Abe and Jane really do love each other, though they have their differences. Abe is pragmatic, in that while he does want to write, he also sees the necessity of maintaining his family business in order for them to have a reliable livelihood. Jane cannot deny her artistic expression, and makes art from all varieties of media. Abe is also mostly responsible to seeing to their son, Max, throughout Jane’s postpartum depression, which is both good and harmful to some extent. Now that Jane is in her decline from cancer, Abe is expressing his undying love for her through this story.
It took me a minute to dive into this book, as the writing begins in first person, almost as a love letter from Abe to Jane. He reminds her of their beginning, when they met. He reminds her of how she inspired him and encouraged his writing. And the repetition of these reminders becomes almost a poem, an ode to his love. On the other hand, the chapters written from Max’s perspective are harsher, even cruder, as this is more true to Max’s personality. There is a fineness of writing, a beauty in the words themselves, even as the story develops and expands in the subtlest of ways.
What is also unique is that Central Park, yes the enormous park at the heart of Manhattan, becomes almost another character in the story. There are intervening chapters that provide details of its origins, verbal maps of its gorgeous terrain and treasures, and descriptions of the scenes one might encounter in its many varied locations within. It also serves as a literal grounding for Jane and Abe, bringing them back to their origin story, reminding them of their love for each other and the memories they’ve created together.
The beauty of the writing, the characters who grow and become three-dimensional, and the narrative itself is all so unique that I would recommend this book just as an exercise in learning what writing can become.
