Happens Every Day

I spent the better part of the weekend miserably sick and not up for doing much of anything. I eventually decided I had it in me to read, but nothing that would require me to think. I picked up Happens Every Day by Isabel Gillies, which was perfect for the state I was in. It didn't even feel like I was reading. It's a memoir and like a comment on the book jacket says, feels like it's a friend talking to you. It's a sad story, about the demise of her marriage and the other woman that came between she and her husband. Ironically, I got the book from my neighbor down the street after his wife left him. He was getting rid of the things she'd left behind and I, of course, went straight for her unwanted books. This memoir is the first I've read from the pile I scavenged. I usually say I'm not a big fan of the genre, but then there are few memoirs I pick up and don't finish (and enjoy). It's gripping to hear someone's story, someone who is willing to reveal so much personal thoughts and feelings, to tell of the excruciatingly embarrassing things she's done. Gillies' book was no exception. She's not afraid to share the tiny humiliations that make up her mortifying story. I looked and saw she has a second memoir that came out recently that continues her tale where she left off. I'll definitely be reading it someday... but hopefully not when I feel like I'm on my death bed.