I Can’t Complain unfair to Lipman’s talent for poking fun at herself. On the issue of patience, she relates how it took 20 years to see one of her novels made into a movie. The final third of the book becomes more opinionated in a gentle way ~ one doubts Lipman could be didactic or nasty ~ with a dig at a common assumption that men and women have to share their interests. In Boy Meets Girl, she snorts at an episode on the Oprah Winfrey show that examined the attitudes of unhappy bachelors in Alaska with their complaints. Too few women fit their requirements. They wanted gals who loved hunting, fishing, camping, and riding snowmobiles. Oprah did not question their preferences, Lipman noted, nor their firm belief that “eligibles that dogsled together, bed together...” Nonsense, writes the ultimate urban citizen. Men should by nature do what they do, and women follow their own choices, not expecting her partner to love knitting just because she finds it relaxing. Romance is one thing: romantic nonsense is quite another. Lipman’s critique of weddings, br ide z i l l a s , br ide sm a id s , c on spicuous consumption, etc. are the follies that may account for disappointment and the high divorce rate, she warns. Her marriage was a happy one,
ending ultimately when her husband died of two dreadful diseases, a rare type of dementia, followed by ALS, Lou Gherig’s Disease. He died at age 58. Now, at the age of 61, three years after her husband’s death, she has a gentleman friend. She calls the relationship with “John Doe” a nomance ~ platonic pleasure made up of good conversation, an occasional movie, dinner out and companionship. She makes it clear that she does not appreciate prodding from women friends “who all want to be bridesmaids” and want to know if the friendship has “advanced to a stage requir ing new undergar ments.” No, she says, and may never. Her response to them is mainly a request for them to butt out. The whole book is a treat, a generous gift from a wonderful woman. It’s a read-it-again-slowly kind of book. Funny, sweet and completely nice. Don’t pass it by. Anne Stinson began her career in the 1950s as a free lance for the now defunct Baltimore News-American, then later for Chesapeake Publishing, the Baltimore Sun and Maryland Public Television’s panel show, Maryland Newsrap. Now in her ninth decade, she still writes a monthly book review for Tidewater Times.
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