I Have to Tell You Something

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An interesting premise and the first 150 pages or so are very good as we gradually discover more about Edward and Vanessa’s marriage, and the possible suspect list grows as some of Vanessa’s secrets are revealed.

Sometimes while Dad was gutting the fish, he’d brag to everyone that he had caught the biggest fish that day, and we’d immediately plunge into a playful argument over whose fish was biggest. The town of Glenbeg is reeling from the shocking deaths of Jimmy and Ursula Kennedy, a well liked local farmer and his rather less popular entrepreneur wife. As I was reading this book, I couldn’t help but think, ‘I wish I had had THIS when I was growing up! I mean, the song never mentioned the Dogman walking the woods looking for kids to eat during the day! It’s a perfect juxtaposition of ordinary and extraordinary, told with humor, compassion, and unshakable hope.As vivid memories rush back of another tragic death on the farm some years ago, a toxic secret is set to come to the surface, one that has been simmering for decades . Dad made sure I was fine to stay where I was alone and said he’d come back to pick me up in a little bit.

The last name Buttigieg (pronounced “BOOT-uh-jej”) is Maltese (from a small group of islands in the middle of the Mediterranean). Even if the meal was rushed because we needed to get somewhere after dinner, spending time as a family was important to my parents. My husband’s father immigrated to the United States from Malta in the 1970s, and I liked the name, so I decided to take it when we got married. What if I die at the age of thirteen on a rocky riverbank surrounded by nothing but mosquitoes and half-eaten Cheez-Its? His candor is refreshing, and it extends the success he had in humanizing his husband on the campaign trail.This particular torture reached its peak one Halloween when he put on a wolf mask, scaled a ladder up to my bedroom window, and scratched at the screen. The writing is good, and while all the characters are terribly middle-class in a trendy liberal sort of way, they’re reasonably well drawn. My mom and dad, Sherri and Terry Glezman, are loving, dedicated people who live for their friends and family; they always made sure their three children’s lives were full of little adventures (and some bigger ones). In a very mom way, she decorated our kitchen with those wall hangings that stated things like IT IS AROUND THIS TABLE WE UNDERSTAND BEST THE WARMTH OF BEING TOGETHER, and there is always a nice-smelling candle burning in the house.

And I agree about women in high-profile jobs who seem to be constantly distracted by romance, especially once they are out of their early 20s. The act of parking the truck, throwing on your backpack, and trudging through the rich, copper mud was thrilling. Sometimes, however, Mom would have me send invoices on the fax machine, and sending faxes was the most boring, tedious, and time-consuming task. Throughout my childhood, the Glezmans were a happy crew—always busy, always ready to help, and almost always together.

Rarely is whatever a bully has decided to focus on ever about the person being bullied (though that doesn’t justify the behavior! Not because I loved fishing or whatever competition I was in: I mostly wanted to prove to my parents and brothers that I wasn’t a wimp and that I could do hard things on my own. Mom taught me the important lesson that it’s not necessarily what’s on the table that matters, so much as who is sitting around it. We were blessed in many ways, and my parents made sure that we expressed our gratitude and appreciation for those blessings.