
Rafael Yglesias’ A Happy Marriage is not beach reading, but it is must reading for every tomato this summer
by Ronna Lichtenberg
Alternating between scenes describing the first three months of his relationship with Margaret, and the last three months of her losing battle with bladder cancer, Yglesias somehow manages to capture the mystery, nuance, tedium, fluctuations, and joy of an almost three-decade-long marriage.
After too many years of reading women’s magazine articles about what “he” really thinks, I was somberly grateful to find out what one “he” really did think. Yglesias’ unflinching courage in revealing the inevitable small disappointments of self completely avoids the look-at-me show turns of routine misery memoirs.
Written as an autobiographical novel, the book combines a screenwriter’s instinct for revealing detail with the uncalculated impact of a story that is emotionally true instead of “real life.”
I wish there were a less predictable thing to say than that the book made me laugh and it chocked me up so much I often I had to put it down. My only regret is that Margaret couldn’t read it, too.




