Maureen Corrigan

His latest novel, Mothers and Sons, is too beautifully written to pass over, too smart about how secrets feed on time, perversely taking up more room in our lives as the years go by. We first meet Peter Fisher, the adult lawyer's son, in the midst of one of his overwhelming work days.

His job, as Peter ruefully sees it, is to force his clients, people who've experienced violence in other countries, to go over and over the worst thing that ever happened to them. Peter then shapes their harrowing and often convoluted stories into a narrative that will hopefully persuade a judge to grant them asylum.

His job, as Peter ruefully sees it, is to force his clients, people who've experienced violence in other countries, to go over and over the worst thing that ever happened to them. Peter then shapes their harrowing and often convoluted stories into a narrative that will hopefully persuade a judge to grant them asylum.

His job, as Peter ruefully sees it, is to force his clients, people who've experienced violence in other countries, to go over and over the worst thing that ever happened to them. Peter then shapes their harrowing and often convoluted stories into a narrative that will hopefully persuade a judge to grant them asylum.

A gay man, Peter limits himself to sporadic hookups that don't interfere with his work, work, work. Occasionally, Peter finds himself thinking back to a question he was asked by an older lawyer at his long-ago job interview. What if, in the big picture, you aren't actually helping?

A gay man, Peter limits himself to sporadic hookups that don't interfere with his work, work, work. Occasionally, Peter finds himself thinking back to a question he was asked by an older lawyer at his long-ago job interview. What if, in the big picture, you aren't actually helping?

A gay man, Peter limits himself to sporadic hookups that don't interfere with his work, work, work. Occasionally, Peter finds himself thinking back to a question he was asked by an older lawyer at his long-ago job interview. What if, in the big picture, you aren't actually helping?

What if you're a bureaucrat in an endless moral disaster, but if you walk away, the disaster will be a tiny bit worse? Will you still do it? Peter didn't know then, and doesn't know now, what the value of his work is in the big picture of things. That is, until a new client, a 21-year-old gay Albanian man seeking asylum on the grounds of his sexual orientation, pushes Peter into a crisis.

What if you're a bureaucrat in an endless moral disaster, but if you walk away, the disaster will be a tiny bit worse? Will you still do it? Peter didn't know then, and doesn't know now, what the value of his work is in the big picture of things. That is, until a new client, a 21-year-old gay Albanian man seeking asylum on the grounds of his sexual orientation, pushes Peter into a crisis.

What if you're a bureaucrat in an endless moral disaster, but if you walk away, the disaster will be a tiny bit worse? Will you still do it? Peter didn't know then, and doesn't know now, what the value of his work is in the big picture of things. That is, until a new client, a 21-year-old gay Albanian man seeking asylum on the grounds of his sexual orientation, pushes Peter into a crisis.

While meeting with him, Peter feels a sudden deep fatigue, strong as a potion. He subsequently locks himself out of his apartment twice and experiences vertigo. A memory is forcing its way to the surface that impels Peter to contact his mother, Anne. She's the woman who runs that retreat center.

While meeting with him, Peter feels a sudden deep fatigue, strong as a potion. He subsequently locks himself out of his apartment twice and experiences vertigo. A memory is forcing its way to the surface that impels Peter to contact his mother, Anne. She's the woman who runs that retreat center.

While meeting with him, Peter feels a sudden deep fatigue, strong as a potion. He subsequently locks himself out of his apartment twice and experiences vertigo. A memory is forcing its way to the surface that impels Peter to contact his mother, Anne. She's the woman who runs that retreat center.

Anne and Peter have been quietly distanced for decades, ever since she left Peter's father for her current partner, a woman. But as it turns out, the estrangement between this mother and son is rooted in something much more devastating.

Anne and Peter have been quietly distanced for decades, ever since she left Peter's father for her current partner, a woman. But as it turns out, the estrangement between this mother and son is rooted in something much more devastating.

Anne and Peter have been quietly distanced for decades, ever since she left Peter's father for her current partner, a woman. But as it turns out, the estrangement between this mother and son is rooted in something much more devastating.

I fear I'm flattening Mothers and Sons into a melodrama when instead it's Hazlett's appreciation of the all-too-human mess of life that makes his writing so arresting, his characters and storylines so authentic. Midway through the novel, Hazlett bends the narrative back in time to Peter's adolescence, an era when coming out felt riskier, especially to Peter himself.

I fear I'm flattening Mothers and Sons into a melodrama when instead it's Hazlett's appreciation of the all-too-human mess of life that makes his writing so arresting, his characters and storylines so authentic. Midway through the novel, Hazlett bends the narrative back in time to Peter's adolescence, an era when coming out felt riskier, especially to Peter himself.

I fear I'm flattening Mothers and Sons into a melodrama when instead it's Hazlett's appreciation of the all-too-human mess of life that makes his writing so arresting, his characters and storylines so authentic. Midway through the novel, Hazlett bends the narrative back in time to Peter's adolescence, an era when coming out felt riskier, especially to Peter himself.

Remembering the night he first had sex with another man, an indifferent stranger, the adult Peter thinks to himself, how full of shame it is to be lonely. Hazlett scatters such sentences throughout this novel, sentences that can make you stop and go down emotional rabbit holes of your own.