In her two decades of writing, Elinor Lipman has populated her fictional universe with characters so utterly real that we feel like they’re old friends. Now she shares an even more intimate world with us—her own—in essays that offer a candid, charming take on modern life. Looking back and forging ahead, she considers the subjects that matter most: childhood and condiments, long marriage and solo living, career and politics.Here you’ll find the lighthearted: a celebration of four decades of All My Children, a reflection on being Jewish in heavily Irish-Catholic Lowell on St. Patrick’s Day, a hilariously unflinching account of her tiptoe into online dating. But she also tackles the serious and profound in eloquent stories of unexpected widowhood and caring for elderly parents that use her struggles to illuminate ours. Whether for Lipman’s longtime readers or those who love the essays of Nora Ephron or Anna Quindlen, I Can't Complain is a diverting delight.

    This is my story of how a paedophile entered my life, home and family when I was six years old.I highlight how he attempted to break my mind, soul and spirit for his total control over me, and how I fought for my sanity, survival and freedom against his evil and constant onslaught of abuse.I was Marie; now I'm Jes.“Even when I die, I'll come back to haunt you.”It's time for Jes to bury Marie's ghosts forever.Six-year-old Marie finds her world has changed and become one of confusion, deceit and abuse.No longer called by her birth name, she is unaffectionately referred to as Scrag - a shortened version of Scraggy-knickered-nut-rag.Her will to survive manifests quite bizarre tactics, as she deviates off course into a childhood of insanity, paranoia, glue-sniffing, self-harming and messages from David Bowie ringing through her ears.Her mind contrives strategies to cope with the continued onslaught that it seems destined to endure.Adulthood is her escape route if she can survive the wait, but can demons be truly locked away in the past forever?This is the story of one child's mind at the mercy of a real life monster.

    I have loved and been loved. I have been given much and I have given something in return. Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.” —Oliver SacksNo writer has succeeded in capturing the medical and human drama of illness as honestly and as eloquently as Oliver Sacks. During the last few months of his life, he wrote a set of essays in which he movingly explored his feelings about completing a life and coming to terms with his own death. “It is the fate of every human being,” Sacks writes, “to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.”Together, these four essays form an ode to the uniqueness of each human being and to gratitude for the gift of life.