I could not put this book down—a quick read, compelling but not complex, an engaging story, a likeable main character, and detailed descriptions of both physical and mental spaces (also, 24 hours of sideways snow here). Its plot and characters could so easily be cliche, and yet they feel fresh and unique and relevant.

Meet Casey. She’s 31, lives in a potting shed, carries $73,000 in student debt from undergrad and grad school, works as a waitress (mid 1990s, so that’s her title) in a Cambridge restaurant where plenty of bullying and sexual harassment–as well as camaraderie and friendship–are served up daily, she’s in her 6th year of writing a novel, and she’s had a long string of unsuccessful relationships. Also, her mom recently died at 58, and her dad creeped on high school girls.

She cries into the napkins, sits in the walk-in cooler staring at the dairy shelves, rides her bike across town to work every day, communes with geese on her route, and likes the mindless distractions at work, “the way there is no room to remember anything about your life except that the osso bucco goes to the man in the bow tie and the lavender flan to the birthday girl in pink and the side cars to the student couple with fake IDs.” She considers a day without a panic attack a victory. 

She’s the type of character I’d be likely to think make a change, get on with your life, stop spinning your wheels in the mud, get health insurance. Instead, I admired her passion for writing, her willingness to stick it out and endure the grit along the way, her lack of self-pity. Not that she hasn’t made some poor choices in men and some wasted opportunities, but she doesn’t wallow in them. She gets back on her banana seat bike, notices the geese, works a double shift, walks her landlord’s dog for a slight cut in the rent, and writes.

Once, she was an all American golfer with a full ride at Duke. But those clubs reminded her too much of her dad and his lockerroom peeping, so she never picked them up again. 

I couldn’t help but bond with the final chapter where Casey’s participating in—and a part of— writing workshop day for high school students, and they are using the exact same prompts that I have used. Truly, it made me miss teaching, watching those students tear into their writing notebooks and scribble out words, images, ideas, emotions…learning about William Carlos Williams and his advice of “NO IDEAS BUT IN THINGS,” a quote still on the wall in my classroom. But alas this book takes place in the 90s–no AI or cell phones and nascent internet. Teaching was different back then. They’re even teaching my all time favorite Their Eyes Were Watching God, a curriculum regular that’s far too challenging nowadays. 

Some readers feel the ending of this book is a bit too neat and tidy, but I’m okay with it. We’re cheering for her all the way through, wincing at her circumstances and wondering who could endure so much. When her therapist asks her what she’s really scared of, she replies “If I can’t even handle this right now, how will I be able to handle bigger things in the future?” He nods and lists everything she has gone through in the last several years, and then says “this is not nothing.” And that is reassuring enough.

I’ve not read King’s other books, including her earlier best seller Euphoria, but I’m sure to pick up more of her work.