Marina Lewycka enjoys a refreshing rejection of the escapist fantasy
It lures you in by seeming to be one kind of novel; as you read on, you discover that it is really quite another.
In the opening scene, the recently widowed narrator, referred to throughout as Our Woman, confesses to her "grief counsellor" that she is plagued night and day by thoughts of naked men. The counsellor suggests that she should try vigorously scrubbing the kitchen floor. You guessed – it doesn't work. The images come back, but worse