Landline
by Rainbow Rowell
I loved this book, even though on the surface, it seemed like I wouldn’t. In general, I don’t tend to enjoy fantasy/science fiction, and in general, because of where I am in my life, I find it difficult to identify or root for middle-aged women with children. However, this time-traveling fantasy was entertaining, hilarious, and highly recommended by yours truly.
A woman with a challenging job, two typically needy children, and a marriage that’s lost its luster, reaches an impasse. The ageless question of “What if?” enters her mind as she starts to doubt her life choices, and in particular, her decision to marry her college sweetheart. Now, the fantasy element of the story appears: Georgie, the protagonist, visits her childhood home, and in a wallowing moment of nostalgia, she picks up her old landline phone. All of a sudden, she’s entered a portal fifteen years in the past, to the time right before she became engaged back in college. How is this happening, and why? And as the phone calls continue, will she be able to change her present through the past?
This book is so funny, and the details from Georgie’s job are so spot-on, I’d be surprised if Rainbow Rowell hadn’t used some of her own experiences. Check out this passage below for Rowell’s description of Georgie’s children; rarely have I read such an accurate description of motherhood. If you like the humor and realism, you’ll like the novel. I didn’t happen to like the ending, but you can’t have everything.
“Daddy said I could wear my boots,” Alice croaked.
“Where are they?” Georgie whispered.
“Daddy knows.”
They woke Noomi up, looking for them.
Then Noomi wanted her boots.
Then Georgie offered to get them yogurt, but Neal said they’d eat at the airport; he’d packed snacks.
He let Georgie explain why she wasn’t getting on the plane with them—“Are you driving instead?” Alice asked—while he ran up and down the stairs, and in and out the front door, double-checking things and rounding up bags.
Georgie tried to tell the girls that they’d be having such a good time, they’d hardly miss her—and that they’d all celebrate together next week. “We’ll have two Christmases,” Georgie said.
“I don’t think that’s actually possible,” Alice argued.
Noomi started crying because her sock was turned the wrong way around her toes. Georgie couldn’t tell if she wanted it seam-on-the-bottom or seam-on-top. Neal came in from the garage and whipped off Noomi’s boot to fix it. “Car’s here,” he said.
[. . .]
“You’re the best mommy in the world,” Noomi said. Everything was always “the best” and “the worst” with Noomi. Everything was “never” and “always.”
“And you are the best four-year-old girl in the world,” Georgie said, smashing her nose with a kiss.
“Kitty,” Noomi said. She was still tearful from the sock problem.
“You are the best kitty in the world.” Georgie tucked Noomi’s wispy yellow-brown hair behind her ear and pulled her T-shirt smooth over her belly.
“Green kitty.”
“The best green kitty.”
“Meow,” Noomi said.
“Meow,” Georgie answered.
“Mom?” Alice asked.
“Yeah?” Georgie pulled the seven-year-old closer—“Here, give me all your hugs”—but Alice was too busy thinking to hug back.
“If Santa brings your presents to Grandma’s house, I’ll save them for you. I’ll put them in my suitcase.”
“Santa doesn’t usually bring Mommy presents.”
“Well, but if he does…”
“Meow,” Noomi said.
“Okay,” Georgie agreed, holding Alice in her left arm and scooping Noomi close with her right, “if he brings me presents, you can take care of them for me.”
“Mommy, meow!”
“Meow,” Georgie said, squeezing them both.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Alice.”
“The true meaning of Christmas isn’t presents anyway, it’s Jesus. But not for us, because we’re not religious. The true meaning of Christmas for us is just family.”
Georgie kissed her cheek. “That’s true.”
“I know.”
“Okay. I love you. I love you both so much.”
“To the moon and back?” Alice asked.
“Oh my God,” Georgie said, “so much farther.”
“To the moon and back infinity?”
“Meow!”
“Meow,” Georgie said. “Infinity times infinity. I love you so much, it hurts.”
Noomi’s face fell. “It hurts?”
“She doesn’t mean it literally,” Alice said. “Right, Mom? Not literally?”
“No. Well. Sometimes.”
A woman with a challenging job, two typically needy children, and a marriage that’s lost its luster, reaches an impasse. The ageless question of “What if?” enters her mind as she starts to doubt her life choices, and in particular, her decision to marry her college sweetheart. Now, the fantasy element of the story appears: Georgie, the protagonist, visits her childhood home, and in a wallowing moment of nostalgia, she picks up her old landline phone. All of a sudden, she’s entered a portal fifteen years in the past, to the time right before she became engaged back in college. How is this happening, and why? And as the phone calls continue, will she be able to change her present through the past?
This book is so funny, and the details from Georgie’s job are so spot-on, I’d be surprised if Rainbow Rowell hadn’t used some of her own experiences. Check out this passage below for Rowell’s description of Georgie’s children; rarely have I read such an accurate description of motherhood. If you like the humor and realism, you’ll like the novel. I didn’t happen to like the ending, but you can’t have everything.
“Daddy said I could wear my boots,” Alice croaked.
“Where are they?” Georgie whispered.
“Daddy knows.”
They woke Noomi up, looking for them.
Then Noomi wanted her boots.
Then Georgie offered to get them yogurt, but Neal said they’d eat at the airport; he’d packed snacks.
He let Georgie explain why she wasn’t getting on the plane with them—“Are you driving instead?” Alice asked—while he ran up and down the stairs, and in and out the front door, double-checking things and rounding up bags.
Georgie tried to tell the girls that they’d be having such a good time, they’d hardly miss her—and that they’d all celebrate together next week. “We’ll have two Christmases,” Georgie said.
“I don’t think that’s actually possible,” Alice argued.
Noomi started crying because her sock was turned the wrong way around her toes. Georgie couldn’t tell if she wanted it seam-on-the-bottom or seam-on-top. Neal came in from the garage and whipped off Noomi’s boot to fix it. “Car’s here,” he said.
[. . .]
“You’re the best mommy in the world,” Noomi said. Everything was always “the best” and “the worst” with Noomi. Everything was “never” and “always.”
“And you are the best four-year-old girl in the world,” Georgie said, smashing her nose with a kiss.
“Kitty,” Noomi said. She was still tearful from the sock problem.
“You are the best kitty in the world.” Georgie tucked Noomi’s wispy yellow-brown hair behind her ear and pulled her T-shirt smooth over her belly.
“Green kitty.”
“The best green kitty.”
“Meow,” Noomi said.
“Meow,” Georgie answered.
“Mom?” Alice asked.
“Yeah?” Georgie pulled the seven-year-old closer—“Here, give me all your hugs”—but Alice was too busy thinking to hug back.
“If Santa brings your presents to Grandma’s house, I’ll save them for you. I’ll put them in my suitcase.”
“Santa doesn’t usually bring Mommy presents.”
“Well, but if he does…”
“Meow,” Noomi said.
“Okay,” Georgie agreed, holding Alice in her left arm and scooping Noomi close with her right, “if he brings me presents, you can take care of them for me.”
“Mommy, meow!”
“Meow,” Georgie said, squeezing them both.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Alice.”
“The true meaning of Christmas isn’t presents anyway, it’s Jesus. But not for us, because we’re not religious. The true meaning of Christmas for us is just family.”
Georgie kissed her cheek. “That’s true.”
“I know.”
“Okay. I love you. I love you both so much.”
“To the moon and back?” Alice asked.
“Oh my God,” Georgie said, “so much farther.”
“To the moon and back infinity?”
“Meow!”
“Meow,” Georgie said. “Infinity times infinity. I love you so much, it hurts.”
Noomi’s face fell. “It hurts?”
“She doesn’t mean it literally,” Alice said. “Right, Mom? Not literally?”
“No. Well. Sometimes.”