She felt ashamed of her suspicions and objections. She didn’t like to remember or slip back into that unpleasant frame of mind. It reminded her of too much and threatened the peace she had made with her past. Signed, “your old Edward still remembering.”

Take your time, he said, scribble a few words, whatever pops into your head. She could help him too, for in spite of its merits he was afraid the novel lacked something. She was the best critic he ever had, he said. He wanted to show her, let her read and see, judge for herself. How much he had learned about life and craft. Now in his letter he said, damn! but this book is good. It was touchy, her embarrassment, his resentment.

He was a beginner and she a tougher critic than she meant to be. In the unrealistic days of their marriage there was a question whether she should read what he wrote. But she thought he had given up writing later when he went into insurance. It was the chief cause of trouble between them. She remembered he had wanted to write, stories, poems, sketches, anything in words, she remembered it well. He had written a book, a novel, and would she like to read it? Susan was shocked because, except for Christmas cards from his second wife signed “Love,” she hadn’t heard from Edward in twenty years. This goes back to the letter Susan Morrow’s first husband Edward sent her last September. Take a look before you buy…read more excerpts at Kirkus with Bed by David Whitehouse. Now, Grand Central is republishing the work Stateside. It was first published in 1993 to much acclaim in the UK and then went on to sell in 15 languages in 17 territories. That’s the case for Tony and Susan, the story of a divorced couple-a writer husband who sends his ex-wife a manuscript about a family trip gone violently awry-for her feedback. Sometimes older books get a vicarious second life.

Tony and susan book