There were most excellent speeches from both sides, and then McCarthy's father called me out of the crow. Yoikes. I said something lame like hi and begged off until the morrow, by which time I would have finished writing the thing.
I got to meet Haitch's grandmother, her handsome, entrancingly voiced, well-named cousin, and millions of McCarthy's friends-and-relations. McCarthy Mater and I had bonded over brunch when we established that of course I know the family who keep the B&B in Old Lyme where the McCarthy parents occasionally weekend, and now I mingled up to her where she stood with a friend.
"Friend, let me introduce you to Lisa," Mater said.
"Oh, are you the mother of the bride?" Friend asked.
Even with my crest fallen as far as that bon mot dropped it, I like to think I do not quite look like I could be the mother of a 31-year-old. I mocked sobbing and gnashing my teeth on Mater's shoulder. Friend was embarrassed, pleading that she had meant to say "sister," not "mother" (which is good, because Friend had met Haitch's mother at the engagement party in October).
It was a fun night. Remind me to get a copy of Richard's toast. It is an excess of "Sense and Sensibility" in my head that makes me think his line was "Let not to the marriage of Brahmin and Okie admit impediment" but it was pretty good.
The author's name, Molly Gloss, reminds me of Molly Zero and her webblog Polygloss, and Jessie recommended it, so it was a very journaly book. Its setting evoked Annie Dillard's The Living and its protagonist reminded me...well, not of me, though she did Jessie of me, which I took as a tremendous compliment...of someone I wanted to be. Good hair, of course. Also of Peter Høeg's Woman and the Ape, but only because of the unknown simian angle. While again the journal format is not credible for the storytelling style or pace, whatever, I should learn to overlook that.
This book with its sasquatches finds itself in the genre debate. Is it magical realism? Speculative fiction? I don't have the vocabulary for this debate.