In my long ago school days, when I was reading a book I particularly enjoyed  I would walk home  reading it. It was a quiet half hour when  I could slip into another fascinating  world.

No homework, no house chores, no interruptions.

Simply the magic of living another life.





I knew I could stay in this town when I found the blue enamel pot floating in the lake.  The pot led me to the house, the house led me to the book, the book to the lawyer, the lawyer to the whorehouse, the whorehouse to science, and from science I joined the world.”

So begins Leslie Daniels disarming and appealing novel about a woman rebuilding her life.  CLEANING NABOKOV’S HOUSE is prose elegantly written – filled  with bits of razor-sharp deadly wit,  sex,  food,  money and motherhood.

One usually writes about book after one has  read it. Except I found myself carrying this book from room to room.  Practically reading bits and pieces while I walked.   This novel so grabbed me with pleasures on every page that   sixty-nine pages into this novel I had to write and tell you about it.   It is sixty-nine pages of dead-on funny storytelling.  Not the kind of funny that you feel is forced and clever  and should laugh.   But funny in a black humour self-deprecating kind of way. Funny they way you often  think about things but never voice them.

It’s a beguiling story of a woman who walks out on a loveless marriage –   a thirty-nine year old divorced mother of two, an unpublished manuscript by Vladimir Nabokov, and a journey that is  deliciously passionate, darkly comic and wise.

I’m off for my afternoon walk down to the river.  Perhaps I’ll take my book  and  read  page seventy  of CLEANING NABOKOV’S HOUSE.






    • In all reality Lori I don’t think I could walk down a road reading either. Given my age! Growing up in a small town that only had sidewalks in the business area we walked in the road. No pavement, no curbs and seldom any cars. Perfect for a book-worm to work walk and read. V.

    • This morning instead of writing in my journal I had to return to this book. My coffee grew cold as I returned to page seventy and began reading. The heroine, cash short, rescued the pot, cleaned it, and cooked pasta in it. The first step in reclaiming her life. Every page is such a delight. I am now on page 147 and I do believe she is starting out on a rather revolutionary business venture. V.

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