Since their mother's death, Tip and Teddy Doyle have been raised by their loving, possessive, and ambitious father. As the former mayor of Boston, Bernard Doyle wants to see his sons in politics, a dream the boys have never shared. But when an argument in a blinding New England snowstorm inadvertently causes an accident that involves a stranger and her child, all Bernard...more
Everybody's so goddamned pious, righteous and waxen that you pray for an axe-wielding murderer to crop up and start hacking the shit out of these uber-annoying stick figure ...more
It is one of those books that reveals the sadness that lies right underneath happiness. It makes me think something about how rich and beautiful life can be although our lives may not be lives we woul ...more
Run, told in the third person from the perspective of several characters takes place during a 24 hour period of time on a stormy snowy Boston night. What Patch ...more
it serves me right for pre-empting things! Seriously wow!
I am considering another star but will wait and see what further reflection brings. Run reson ...more
Let me next say that I am a huge fan of Ann Patchett. I have read all of her books and when I learned that Run was coming out I wanted to "run" right out and get it. With school and teaching I haven't had a lot of tim ...more
This book definitely lived up to my expectations and I would highly recommend it to anyone who likes well written and moving fiction. Just read i ...more
I think I was at first taken in by Ms. Patchett's wildly imaginative (if not a tad contrived) storytelling. It kept me consistently engaged, trying to connect the dots for its protagonists and keeping up with Ms Patchett's flights of whimsy; i ...more
PS I don't like that one star means I didn't like it. Can't I give it, like, a big red X or something?
The characterizations are interesting: young black men, adopted sons of the former mayor of Boston who is a white man, find their birth mother accidentally. The sons' voices are true to their upbringing. ...more
Tip and Teddy Doyle, African-American biological brothers, are adopted into a upper class Irish-catholic political family in Boston (their father, Bernard Doyle, was the current mayor of Boston when the adoption took place) when Teddy was an infant and Tip was only eighteen months old. Their ...more
It was a pretty quick read, but I found myself finishing the book just for the sake of finishing it. There was something about the pacing that bothered me th ...more
She moved to Nashville, Tennessee when she was six, where she continues to live. Patchett said she loves her home in Nashville with her doctor husband and dog. If asked if she could go any place, that place would always be home. "Home is ...the stable window that opens out into the imagination."
Patchett attended hi ...more
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God seemed more abundant to him in the Regina Cleri home than any place he had been before. God was in the folds of his bathrobe, the ache of his knees. God saturated the hallways in the form of a pale electrical light. But now that his heart had become so shiftless and unreliable, now that he should be sensing the afterlife like a sweet scent drifting in from the garden, he had started to wonder if there was in fact no afterlife at all. Look at all these true believers who wanted only to live, look at himself, cling onto this life like a squirrel scrambling up the icy pitch of a roof. In suggesting that there may be nothing ahead of them, he in no way meant to diminish the future; instead, Father Sullivan hoped to elevate the present to a state of the divine. It seemed from this moment of repose that God may well have been life itself. God may have been the baseball games, the beautiful cigarette he smoked alone after checking to see that all the bats had been put back behind the closet door. God could have been the masses in which he had told people how best to prepare for the glorious life everlasting, the one they couldn't see as opposed to the one they were living at that exact moment in the pews of the church hall, washed over in stained glass light. How wrongheaded it seemed now to think that the thrill of heartbeat and breath were just a stepping stone to something greater. What could be greater than the armchair, the window, the snow? Life itself had been holy. We had been brought forth from nothing to see the face of God and in his life Father Sullivan had seen it miraculously for eighty-eight years. Why wouldn't it stand to reason that this had been the whole of existence and now he would retreat back to the nothingness he had come from in order to let someone else have their turn at the view. This was not the workings of disbelief. It was instead a final, joyful realization of all he had been given. It would be possible to overlook just about anything if you were trained to constantly strain forward to see the power and the glory that was waiting up ahead. What a shame it would have been to miss God while waiting for him. ”