Time of My Life
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
Jillian Westfield, a young wife and mother, gets a chance to find out what life could be like if she had made different choices. With hindsight, Jillian has the chance to discover what if once and for all--and to decide which life is the one she really wants.
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Jillian Westfield, a young wife and mother, gets a chance to find out what life could be like if she had made different choices. With hindsight, Jillian has the chance to discover what if once and for all--and to decide which life is the one she really wants.
Klappentext zu „Time of My Life “
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER A clever, entertaining look at the compromises women make and the dangers of getting what you asked for. PeopleJillian Westfield has a life straight out of the women s magazines she obsessively reads. She s got the modern-print rugs of Metropolitan Home, the elegant meals from Gourmet, and the clutterfree closets out of Real Simple. With her investment-banker husband behind the wheel and her cherubic eighteen-month-old in the backseat, hers could be the family in the magazines Range Rover ads.
Yet somehow all of the how-to magazine stories in the world can t seem to fix her faltering marriage or stop her from asking What if?
Then one morning Jillian wakes up seven years in the past. She s back in her Manhattan apartment. She s back in her fast-paced job. And she s still with Jackson, the ex-boyfriend, and star of her what-if fantasies.
Armed with twenty-twenty hindsight, she s free to choose all over again. She can reconnect to the mother who abandoned her, she can use ad campaigns from her future to wow her clients, and she can fix the fights that doomed her relationship with Jackson.
Or can she?
Praise for Time of My Life
A hilarious read. Redbook
[Jillian] is easy to understand, a woman trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to do with her life. Scotch is a fluent, spirited writer. Boston Globe
A fantastic, often funny novel. Hallmark Magazine
Insightful and honest, Winn Scotch keeps it light but delves into the dark doubts of the road not taken. Family Circle
Lese-Probe zu „Time of My Life “
Chapter OneDing. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Somewhere in the tunnels of my left ear, I hear my car alerting me to the fact that my door is open. I take vague notice of my brain accepting the message, then I quickly ignore it. The dinging, to which I am now immune, as if someone were pinching me on my arm over and over again until that same spot becomes numb, continues.
I run my hands over the cool wood of the steering wheel, then onto the buttery leather seat below, flicking my hands underneath the sweat-basted backs of my thighs. The brochure to this car the one that was filled with a couple who so closely resembled Barbie and Ken that my daughter actually pointed to them and said, Barbie, which my husband and I applauded to the point of revelry (such that people in the dealership craned their necks to see if we d been given a free car or something), because my daugh- ter s vocabulary consisted of, to date, approximately seventeen words, so Barbie was another milestone actually made you believe that if you bought the car, you could also buy the life. As if on the weekends, we d be careening down sides of mountains or hurtling through white-water-filled rivers or picnicking in a dewy, crisply green meadow at sunset with a field of sunflowers just behind us.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Mama.
More.
Dog.
Dada.
No.
Yes.
Kiss.
Milk.
Ball.
Up.
Balloon.
Hi.
Bottle.
Cup.
Bye.
Down.
Sleep.
I run the list of Katie s words over in my mind. I have them down cold, of course, because I was the mother who knew these things. I was the mother who dutifully jotted down every milestone ( 4 months, 3 weeks: Katie rolled over today! Far ahead of the 6-month target! ), who nursed her until her first birthday exactly, per the American Academy of Pediatrics recommendation ( I m so sad to give it up, I told friends as wrinkles washed across my forehead to note my air of sincerity), and who, as I
... mehr
have mentioned, tallied up Katie s vocabulary to ensure that she was on track to fulfill her potential. Seventeen words. A gasp ahead of other eighteen-month-olds.
And now, we also had Barbie.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Splat.
My eyes whip over to the upper corner of the windshield, where mildew-colored bird shit slowly oozes down. Great, I think. Just fucking great. There s never any bird shit in the goddamn brochure. I inhale and try to release the stress, as my Pilates teacher had taught me to do every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings from 10:00 to 11:00, after my nanny had arrived, and just before I went to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. I feel the air fill my chest, and it expands like a helium balloon.
I count to five and try not to gag. It s hard, after all, to clear my mind when the scent of fetid milk is wafting from the backseat. On the way home from a playdate yesterday, Katie had dumped her sippy cup on her head, for apparently no reason whatsoever, and since I d already exhausted myself pretending to dote on the kids at this seemingly never-ending excruciatingly boring playdate, during which all the moms discussed diaper changes and nanny problems and potential preschool applications, I opted not to clean her car seat. Fuck it, I told myself, as I pulled my darling daughter and her crisp near-black curls from her saturated seat and called her a silly willy for dousing herself despite knowing better. Just fuck it.
And so I did. Which is why my Range Rover, which should have still smelled like a fine blend of lemon cleaner and shoe polish, now reeked like petrified puke.
The bird shit is snaking its way into the crack between the windshiel
And now, we also had Barbie.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Splat.
My eyes whip over to the upper corner of the windshield, where mildew-colored bird shit slowly oozes down. Great, I think. Just fucking great. There s never any bird shit in the goddamn brochure. I inhale and try to release the stress, as my Pilates teacher had taught me to do every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings from 10:00 to 11:00, after my nanny had arrived, and just before I went to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. I feel the air fill my chest, and it expands like a helium balloon.
I count to five and try not to gag. It s hard, after all, to clear my mind when the scent of fetid milk is wafting from the backseat. On the way home from a playdate yesterday, Katie had dumped her sippy cup on her head, for apparently no reason whatsoever, and since I d already exhausted myself pretending to dote on the kids at this seemingly never-ending excruciatingly boring playdate, during which all the moms discussed diaper changes and nanny problems and potential preschool applications, I opted not to clean her car seat. Fuck it, I told myself, as I pulled my darling daughter and her crisp near-black curls from her saturated seat and called her a silly willy for dousing herself despite knowing better. Just fuck it.
And so I did. Which is why my Range Rover, which should have still smelled like a fine blend of lemon cleaner and shoe polish, now reeked like petrified puke.
The bird shit is snaking its way into the crack between the windshiel
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Allison Winn Scotch
ALLISON WINN SCOTCH is the author of the novel The Department of Lost and Found. Her work has also appeared in Parents, Glamour, and Redbook. She is at work on her next novel.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Allison Winn Scotch
- 2009, Repr., 304 Seiten, Maße: 13,2 x 20,1 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Crown
- ISBN-10: 0307408582
- ISBN-13: 9780307408587
- Erscheinungsdatum: 28.11.2009
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Named a Top 10 Must-Read for the Season by The Today Show"Scotch's novel is a clever, entertaining look at the compromises women make - and the dangers of getting what you asked for."
People
After this hilarious read, you may just return to your crazy-busy routine a little happier.
Redbook
Perfect to read with friends. A book we love....The kind of unputdownable book you'll really hope gets made into a movie."
Cosmopolitan
"[Jillian] is easy to understand, a woman trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to do with her life. Scotch is a fluent, spirited writer."
Boston Globe
Book pick of the month. Insightful and honest, Winn Scotch keeps it light but delves in the dark doubts of the road not taken.
Family Circle
A must-read. A fantastic, often funny novel.
Hallmark Magazine
An engaging, fast-moving, high-concept drama. Scotch keeps one dexterous step ahead of page-flipping readers eager to guess the outcome.
Publishers Weekly
Scotch s second book shows a writer coming into her own, a storyteller who doesn t take the easy way out, and a woman with a fine understanding of human nature.
Booklist
Time of My Life is a fabulous, madcap read, but don t be fooled. Allison Winn Scotch s narrator is wrestling with some tough issues: How do I find my place in the world? Can I become a wife and mother without losing myself? Would I have been happier if I had chosen another path? Scotch s book is hilarious and true. I loved it.
Amanda Eyre Ward, author of Forgive Me
I loved this book! Time of My Life is funny and delightful and honest in the way only the best novels can be. I read it all in one delicious sitting.
Laura Dave, author of London Is the Best City in America and The Divorce Party
Time of My Life will keep you reading all night and guessing till the very end. An honest and engaging tale about how hindsight may not be twenty-twenty and how our decisions are rarely black and white.
... mehr
I loved it.
Julie Buxbaum, author of The Opposite of Love
Julie Buxbaum, author of The Opposite of Love
... weniger
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