How interesting it would be to look down on your family and friends after you had died, and be able to not only see them, but hear what they are thinking. Especially, if you weren’t telling exactly how you had died.
Such is the case with Molly Marx. Blond, petite, mother of a toddler, wife of a surgeon who specializes in refining noses, or butts, she was found in the thicket one day by a jogger in Manhattan. How she came to be there, and who her family and friends truly are, is the subject of this well written novel.
We are able to view through Molly’s eyes, while she looks down from Duration, what people she loves are doing and thinking. At the same time, we flash back to episodes when she was still alive and interacting with them. We come to know Barry, her self-assured, philandering husband; Kitty, her superficial, materialistic mother-in-law; Lucy, her not as feminine sister; and lovely Annabel, her beautiful and treasured three year old daughter.
Who is the culprit, we wonder, the cause of her demise? Could it be her husband? Or, is it Luke from whom she has taken guilty solace? Or, perhaps it is one of the women in Molly’s life with her own agenda. We aren’t sure until the end of the novel, when Molly makes peace from above with those below.
I enjoyed this book for its artful look into a woman’s heart, the intricacies of marriage and friendships, the love we carry for our parents and children. I was drawn into the mystery, unable to guess how Molly had died. I breathed a sigh of relief at the closure of it all: Molly, lamented and loved. At least by most.