Big Brother: Brilliant family fiction from the award-winning author of We Need To Talk About Kevin

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Big Brother: Brilliant family fiction from the award-winning author of We Need To Talk About Kevin

Big Brother: Brilliant family fiction from the award-winning author of We Need To Talk About Kevin

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I don't know how long he'll stay," I said quietly. "But while he's here, I want you to imagine what it might be like if you two grow up, and then you, Tanner, visit your sister and her family, and maybe you've had a hard time, and maybe you've been hitting the Häagen-Dazs. Wouldn't you want your sister to still treat you like the same person? Wouldn't you feel hurt if her family made fun of you?"

Tanner?" I led Edison over to where my stepson slouched at the table, taking in the scene while dawdling at his laptop. I could already read in the twist of his mouth the ruthless description of our new houseguest that he'd post on Facebook. "You remember your uncle Edison?" The electronic device buried in the torso included twenty edicts and exclamations. Little had I known that my mischievous little handicraft would soon become a monster. According to the latest thinking on the subject" — we heaved to a stand — " yes." Though I was personally unsure how labeling obesity an "illness" got anyone anywhere. When Edison withdrew his cigarettes, I urged him to the patio. We didn't allow smoking in the house. Doesn't matter why," said Tanner, struggling to stand up straight. "They're always funny, they only get funnier, and that's why Pandora is rich."If I could have gotten away with it, I'd have been pulling the ridge of a flattened hand across my throat. Tanner's expectations were already unrealistic. I didn't want him encouraged. Was a TV star," I said. "He spends most of his time opening used-car lots and doing Rotary Club lunches — " What's so cautionary about my grampa being a TV star?" I noted that in this instance Tanner had dropped the "step." If I looked like that, I'd just wanna die. His ankles are bigger around than your thighs. Hey, you think Mom knew he'd turned into such a load?"

Tanner continued to slouch, so when he extended his arm to limply shake Edison's hand it was from as far away as possible. "Can't say I'd recognize you, either, Ed." Nobody called Edison "Ed." Find that hard to believe." Somewhere under all that fat was my brother's sense of humor. "Don't I get a hug?" Tanner will never get fat!" said Cody. "He's got to watch his figure so he can keep pawing all over his girlfriends." She was about forty-five? The right age. Probably watched every season. It's a whole cohort, Panda Bear. They're not that old, and they're not all dead yet." Just because you learn something in adulthood doesn't mean it's fake," I snapped. "You could be a little more gracious. Like, give us a hand, because I think we're going to have to move the table."

I unveiled my pecan pie. Fletcher wouldn't have any, but it used to be my brother's favorite dessert as a boy. If glutinous with corn syrup, the pie was already baked; besides, look at him: what difference did it make? Although I guessed that's what he routinely told himself. What would you do for love of a brother? For love of a husband? For love of food? In Big Brother, Shriver's new and wonderfully timely novel, her heroine wrestles with these vexing questions. Only the scales don't lie." - Margot Livesey See, what Wynton's done by bringing in Jazz at Lincoln Center is cast the genre as elitist. As high culture, high art. Elitist, can you believe it? A form that came straight outta whites-only water fountains? But that's the drill now, man. Middle-aged boomers hit the Blue Note when they're too out of it to keep up with hip-hop and figure they need to ditch pop for something more sophisticated. It's a pose, man ..." verifyErrors }}{{ message }}{{ /verifyErrors }}{{ I'm going to share a flat with Edison for a year," I said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world rather than an unlikely plot twist. "We can diet together."



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