Maureen Corrigan

I am taking something that our culture has stopped freely giving, the right to grieve, to shut out the world and its demands. I've come to realize that my life since Tony's death has been one endless, exhausting performance. I have cast myself in a role, woman being normal. I have not allowed myself the wild wideness of an elaborate, florid, demonstrative grief.

Instead, it has been this long feeling of constriction, of holding it in and tamping it down and not letting it show. Brooks is far from clueless about the privilege that enables such a retreat. She grew up, as she tells us, in a blue-collar neighborhood of Sydney, in a house where all the furniture was secondhand.

Instead, it has been this long feeling of constriction, of holding it in and tamping it down and not letting it show. Brooks is far from clueless about the privilege that enables such a retreat. She grew up, as she tells us, in a blue-collar neighborhood of Sydney, in a house where all the furniture was secondhand.

Instead, it has been this long feeling of constriction, of holding it in and tamping it down and not letting it show. Brooks is far from clueless about the privilege that enables such a retreat. She grew up, as she tells us, in a blue-collar neighborhood of Sydney, in a house where all the furniture was secondhand.

She arrived as a scholarship student at Columbia Journalism School, where she met Horowitz, and her life took a turn. The luxury of spending weeks alone in a cabin by the sea gives Brooks not only the time to grieve her husband, but also to grieve the life she might have lived had she never met him.

She arrived as a scholarship student at Columbia Journalism School, where she met Horowitz, and her life took a turn. The luxury of spending weeks alone in a cabin by the sea gives Brooks not only the time to grieve her husband, but also to grieve the life she might have lived had she never met him.

She arrived as a scholarship student at Columbia Journalism School, where she met Horowitz, and her life took a turn. The luxury of spending weeks alone in a cabin by the sea gives Brooks not only the time to grieve her husband, but also to grieve the life she might have lived had she never met him.

Given Brooke's own distinguished career as a novelist and journalist, it's no surprise Memorial Days is such a powerful testament of grief. But what is more of a surprise is the emergence of another subject, namely the tough reality of the writing life. Brooke says at one point that she thinks of Spying on the South as the book that killed Tony.

Given Brooke's own distinguished career as a novelist and journalist, it's no surprise Memorial Days is such a powerful testament of grief. But what is more of a surprise is the emergence of another subject, namely the tough reality of the writing life. Brooke says at one point that she thinks of Spying on the South as the book that killed Tony.

Given Brooke's own distinguished career as a novelist and journalist, it's no surprise Memorial Days is such a powerful testament of grief. But what is more of a surprise is the emergence of another subject, namely the tough reality of the writing life. Brooke says at one point that she thinks of Spying on the South as the book that killed Tony.

She recalls that to finish it on deadline, her husband chewed boxes of Nicorette gum, nibbled Provigil, the pill developed to keep fighter pilots alert, and drank pints of coffee. At night, he countered all the stimulants with wine. Wondering how she can practically sustain her life without Horowitz, Brooks is told by a financial advisor that she'll be okay as long as she just keeps writing.

She recalls that to finish it on deadline, her husband chewed boxes of Nicorette gum, nibbled Provigil, the pill developed to keep fighter pilots alert, and drank pints of coffee. At night, he countered all the stimulants with wine. Wondering how she can practically sustain her life without Horowitz, Brooks is told by a financial advisor that she'll be okay as long as she just keeps writing.

She recalls that to finish it on deadline, her husband chewed boxes of Nicorette gum, nibbled Provigil, the pill developed to keep fighter pilots alert, and drank pints of coffee. At night, he countered all the stimulants with wine. Wondering how she can practically sustain her life without Horowitz, Brooks is told by a financial advisor that she'll be okay as long as she just keeps writing.

There's the rub. Fortunately, Brooks was able to finish her stalled novel-in-progress Horse, which was published in 2022. And fortunately, she was able to go on to write Memorial Days, a book that not only pays tribute to a loving marriage between two successful writers, but also manages to be a clear-eyed assessment of the costs of that success.

There's the rub. Fortunately, Brooks was able to finish her stalled novel-in-progress Horse, which was published in 2022. And fortunately, she was able to go on to write Memorial Days, a book that not only pays tribute to a loving marriage between two successful writers, but also manages to be a clear-eyed assessment of the costs of that success.

There's the rub. Fortunately, Brooks was able to finish her stalled novel-in-progress Horse, which was published in 2022. And fortunately, she was able to go on to write Memorial Days, a book that not only pays tribute to a loving marriage between two successful writers, but also manages to be a clear-eyed assessment of the costs of that success.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel, only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche, but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability.