even if I didn't see many people. The question of why some people are luckier than others--I have no answer for this.

 

It has been said that the second year of widowhood is worse than the first--the idea being, I think, that the shock has worn off and now one has to simply live with the loss...

And I also understood: Grief is a private thing. God, is it a private thing. 

 

It is a gift in this life that we do not know what awaits us. 

In any case, Lucy by the Sea was a much more relatable and moving story than Oh William!, despite sharing the same anecdotal first-person delivery that I disliked in Oh William! I came to care about Lucy as I eventually did with Olive Kitteridge, and enjoyed seeing all the familiar faces that have been such a big part of Strout's stories. As soon as I finished this book, I happily picked up Tell Me Everything, the 5th in the Amgash series.

Heartwarming as well as somber ... Although simple on the surface, Strout's new novel manages, like her other, to encompass love and friendship, joy and anxiety, grief and grievances, loneliness and shame--and a troubling sense of growing unrest and division in America.... Strout's understanding of the human condition is capacious. ~NPR

Highly recommend, but should be read in order, at least with the Amgash books. 

The Pandemic: Five Years Later

It's been five years since the beginning of the pandemic, and I thought I'd write about that first year, reflecting on how quickly life changed for the entire world. 

I drafted a blog post in March 2021, but never got around to publishing it. I'm incorporating that post with some current thoughts, as well as photos from that first year.

On March 13, 2020 we entered a state mandated lockdown in Oregon. In conversations with my family and friends, we all agreed that it would probably only last until summer, and maybe even into the fall, but I don't think any of us had any idea we'd still be there a year later. Of course, we weren't "locked down" for the entire year, but our lives aren't that much different than they were last spring. We are still wearing masks and washing our hands and observing social distancing guidelines. But I now go to the grocery store once a week instead of every two weeks. We get together with friends, but only outside and masked, of course. We haven't had any visitors and haven't seen any family since September 2019, when we were all together for our daughter's wedding. 

We watched a lot of TV, streaming all sorts of British detective series, as well as regular movies. There was always a jigsaw puzzle in progress at the end of our dining room table and it looks like we completed a total of 23 (!!) during the past year. We played Quirkle, Quiddler and Trivial Pursuit, as well as a few other new games. I continued to read and blog, which helped keep me sane.

I discovered dozens of delicious new recipes (our favorite might be the fruit galette), baked bread (when I could find yeast*) and experimented with a sous vide. 

No longer able to work out at our gym, a Peloton bike (and on-demand classes) saved me from the dreaded COVID 15.

*We already knew TP and sanitizer would be scarce, but flour and yeast?

And we Zoomed. A lot. Zoom kept us in touch with our family and friends. I'm grateful that I don't have to use it on a daily basis, but I'm glad we were able to see the faces of those we love and miss. My book group meetings were also on Zoom, which was a bit weird at first, but we were so desperate for those interactions and made it work.

We have remained safe and virus-free. My mom has now had both of her vaccinations and my husband and I have just had our first jabs. So by the end of April, we should be able to resume life relatively close to what we once knew. We are already beginning to sigh with relief, but that doesn't mean we're going to be careless. We will still wear our masks while out in public and keep a bottle of sanitizer in the car. I'm not sure when we'll feel safe enough to go out to eat.

And of course now, five years after the onset of the pandemic, we've had numerous boosters and feel pretty confident that the danger is behind us. Surprisingly, neither my mom (who turns 92 this year), my husband, nor I have ever had Covid. It seems like everyone we know has had it at least once, but we've never caught it. 

We started getting together outdoors within our small "pods," while maintaining safe distances and using hand sanitizer. My Mah Jong pals and I even started to play again, wearing masks and either sitting outside on a patio or in a warm garage with all the doors wide open. 

It was cold in that garage!!

Rod and his friends got together to play music in our garage and driveway. 

Covid testing sites began to pop up in our county, which has less than 50,000 residents. You had to have a doctor's order to be tested there.

Our little town of Depoe Bay looked like a ghost town! 

Watched the strange Opening Day Dodger game with the stands filled with cardboard cutouts. So bizarre. 

From my blog post of March 2020:

I am fortunate to live in a beautiful community and am able to get outside and walk along the ocean and in the forest, listening to podcasts and audiobooks, all of which provides me with much needed distraction from the news and updates. We cancelled our upcoming 2-month road trip (we were to leave yesterday) for obvious reasons.

We did eventually get to take a trip up the coast to one of our favorite campgrounds (Nehalem Bay State Park) and camped for 11 days! It was our first outing since the previous year, so we were very happy to get away. We had the campground pretty much to ourselves, with the exception of the first weekend. Even then, it was maybe only 10% full.

 

More from my 2021 notes:

Our county has moved into a low risk category and yet we are still not comfortable with going out to eat unless there is an outdoor option. 

Looking forward to going out to eat with friends. Traveling and visiting family and friends. 

A year ago, the U.S. had confirmed 1,000 coronavirus infections. Now, we’re approaching 30 million. We couldn't fathom losing 100,000, but we did. Today, more than 530,000 Americans have died from the virus. [As of March 2025, Wikipedia states that there are 1,219,038 confirmed deaths from Covid in the U.S.]

I don't think anyone will ever forget this time in our lives. 

We are retired and our lives didn't change as drastically as those who have jobs or have children in school.

Notes From My Journal:

January 20 - First case of COVID in U.S. (Washington state).

February 29 - First COVID death in U.S. 

March 11 - Costco was a zoo! No toilet paper or Kleenex. People are panic-buying because of COVID.

March 12 - Grocery store has empty shelves. Stock market dropped 7000 points since January. 

March 14 - Trying not to spend too much time online reading about COVID. This is such a surreal time. Schools are closed. March Madness and NBA cancelled. Libraries closed. Churches closed. Disneyland closed! Broadway went dark. Long lines at grocery stores. I cancelled all of our reservations for our camping trip. :(

March 16 - Lots of emails flying around about whether to cancel book club and Rae's going away brunch. Shay wants to come out this summer, but who knows if that's even possible.

March 18 - Rec Center officially closed.

March 19 - Day 1 COVID "Stay at Home." COVID testing tent set up at Samaritan clinic.

March 20 - IRS moves filing date to July 15th. CA statewide "stay at home" order. "Shelter in place" COVID deaths surpasses 10,000 globally. Our stocks our down $77K. Went shopping with Rod. Bought almost $350 in groceries. Should be stocked up for a month. 

March 22 - Socially distanced drinks on the deck with Molly & Dave. 

March 23 - Family game night with Rod and Mom (Quiddler). Rod has a cough... trying not to worry!

March 24 - Text from CJ - coworker has COVID. First case in Lincoln county.

March 30 - John Prine has COVID - critical condition.

April 7 - John Prine died.

April 8 - Depoe Bay looks like a ghost town. No cars parked anywhere!

April 11 - Feeling out of sorts. Anxious. Lonely. Missing my girlfriends. Want to go camping!

April 15 - Really miss having a normal routine. No yoga, no pickleball, no Mah Jong, no book club to fill the days. 

Wimbledon cancelled.

Boston Marathon cancelled. First time in its history.

May 19 - Trader Joe's and Costco. Masks required for entry. 

May 25 - Unrest in Minneapolis after George Floyd was killed by police officer kneeling on his neck for 9 minutes. 

May 27 - 100,000 deaths in the United States!

NYC Marathon cancelled. 

July 23 - Opening Day (baseball). No fans in the stadium, just cardboard cut-outs with photos!

Got my first haircut after an entire year - 6" cut off!

This is all I have in my notes. I may add more as my Facebook memories pop up, but that's it for now.

May we never had to endure such a terrible health scare again. Science matters!

Day

 

Day by Michael Cunningham

Fiction

2023

Finished on March 15, 2024

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

As the world changes around them, a family weathers the storms of growing up, growing older, falling in and out of love, losing the things that are most precious—and learning to go on—from the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The Hours.

April 5, 2019 : In a cozy brownstone in Brooklyn, the veneer of domestic bliss is beginning to crack. Dan and Isabel, troubled husband and wife, are both a little bit in love with Isabel’s younger brother, Robbie. Robbie, wayward soul of the family, who still lives in the attic loft; Robbie, who, trying to get over his most recent boyfriend, has created a glamorous avatar online; Robbie, who now has to move out of the house—and whose departure threatens to break the family apart. Meanwhile Nathan, age ten, is taking his first uncertain steps toward independence, while Violet, five, does her best not to notice the growing rift between her parents.

April 5, 2020: As the world goes into lockdown, the brownstone is feeling more like a prison. Violet is terrified of leaving the windows open, obsessed with keeping her family safe, while Nathan attempts to skirt her rules. Isabel and Dan communicate mostly in veiled jabs and frustrated sighs. And beloved Robbie is stranded in Iceland, alone in a mountain cabin with nothing but his thoughts—and his secret Instagram life—for company.

April 5, 2021: Emerging from the worst of the crisis, the family reckons with a new, very different reality—with what they’ve learned, what they’ve lost, and how they might go on. From the brilliant mind of Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Cunningham, Day is a searing, exquisitely crafted meditation on love and loss and the struggles and limitations of family life—how to live together and apart.

It's been over twenty years since I read Michael Cunningham's award winning novel, The Hours, which I picked up shortly after reading Virginia Woolf's classic, Mrs. Dalloway. Told from multiple points of view, Cunningham's latest novel, Day, follows a Brooklyn family on the same date (April 5th) in the years 2019, 2020 and 2021.

I don't remember much about the author's writing style for The Hours, but Day is most certainly an erudite literary work and not one to breeze through. The first section required close reading, and as I reread passages and sought the definition of several words, I grew impatient, eager for the hook to propel me into Cunningham's story. The deeper into the work I read, I realized that I didn't care about the characters (five-year-old Violet is far too precocious), and it wasn't until the final segment (set in 2021) that I was unable to put the book down. I feel I'm fairly well-read, but there are certain authors' works (Margaret Atwood, Ian McEwan, Toni Morrison) with which I struggle, asking myself if I'm smart enough to "get" the underlying meaning of their prose. I wanted to love this novel, but it fell short of my expectations. However, I do plan to reread The Hours later this year. I may even add Mrs. Dalloway to my reread stack, as well.

Tom Lake

Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

Fiction

2023 Harper

Finished on August 17, 2023

Rating: 5/5 (Excellent!)

Publisher's Blurb:

In the spring of 2020, Lara’s three daughters return to the family's orchard in Northern Michigan. While picking cherries, they beg their mother to tell them the story of Peter Duke, a famous actor with whom she shared both a stage and a romance years before at a theater company called Tom Lake. As Lara recalls the past, her daughters examine their own lives and relationship with their mother, and are forced to reconsider the world and everything they thought they knew.

Tom Lake is a meditation on youthful love, married love, and the lives parents have led before their children were born. Both hopeful and elegiac, it explores what it means to be happy even when the world is falling apart. As in all of her novels, Ann Patchett combines compelling narrative artistry with piercing insights into family dynamics. The result is a rich and luminous story, told with profound intelligence and emotional subtlety, that demonstrates once again why she is one of the most revered and acclaimed literary talents working today.

"Patchett’s intricate and subtle thematic web…enfolds the nature of storytelling, the evolving dynamics of a family, and the complex interaction between destiny and choice….These braided strands culminate in a denouement at once deeply sad and tenderly life-affirming. Poignant and reflective, cementing Patchett’s stature as one of our finest novelists." — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

I'm not sure if I know how to review this marvelous novel! I loved the entire book, savoring each sentence, and as the final pages drew near, I told my husband that I hated to say goodbye to Patchett's characters; they felt so real! The book could have been a thousand pages and it wouldn't have been long enough.

To begin, I'm very happy that I decided to get a copy of Our Town to read in advance of starting Tom Lake. Somehow, I managed to go through life without ever reading Our Town. I've also never seen the play, but had a vague idea of its premise. I suppose one could read Tom Lake without knowing a thing about Thornton Wilder's classic, but it's a much richer experience knowing the role of the actors, and how they influenced Patchett's story.

Not only does Ann Patchett create memorable characters who feel like family, she also paints a beautiful image of the setting....

Tom Lake turned out to be crushingly pretty. There was a huge covered amphitheater sunk into the rolling lawns. The musical ran in the amphitheater. They also had a black box theater where they staged the straight plays like Our Town and Fool for Love. There were tennis courts with a clubhouse that served iced tea and sandwiches. A smattering of lovely houses--some that had been turned into administrative offices, some for boarding the actors and designers and technicians, and some where regular people spent the summer--spread along the shore of a tremendous lake. Fruit trees bloomed, paths meandered, hills swelled, like someone had clipped pictures out of a pile of magazines and then glued the very best ones together on a single page. A couple of miles away was a small town that took most of its annual revenue from the summer tourists who came to stay in one of the two hotels, have supper, and spend the next morning wandering through the little shops before coming over with their theater tickets. The most ambitious ones walked in for a show then caught a shuttle bus back. They wore Tom Lake T-shirts and Tom Lake hats as they paddled rented canoes past the diving platform and out across the lake. The whole thing was a fragile ecosystem, as small towns and theater companies usually are, but as far as I could see it was thriving.

I also love this gem of a passage:

There's no explaining this simple truth about life: you will forget much of it. The painful things you were certain you'd never be able to let go? Now you're not entirely sure when they happened, while the thrilling parts, the heart-stopping joys, splintered and scatted and became something else. Memories are then replaced by different joys and larger sorrows, and unbelievably, those things get knocked aside as well, until one morning you're picking cherries with your three grown daughters and your husband goes by on the Gator and you are positive that this is all you've ever wanted in the world. 

and

“We clump together in our sorrow. In joy we may wander off in our separate directions, but in sorrow we prefer to hold hands.” 

I know that Tom Lake is a book I'll read again, and I'm eager to listen to the audio production, which is narrated by the ever-so-talented Meryl Streep!

I also can't wait to return to Nashville, not only to see my daughter and son-in-law, but to pay another visit to Parnassus Books. Maybe I'll get to meet my favorite author face-to-face!

This is one you'll hug to your chest, whispering "Great book! Bravo." Highly recommend.

This made my day!

Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here by Jodi Picoult

Fiction

2021 Ballantine Books

Finished on June 19, 2022

Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:
 

Diana O’Toole is perfectly on track. She will be married by thirty, done having kids by thirty-five, and move out to the New York City suburbs, all while climbing the professional ladder in the cutthroat art auction world. She’s an associate specialist at Sotheby’s now, but her boss has hinted at a promotion if she can close a deal with a high-profile client. She’s not engaged just yet, but she knows her boyfriend, Finn, a surgical resident, is about to propose on their romantic getaway to the Galapagos—days before her thirtieth birthday. Right on time.

But then a virus that felt worlds away has appeared in the city, and on the eve of their departure, Finn breaks the news: It’s all hands on deck at the hospital. He has to stay behind. You should still go, he assures her, since it would be a shame for all of their nonrefundable trip to go to waste. And so, reluctantly, she goes.

Almost immediately, Diana’s dream vacation goes awry. Her luggage is lost, the Wi-Fi is nearly nonexistent, and the hotel they’d booked is shut down due to the pandemic. In fact, the whole island is now under quarantine, and she is stranded until the borders reopen. Completely isolated, she must venture beyond her comfort zone. Slowly, she carves out a connection with a local family when a teenager with a secret opens up to Diana, despite her father’s suspicion of outsiders.

In the Galapagos Islands, where Darwin’s theory of natural selection was formed, Diana finds herself examining her relationships, her choices, and herself—and wondering if when she goes home, she too will have evolved into someone completely different.

Wow. This turned out to be a powerful and thought-provoking read. In some ways it's nothing like Picoult's previous novels; there is no courtroom drama and no alternating points-of-view. And yet, I was immediately drawn into this timely story, nodding my head as Picoult reminds us of those first terrible months of the pandemic. As I got further into the book, however, I began to feel impatient. I was quite sure I knew exactly where the author was leading me, irritated that her plot had become predictable and almost tedious. Boy, was I ever wrong! I won't say anything more, so as  not to spoil the story, but I will say that this is an exceptional book. The characters and details of the Covid pandemic are remarkably genuine, the book reading like nonfiction. Some may say it's too soon to chronicle the horrors of the pandemic, but I didn't mind reading it a little over two years after the United States went into full lockdown. I devoured Joyce Maynard's coming-of-age novel, The Usual Rules, which was published two years after 9/11, and I've sought out and read books on grief just months after a personal loss. It's through the written word that I find answers to the unimaginable and Jodi Picoult's latest work paints a vivid portrait of our shared experience of this global pandemic. Isolation, survival, and resilience are just a few themes that make this novel a terrific book group choice. There is plenty to discuss, with the caveat that everyone is prepared to discuss all spoilers. Highly recommend. (Knocked down half a point for the uneven pacing in the first half of the book.)

The Pull of the Stars

The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donoghue

Fiction

2020 Hachette Audio

Narrated by Emma Lowe

Finished on April 23, 2022

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:
 

In an Ireland doubly ravaged by war and disease, Nurse Julia Power works at an understaffed hospital in the city center, where expectant mothers who have come down with the terrible new flu are quarantined together. Into Julia's regimented world step two outsiders—Doctor Kathleen Lynn, a rumoured Rebel on the run from the police, and a young volunteer helper, Bridie Sweeney.

In the darkness and intensity of this tiny ward, over three days, these women change each other's lives in unexpected ways. They lose patients to this baffling pandemic, but they also shepherd new life into a fearful world. With tireless tenderness and humanity, carers and mothers alike somehow do their impossible work.

In The Pull of the Stars, Emma Donoghue once again finds the light in the darkness in this new classic of hope and survival against all odds.

I spent the good part of a month listening to the audio edition of Emma Donoghue's The Pull of the Stars. I might have finished it more quickly, but we were traveling for almost two weeks, and I didn't listen the entire time we were away. When we got home, it rained. A lot. So, no walks, which means no audiobook. And yet, I was able to jump right back into the narrative when I started listening again. This is partly because there aren't a lot of characters to keep track of, and partly because there isn't a lot going on. Yes, there is the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic, but the main action takes place in a hospital in a maternity ward with less than a handful of patients and staff. The expectant mothers are infected with the flu, which causes some to go into early labor. Nurse Julia, and her naive helper Bridie, work well together as a team to save each mother and newborn.

As I began listening to the audiobook, I felt this story would make a good play. Most of the action takes place in a single room (Ah! So did Donoghue's earlier novel, Room.), insulated from the world much like the unborn in their mother's wombs. The details of the pandemic, and the reaction to those afflicted, and the government's response and public notices for prevention, hit a little too close to home, and I'm glad I waited until now to start listening to the book. Had I begun when it was first published (coincidentally, just as we were going into lockdown with Omicron), I might not have wanted to continue. 

I've only read one other book by Emma Donoghue (Room) and The Pull of the Stars is quite different from that modern day ripped-from the-headlines captivity horror. The medical details of the births are at times cringeworthy, reminding me of my daughter's difficult delivery almost 39 years ago. It took me about 50% listening time before I started to care about Julia and Bridie, and despite the predictable conclusion, I felt a gentle tug at my heartstrings. Overall, I thought the book was informative and entertaining, but the birthing details became tedious, and it wasn't until the final chapters that I came to care about any of the characters.

 

Thank you to Hachette Audio and Libro.fm for my complimentary access to this audiobook. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

The Fireman

The Fireman by Joe Hill

Fiction/Dystopia

2016 HarperAudio

Narrated by Kate Mulgrew

Finished on January 5, 2021

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

From the award-winning, New York Times bestselling author of NOS4A2 and Heart-Shaped Box comes a chilling novel about a worldwide pandemic of spontaneous combustion that threatens to reduce civilization to ashes and a band of improbable heroes who battle to save it, led by one powerful and enigmatic man known as the Fireman. The fireman is coming.

Stay cool.

No one knows exactly when it began or where it originated. A terrifying new plague is spreading like wildfire across the country, striking cities one by one: Boston, Detroit, Seattle. The doctors call it Draco Incendia Trychophyton. To everyone else it’s Dragonscale, a highly contagious, deadly spore that marks its hosts with beautiful black and gold marks across their bodies—before causing them to burst into flames. Millions are infected; blazes erupt everywhere. There is no antidote. No one is safe.

Harper Grayson, a compassionate, dedicated nurse as pragmatic as Mary Poppins, treated hundreds of infected patients before her hospital burned to the ground. Now she’s discovered the telltale gold-flecked marks on her skin. When the outbreak first began, she and her husband, Jakob, had made a pact: they would take matters into their own hands if they became infected. To Jakob’s dismay, Harper wants to live—at least until the fetus she is carrying comes to term. At the hospital, she witnessed infected mothers give birth to healthy babies and believes hers will be fine too. . . if she can live long enough to deliver the child.

Convinced that his do-gooding wife has made him sick, Jakob becomes unhinged, and eventually abandons her as their placid New England community collapses in terror. The chaos gives rise to ruthless Cremation Squads—armed, self-appointed posses roaming the streets and woods to exterminate those who they believe carry the spore. But Harper isn’t as alone as she fears: a mysterious and compelling stranger she briefly met at the hospital, a man in a dirty yellow fire fighter’s jacket, carrying a hooked iron bar, straddles the abyss between insanity and death. Known as The Fireman, he strolls the ruins of New Hampshire, a madman afflicted with Dragonscale who has learned to control the fire within himself, using it as a shield to protect the hunted . . . and as a weapon to avenge the wronged.

In the desperate season to come, as the world burns out of control, Harper must learn the Fireman’s secrets before her life—and that of her unborn child—goes up in smoke.

I came across Joe Hill's debut novel (Heart-Shaped Box) over a decade ago and quickly became a fan. I read 20th Century Ghosts (his collection of short stories) and Horns a couple of years later, but never got around to reading The Fireman when it was released. It wasn't the premise of the book that made me hesitate, but rather its heft! The print edition has 768 pages and the audio clocks in at over 22 hours of listening time. I really needed to be in the mood for this chunkster!

I began listening at the beginning of October, but had to pause when it came time to listen to American Dirt for my upcoming book group discussion. I was actually at a point in The Fireman when I was tempted to call it quits, so it was probably good to have a little break and listen to something else. I didn't resume listening right after finishing American Dirt, but went on to another audiobook that had been in my queue. When that was over, I decided to see if I could finish The Fireman since I had already invested so much time in it. Surprisingly, I was able to pick up right where I left off without any confusion or need to refresh my memory on the plot or characters.

Going into The Fireman, I had no idea that book centered around a pandemic and as I listened, I felt as if Hill could be writing about our early days in the COVID pandemic. Confusion about how the virus spread, as well as the division between members of society on prevention and treatment, sounded all too familiar. Thank goodness we don't have to worry about bursting into flames!

Kate Mulgrew does a fine job with the audio narration, but I never felt completely hooked and wonder if a different reader would have pulled me in better. I'm thinking of someone along the lines of Scott Brick, who did an outstanding job with The Passage and The Twelve by Justin Cronin. Or, maybe this is one which should have been enjoyed in print rather than audio. I'm not sorry that I read the book, but it was far too long for my liking, losing steam around the halfway mark. Heart-Shaped Box remains my favorite, but I still haven't read NOS4A2, so that may change.