A book that explains my own life events like no other

This story, beautifully told, is the story of so many women brought up in the patriarchal social order that was taken for granted at one time, and is threatening to be imposed again in 2017 America. I want to sit quietly now with what I read, examine the ways in which I was culpable in the stifling of my intellect for so many years, my acquiescence because that was easier. A novel that makes me examine myself does not come along that often, so I say, brava! ( )

Meridian, a bright student, sets aside her ambition to become a scientist and follows her husband to Los Alamos where he will work on the Manhattan Project. There she meets similarly bright but sidetracked women who are resigned to live in the shadows of their spouses. To fill her days, she goes to ladies' coffees and, on the side, studies a flock of crows in a nearby canyon, learning much about human behavior through their actions. A chance encounter with a returned Vietnam war veteran/graduate student introduces her to free love, the Women's Movement, her awakening sexuality, and her right to pursue her early dreams. Readers who have become adults through the '60's and '70's will identify with Meridian's journey to a very satisfying ending. ( )

This book seemed like it should have been a perfect fit for me - it features New Mexico, history, science, birds, m and written by a New Mexican author - how could it go wrong. But it went so gloriously wrong; so very, very, very, very wrong. I'm honestly stunned by the favorable reviews of this book, especially from the women of LT.

Titularly about the people and events of the Manhattan Project, particularly the women there, it boils down to a badly composed bodice ripper. One of the difficulties is that it appeared the author wanted the book to fit into several different marketing boxes, so that it's just a mess of everything, not sure of itself in any one place. Things looked bleak for the story when the main character starts up an affair - and I don't really care one way or another whether a character engages in extramarital affairs - in an effort to break free from the quotidian and life-sucking nature of her life. Good for her, I say. But then descriptions followed that are better placed in Penthouse Forum, and probably better written there, as well. Honestly, do we really need to know what male body crack a female puts her tongue? Or how it tasted? This is one I'd like to have pitched directly out the window while uttering several of the curse words I'd been reading in the pages.

Not Recommended!
1 bone, simply for having thought of Los Alamos and the Manhattan Project, if only in passing. ( )

Well-written, but it felt like a slog most of the way through - and then a little rushed at the end. ( )

This book confirms my opinion that there is no such thing as win-win, especially in a marriage. One person wins, the other loses. Always. For one person to achieve his/her wishes and desires, the other person must give up something. It’s like dark and light; both can’t exist at the same time in the same place. Especially in the time period of this book, the woman had no choice but to subjugate herself to her husband. If a woman was married, her husband came first. Period. No matter how intelligent she was, no matter what her potential. (Although there really wasn’t much opportunity for a woman to reach her potential.)

I read a double meaning in the book’s title, and I suspect that may be what the author intended. At first glance, it's simply a play on the fact that Alden works at Los Alamos, building the atom bomb. But love can be a terribly heavy weight sometimes, and adding “atomic” as an adjective for weight gives it an even more ominous feel. Very fitting for the story of Alden’s and Meridian’s marriage.

I’m a child of the 60s and remember how hard things were for the women in my family. Some things have changed today, some haven’t:

The slightest thing sent them [sparrows] racing for cover in the bushes. It was amazing that they managed to consume any food, as skittish as they were. They were flighty—a word used so frequently to describe women.

Actually, I thought, the small birds’ behavior made perfect sense—they were so low in the pecking order, so vulnerable. Their predators were bountiful, between the roadrunners, crows, raptors, dogs, and cats. The entirety of a sparrow’s world was peopled with threats. Of course women are flighty, I thought. We have more predators than men; we have to operate constantly with greater wariness. Women alone in parking lots can be singled out, mugged, or worse. Our own mates can beat us, kill us.

But I can’t end on such a depressing note. This quote triggered a very sweet memory for me:

My father taught me how to polish and buff the deep chestnut leather, and then it became my job to polish his shoes as well on Saturday nights, before Sunday morning services.

I didn’t polish my father’s shoes, but I remember so well watching him do it. Every single Saturday night. Oh, how I wish I could watch him again.

Definitely recommended. ( )