The new memoir of one my favorite authors, now in her eighties. The dancing fish and ammonites are to be found on artifacts in Lively's home, and they, along with her large book collection and the author's own curious, busy mind, are storehouses for her memories. This is a musing and somewhat meandering reflection on memory and meaning, enjoyable for Lively's particular blend of rigor and gentleness. One imagines that you could sit by her on a bus and have a nice, warm conversation, never guessing that she was one of the smartest people ever to cross your path. Read it to find which three novels she considers the best, having written some very fine ones herself.
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