Some parts in the single life

242 sayfa. 11x17.5 cm
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Jimmy Miller's second novel squanders too much time on half a dozen single women, of unexceptional intelligence, playing musical beds in Manhattan. Two‐thirds of “Some Parts in the Single Life” are devoted to mate‐stealing, mate‐swapping, one‐night stands, the same old tunes on the same old organs, and smart talk. (Radical political opinions pad Mrs. Miller's book as opinions about cars, guns, clothes and drinks padded Ian Fleming's comic strips; sort of stylistic tic.) There's a lot of noisy desperation looking for, and never finding, an excuse for a transcendental tantrum. If the people are more interesting than Rona Jaffe's automata, and less monstrous than Lois Gould's nyktomorphs, they are nonetheless fatiguing.
But—and this is a transcendental but—on page 159 Mrs. Miller shifts into another, higher gear, with what appears to be an interior monologue by Mrs. Miller, brooding on her characters, her friends, her late hu

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