On the inside front cover flap, As Husbands Go by Susan Isaacs is described as "a rare mix of wit, social satire, and suspense...an irresistible story about a love that just won't give up." Happily, the book lived up to this description.
From Publishers Weekly (via amazon)
Bestseller Isaacs draws on tony Long Island, gritty New York City, and a tabloid-friendly murder for this smart-alecky whodunit/surprisingly sweet love story. Susan is left alone with her three boys, big suburban house, and nagging questions when plastic surgeon hubby Jonah Gersten turns up dead in a hooker's Upper East Side apartment. Though the police and prosecutors wind up their case against call girl Dorinda Dillon, it's far from settled for Susan. It simply didn't add up, in either my head or my heart, she confesses. And what better sidekick to track down the truth than Susan's rogue granny, Ethel. What follows is an intricate and fascinating dissection of Susan's marriage, family, husband's medical practice and partners, and the unwitting call girl at the center of it all. Isaacs (Past Perfect) brings it all together in this fast and furious ride through wanton greed, fragile relationships, and love worth fighting for.
Ms. Isaacs is the author of twelve novels; however, As Husbands Go was my first experience with reading one of her books, and an excellent one at that. At first, I was put off by the stylish name dropping and scene setting, thinking, "Oh, here we go. Another Gucci-Manolo Blanik laden story." But not so. Oh, there were style references aplenty written with pointed lifestyle skewering--not snarky, just obvious.
I'll be looking to catch up on previous titles from Susan Isaacs as well as anticipating her next book.
Rating: 3.5/5 (Mystery Scale)
Dedication: To St. Catherine and Bob Morvillo with love.
Here, take this gift,
I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or general,
One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea, the
progress and freedom of the race,
Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel;
But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as
much as to any.
-Walt Whitman, "To a Certain Cantatrice," Leaves of Grass
First Line: Who knew?
Visit the author's website here.
Click here to read a review on Bookreporter.com