Not going to lie, I've had this book forever but I only started reading it because Netflix has released a limited series. THe first line was so promising: " When I was a child, I loved old men and I could tell that they also loved me."
And that legitimately sets the tone for the rest of the novel. The narrator and main character is a female professor in her late 50's at a small liberal arts college in upstate NY. She has a crisis when her older husband, also a professor, is accused of sexual harassment and improper relationships (many of them sexually consummated) by former students of his. They have always had agreements about boundaries in their relationships but now that everything is so public, the narrator gets her revenge by developing an infatuation with another much younger professor - Vladimir. He's a wildly successful, young and attractive novelist that arrives on campus with his wife and their child.
I generally enjoyed how the novel started - it was so promising. I enjoyed seeing an older woman embrace her sexuality and who she was. Her creativity started to blossom after her infatuation started. And I really appreciated how it took on things like relationships - the narrator and her husband seem the most solid even though their boundaries may be questionable, but the gender roles in the relationship are still so strict. She has his dinner on the table for him. Every night. No matter what. He took care of all the finances. But then we got the last third of the book and things just went completely off the rails in a way that I just couldn't get behind. I honestly wondered if the author felt like me - and just wanted to get to the end of the book in a rush and so ended it the way that she did.
Not my cup of tea, this one. Pass on it - you're not missing anything.






