"Catherine Newman sees the heartbreak and comedy of life with wisdom
and unflinching compassion. The way she finds the extraordinary in the
everyday is nothing short of poetry. She's a writer's writer--and a
human's human."--New York Times bestselling author Katherine Center
"A riotously funny and fiercely loyal love letter to female
friendship. The story of Edi and Ash proves that a best friend is a gift
from the gods. Newman turns her prodigious talents toward finding joy
even in the friendship's final days. I laughed while crying, and was
left revived. Newman is a comic masterhand and a dazzling philosopher of
the day-to-day."--Amity Gaige, author of Sea Wife
"The funniest, most joyful book about dying--and living--that I have
ever read."--KJ Dell'Antonia, author of the New York Times bestselling
The Chicken Sisters
For lovers of Meg Wolitzer, Maria Semple, and Jenny Offill comes this
raucous, poignant celebration of life, love, and friendship at its
imperfect and radiant best.
Edith and Ashley have been best friends for over forty-two years.
They've shared the mundane and the momentous together: trick or treating
and binge drinking; Gilligan's Island reruns and REM concerts; hickeys
and heartbreak; surprise Scottish wakes; marriages, infertility, and
children. As Ash says, "Edi's memory is like the back-up hard drive for
mine."
But now the unthinkable has happened. Edi is dying of ovarian cancer and
spending her last days at a hospice near Ash, who stumbles into
heartbreak surrounded by her daughters, ex(ish) husband, dear friends, a
poorly chosen lover (or two), and a rotating cast of beautifully,
fleetingly human hospice characters.
As The Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack blasts all day long from the
room next door, Edi and Ash reminisce, hold on, and try to let go.
Meanwhile, Ash struggles with being an imperfect friend, wife, and
parent--with life, in other words, distilled to its heartbreaking,
joyful, and comedic essence.
For anyone who's ever lost a friend or had one. Get ready to laugh
through your tears.
