Right now I’m in the middle of a book called Four Wives by Wendy Walker. It’s such a page turner that I’m ready to get off the computer and go finish reading it in just a few minutes.
The story revolves around four women in a wealthy suburban town called Hunting Ridge. Each of them has healthy children, good looks, a handsome, successful husband, and a big house. On the outside, perfect lives. All four of the women’s stories intertwine with one another as they try to hide secrets about their dissatisfaction with their lives, infidelity, and more.
There are parts of this story which remind me of something that would be on Desperate Housewives, and other parts which would resonate deeply with any married mother of young children. It’s all in there; the stress, the joy, the guilt, marriage difficulties, career choices – this book seems to touch on everything in a really personal and entertaining way.
It’s no wonder, the author, Wendy Walker, wrote this novel as a stay-at-home-mom. She claims to have written the majority of it from the backseat of her minivan.
Here is one of my very favorite passages:
It was not a terrible life. Janie Kirk was a suburban housewife, the steadfast bottom of an inverse pyramid upon which the demands of her family balanced. It was a life founded at its core in her love for the children who lay sleeping inside. From there it grew heavy with the weight of their needs, and those of her husband, which she had carried on her shoulders for so many years. School, soccer, ballet, swimming. Doctors, dentists, speech therapists. Food on the table every day. Laundry, yard work, pets. Birthday parties. Dieting. Sex. It was an odd existence when she stopped to consider it, but so completely common that she rarely did, and it occurred to her that it would be close to perfect if she hadn’t contracted the unfortunate disease of discontentment.