“This book is provocative, engaging, disheartening, infuriating, chaotic, wise, and absolutely terrific. Its thoroughly miserable slow-burn of a beginning gives way to a surreal, deranged experience that I still haven’t decided is meant to be delusion, healing, or good old magical realism.
Awad puts you so deep into the psyche of this (miserable, maligned, paranoid, disregarded) woman that not only will you feel every bit of her pain, you’ll also question everything that happens as much as she does.
You will want to throw this book at the wall, have vivid imaginings of knocking some sense into the main character, see parts of yourself in the main character, and want to throw in the towel all within the first half of the book. Don’t do it! Seriously. The payoff is extraordinary.”
From the critically acclaimed author of Bunny, a darkly funny novel about a theater professor suffering chronic pain, who in the process of staging a troubled production of Shakespeare’s most maligned play, suddenly and miraculously recovers.
Miranda Fitch’s life is a waking nightmare. The accident that ended her burgeoning acting career left her with excruciating, chronic back pain, a failed marriage, and a deepening dependence on painkillers. And now she’s on the verge of losing her job as a college theater director. Determined to put on Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well, the play that promised, and cost, her everything, she faces a mutinous cast hellbent on staging Macbeth instead. Miranda sees her chance at redemption slip through her fingers.
That’s when she meets three strange benefactors who have an eerie knowledge of Miranda’s past and a tantalizing promise for her future: one where the show goes on, her rebellious students get what’s coming to them, and the invisible, doubted pain that’s kept her from the spotlight is made known.
With prose Margaret Atwood has described as “no punches pulled, no hilarities dodged…genius,” Mona Awad has concocted her most potent, subversive novel yet. All’s Well is the story of a woman at her breaking point and a formidable, piercingly funny indictment of our collective refusal to witness and believe female pain.