Jonathan Tropper’s novel The Book of Joe dazzled critics and readers alike with its heartfelt blend of humor and pathos. Now Tropper brings all that–and more–to an irresistible new novel. In Everything Changes, Tropper delivers a touching, wickedly funny new tale about love, loss, and the perils of a well-planned life.
To all appearances, Zachary King is a man with luck on his side. A steady, well-paying job, a rent-free Manhattan apartment, and Hope, his stunning, blue-blooded fiancée: smart, sexy, and completely out of his league. But as the wedding day looms, Zack finds himself haunted by the memory of his best friend, Rael, killed in a car wreck two years earlier–and by his increasingly complicated feelings for Tamara, the beautiful widow Rael left behind.
Then Norm–Zack’s freewheeling, Viagra-popping father–resurfaces after a twenty-year absence, looking to make amends. Norm’s overbearing, often outrageous efforts to reestablish ties with his sons infuriate Zack, and yet, despite twenty years of bad blood, he finds something compelling in his father’s maniacal determination to transform his own life. Inspired by Norm, Zack boldly attempts to make some changes of his own, and the results are instantly calamitous. Soon fists are flying, his love life is a shambles, and his once carefully structured existence is spinning hopelessly out of control.
Charged with intelligence and razor sharp wit, Everything Changes is at once hilarious, moving, sexy, and wise–a work of transcendent storytelling from an exciting new talent.
From the Hardcover edition.
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|Title of eBook: Everything Changes|
|Release Date: 03-29-2005|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Everything Changes|
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the night before everything changes, an earthquake jolts me out of my sleep and I instinctively reach over for Tamara, but it isn’t Tamara, of course, it’s Hope. There was never even a time when it might have been Tamara. And yet, lately, whenever I wake up, my first, dazed instinct, before real life comes back into focus, is to assume it’s Tamara in the bed beside me. I suppose that in my dreams, not the one or two that I can recall, but the millions that vanish into oblivion like flies when you’ve barely even begun to move your cupped, ready hand in their direction, in those dreams, she must be mine, over and over again. So there’s always this vaguely troubling notion when I wake up like this, this sense that I’ve somehow been transported to an alternate universe where my life took a left instead of a right because of some seemingly insignificant yet cosmically crucial choice I made, about a girl or a kiss or a date or a job or which Starbucks I went into . . . something.
Meanwhile, back in real life, the Upper West Side of Manhattan trembles like a subway platform, rattling windows and uprooting corner trash cans, the shrill wail of multiple car alarms rising up over Broadway, piercing the night at its stillest, in the hour just preceding dawn.
“Zack!” Hope shouts, reaching out urgently for me, the volume of her voice almost as startling as the quake, her manicured nails slicing painfully into my shoulder. Hope, not Tamara. That’s right. Beautiful Hope. I open my eyes and say, “What the hell?” It’s the best I can manage under the circumstances. We look up at the ceiling as the bed sh