I didn’t know Anne Tyler was still writing books. I had many hours to kill at an airport recently, and a bookshop had a buy-three-get-one-free thing going. I don’t have the time to read three books (plus that one-free book) – but when has that stopped me? So I looked up, I looked down. I found nothing. I got so desperate to find four books (stupid me, like I couldn’t just buy one, like I had to buy four just because of that stupid offer) that I started considering things like The Monk Who Sold His Rolls-Royce… or whatever. I have nothing against this type of book – or Robin Sharma. In fact, I think bald writers are completely awesome. (I may know of one myself.) But still… It’s not a book I’d buy, you know? And then, tucked away in a corner, I saw the new Anne Tyler. A Spool of Blue Thread. The placement of the book was as understated as her writing. I bought just that one book, and am now about 120 pages in. Bliss.
PS: I first encountered Tyler after watching The Accidental Tourist in… my early 20s, I guess? I loved the film so much and loved the protagonist so much that I sought the book out. That man, that emotionally distant writer, was me. (It’s a little scary to realise that I thought of myself as ’emotionally distant’ in my early 20s.) I couldn’t believe a woman had written so acutely about a man, though today, I don’t make these gendered generalisations anymore.
PPS: Just felt like a bitty revival was overdue.