I celebrated a Big Birthday this month.  We put many, many candles on the cupcakes, but it was too windy to light them.

There was singing. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…”

“Happy Birthday to me…”

After a long walk my husband laid down his head on a picnic table and gently snored.  I skootched next to him and read Mary McCarthy’s A Charmed Life, a brilliant satiric novel about life in an artists’ colony in New England. Martha, an aspiring playwright, reluctantly renews her relationship with her domineering ex-husband, Miles. Both are remarried, but he is determined to seduce her. The place abounds with writers, artists, and spouses who drink too much at parties and criticize each other’s lack of talent.  They’re fascinated by the relationship between Martha and MIles.

Such a fun book to read! But McCarthy’s satire was so pungent that she didn’t dare  return to Wellfleet.

I can’t quite imagine the artists’ colony, but I’ll read anything by Mary McCarthy.