Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

by Gail Honeyman

It’s as unfair to dislike someone because they’re attractive as it is to dislike someone because of a deformity.

“There’s no routine,” I said. “But what kind of things do you eat, generally?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. I listed some of them. Asparagus velouté with a poached duck egg and hazelnut oil. Bouillabaisse with homemade rouille. Honey-glazed poussin with celeriac fondants. Fresh truffles when in season, shaved over cèpes and buttered linguine. She stared at me. “That all sounds quite . . . fancy,” she said. “Oh no, sometimes it’s just something really simple,” I said, “like sourdough toast with Manchego cheese and quince paste.”

This one was yellow and had two white cartoon cockerels on the front. Los Pollos Hermanos, it said. Nonsensical. He looked at his watch.

breaking bad

Did men ever look in the mirror, I wondered, and find themselves wanting in deeply fundamental ways?

those same handsome men if they gained weight or wore something unflattering?

The time for our momentous first encounter was drawing ever closer.

eleanor. Estas con la perspectiva incorrecta

More parties than I had been to in two decades. I hit reply: Dear Raymond, I should be delighted to accompany you to the birthday celebration. Kind regards, Eleanor Oliphant (Ms.) Moments later, I received a response: Twenty-first-century communication. I fear for our nation’s standards of literacy.

“You’ve made me shiny, Laura,” I said. I tried to stop it, but a little tear ran down the side of my nose. I wiped it away with the back of my hand before it could dampen the ends of my new hair. “Thank you for making me shiny.”

not me crying

Grief is the price we pay for love, so they say. The price is far too high.

These days, loneliness is the new cancer—a shameful, embarrassing thing, brought upon yourself in some obscure way. A fearful, incurable thing, so horrifying that you dare not mention it; other people don’t want to hear the word spoken aloud for fear that they might too be afflicted, or that it might tempt fate into visiting a similar horror upon them.

Obscenity is the distinguishing hallmark of a sadly limited vocabulary.

when you took a moment to see what was around you, noticed all the little things, it made you feel . . . lighter.

“When you read about ‘monsters’,” I said, “household names . . . you forget they had families. They don’t just spring from nowhere. You never think about the people that are left behind to deal with the aftermath of it