While Anne Tyler's story is very nice, I found the illustrations to be far more engaging. There are hidden surprises in almost every page, and the characters are wittily, handsomely, and endearingly brought to life in a style that almost resembles the Saturday morning series "Angela Anaconda."

The kids will love having this book read to them again and again, and there's enough treasures spread throughout to make the parents most happy to oblige.

Rrose... highlights most of the key issues within gender discourse as depicted through photography: gender hierarchy, origination of gender, androgyny and indifferentiation, and gender tension (both masculine and feminine manifestations).

Especially provocative are the works of Matthew Barney. However, all the works included provide a strong case for the necessity of higher states of gender-consciousness.

This book cannot, and should not, be easily dismissed.

He's the perfect hero for a novel of the nineties--"a medium kind of guy, all in all," attractive, laid back and fundamentally nice. Also fundamentally ineffectual. His guilt drives him off the track of modest middle-class success and into a quasi-Christian cult, where destiny is clearly drawn for him: the opportunity to earn salvation by caring for the children of his dead brother.

Anne Tyler sets modest goals, and surpasses them. Her characters are sympathetic and winsome enough to draw a reader into their lives, though unlikely to linger in memory far beyond the final page. The story unfolds in episodic flashes, skipping up to ten years in the turn of a chapter yet meandering in detail, with the endearing clutter of everyday life. It's a perfectly valid way to tell a story, though less than satisfying to those of us who crave a strong resolution. Saint Maybe, like Ms. Tyler's other novels, doesn't conclude so much as muddle to a stop, with the characters smiling ruefully. Along the way, the vississitudes of his life have shaped Ian into the sweet, bemused beatification of the title. Very early in the book, he wonders "if there was any event, any at all, so tragic it could jolt him out of the odious habit of observing his own reaction to it." The answer is No; his self-absorption does not lessen, it only changes form. At the end, he still hasn't figured out much of anything, but the family is all together and Life Goes On.

Toward what? The reader may think about it briefly, in a nineties kind of way, close the book and go forth clueless.

Anne Tyler mines the lives of an ordinary, middle-class Baltimore family and achieves extraordinary effects in Saint Maybe, arguably her best novel.

Saint Maybe traces the subtle, yet complete transformation of Ian Bedloe, a genial 17-year-old paralyzed with guilt after he plays a role in the "accidental" death of his older brother. Searching for relief, Ian discovers the Church of the Second Chance, a new purpose for his life, and eventual redemption.

Like many of Tyler's previous works, including The Accidental Tourist and the Pulitzer-Prize winning Breathing Lessons, Saint Maybe examines how unpredictable events jolt even the most mundane lives. In the aftermath of domestic tragedy, the Bedloe family declines and rallies in ways that are occasionally shocking, yet completely logical. The depiction of Ian's evolution is especially masterful; while his transformation is both radical and extraordinary, never once does it seem unrealistic or strained.

The joy of reading Saint Maybe lies largely in its endearing, familiar characters: as in other Tyler novels, they are sometimes foolish, frequently eccentric, and always thoroughly human. Even minor players get their turn in the spotlight: the awkward foreign graduate students who live near the Bedloes; the overeager yet supportive parishioners at the Church of the Second Chance. In this novel, every character, however bumbling or marginal, has important lessons to deliver.

Therein lies Tyler's greatest strength: the compassion and humor with which she examines both her characters and the mundane world in which they live. She finds lyricism and meaning everywhere: in her capable hands, musty linen closets, spiritless summer camp, and even a late night trip to the grocery store become imbued with significance. Saint Maybe is both luminous and sublime: a beautiful tribute to the drama of the commonplace.

Macon is an eccentric yet endearing travel writer whose wife, Sarah,leaves him unexpectedly. Well, not as unexpectedly as Macon would like to believe. After the loss of their son, things never come back together for them. Macon is forced to move on with his life in a somewhat unusual manner.

In walks Muriel, the dog trainer, depending on which day or job we're looking at. Muriel throws caution to the wind on a daily basis and eventually sweeps Macon up in her ways. They become quite the odd couple, but how can we define what a love relationship can be for anyone except ourselves?

I thought Tyler did a wonderful job with the book and hope that others who may have missed the boat the first time around won't hesitate to buy a copy of *The Accidental Tourist*!

"A Patchwork Planet" shows how people age and become dependent
on others for even the most simple things. Having someone take
out their trash, open jars, get items from high shelf's.

The main character works for a business that fills the needs
of elderly clients. Chores, errands ... and something more.
Because he cares he helps alleviate their loneliness as well.

I read this book when it first came out, this copy I bought
as a gift. Anyone who has taken care of a Grandparent or
loves a Senior should read this ... it's very insightful :]

Oh and there are a few other story lines going on along with
this one ... but this is what touched me most.