“So begins The Doctor’s Wife, a stunning debut novel about four people and the cataclysmic intersection of their lives. Michael is a rising OB/GYN at a prominent private practice in Albany, New York; he also moonlights at a local women’s health clinic. But Annie, his wife, has become tired of her workaholic husband’s absences, and the soccer-mom lifestyle has worn thin. She begins a passionate love affair with bad-boy, fading celebrity painter Simon Haas—an affair that quickly goes awry when Simon’s wife Lydia, who is also the model upon whom he built his career, discovers the truth.
Abortion, local evangelism, marital disenchantment, and the rifts of social class: Brundage takes on the fault lines of our era with a deft hand.“
The Doctor’s Wife is a rare instance of DNF for me. I got halfway through the novel, and had to simply stop. Brundage’s writing style isn’t bad, although she seems fond of dropping cuss words into intellectual adult conservation for seemingly no reason, but the characters are ridiculously stupid.
All four act like teenagers: no impulse control, wildly self-absorbed, manipulative, and sullen. In fact, none of the adults in this fictional town appear to have any ability to reasonably disagree with another human being, have an open mind or depth of personality, relate to anyone outside of the town….I kept expecting some sort of Stepford Wives scenario to unravel itself and explain this shallowness.
In the end, it was just too hard for me to muster any desire to follow a trainwreck story about four adults that I roundly disliked in every way.