One Dayby David Nicholls
It's 1988 and Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley have only just met. They both know that the next day, after college graduation, they must go their separate ways. But after only one day together, they cannot stop thinking about one another. As the years go by, Dex and Em begin to lead separate lives—lives very different from the people they once dreamed they'd become.
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It's 1988 and Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley have only just met. They both know that the next day, after college graduation, they must go their separate ways. But after only one day together, they cannot stop thinking about one another. As the years go by, Dex and Em begin to lead separate lives—lives very different from the people they once dreamed they'd become. And yet, unable to let go of that special something that grabbed onto them that first night, an extraordinary relationship develops between the two.
Over twenty years, snapshots of that relationship are revealed on the same day—July 15th—of each year. Dex and Em face squabbles and fights, hopes and missed opportunities, laughter and tears. And as the true meaning of this one crucial day is revealed, they must come to grips with the nature of love and life itself.
The New York Times
The New York Times Book Review
“Big, absorbing, smart, fantastically readable." —Nick Hornby, from his blog
"[Nicholls] has a gift for zeitgeist description and emotional empathy that's wholly his own. . . . [A] light but surprisingly deep romance so thoroughly satisfying." —Entertainment Weekly
“Nicholls offers sharp dialogue and wry insight that sounds like Nick Hornby at his best.” —The Daily Beast (A Best Book of the Summer)
“[One Day] will leave you hungrily eating up the words. At times, you will experience ‘can't breathe’ laughter, then ‘publicly embarrassing’ sobs. Whatever emotion, all will feel uncontrollable; precisely like the lives of the characters you so badly want to see end up together.” – Seattle Post Intelligencer
"Fluid, expertly paced, highly observed, and at times, both funny and moving." —Boston Globe
"Those of us susceptible to nostalgic reveries of youthful heartache and self-invention (which is to say, all of us) longed to get our hands on Nicholls’s new novel. . . . And if you do, you may want to take care where you lay this book down. You may not be the only one who wants in on the answers." —New York Times Book Review
"Who doesn’t relish a love story with the right amount of heart-melting romance, disappointment, regret, and huge doses of disenchantment about growing up and growing old between quarreling meant-to-be lovers?" —Elle, Top 10 Summer Books for 2010
“A great, funny, and heart-breaking read.” —The Early Show [CBS]
"Funny, sweet and completely engrossing . . . The friendship at the heart of this novel is best expressed within the pitch-perfect dialogue/banter between the two." —Very Short List
“A wonderful, wonderful book: wise, funny, perceptive, compassionate and often unbearably sad . . . the best British social novel since Jonathan Coe’s What a Carve Up!. . . . Nicholls’s witty prose has a transparency that brings Nick Hornby to mind: it melts as you read it so that you don’t notice all the hard work that it’s doing.” —The Times (London)
“Just as Nicholls has made full use of his central concept, so he has drawn on all his comic and literary gifts to produce a novel that is not only roaringly funny but also memorable, moving and, in its own unassuming, unpretentious way, rather profound.” —The Guardian (London)
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By David Nicholls
VintageCopyright © 2010 David Nicholls
All right reserved.
Friday 15TH July 1988
Rankeillor Street, Edinburgh
'I suppose the important thing is to make some sort of difference,' she said. 'You know, actually change something.'
'What, like "change the world", you mean?'
'Not the whole entire world. Just the little bit around you.'
They lay in silence for a moment, bodies curled around each other in the single bed, then both began to laugh in low, pre-dawn voices. 'Can't believe I just said that,' she groaned. 'Sounds a bit corny, doesn't it?'
'A bit corny.'
'I'm trying to be inspiring! I'm trying to lift your grubby soul for the great adventure that lies ahead of you.' She turned to face him. 'Not that you need it. I expect you've got your future nicely mapped out, ta very much. Probably got a little flow-chart somewhere or something.'
'So what're you going to do then? What's the great plan?'
'Well, my parents are going to pick up my stuff, dump it at theirs, then I'll spend a couple of days in their flat in London, see some friends. Then France-'
'Then China maybe, see what that's all about, then maybe onto India, travel around there for a bit-'
'Traveling,' she sighed. 'So predictable.'
'What's wrong with travelling?'
'Avoiding reality more like.'
'I think reality is over-rated,' he said in the hope that this might come across as dark and charismatic.
She sniffed. 'S'alright, I suppose, for those who can afford it. Why not just say "I'm going on holiday for two years"? It's the same thing.'
'Because travel broadens the mind,' he said, rising onto one elbow and kissing her.
'Oh I think you're probably a bit too broad-minded as it is,' she said, turning her face away, for the moment at least. They settled again on the pillow. 'Anyway, I didn't mean what are you doing next month, I meant the future-future, when you're, I don't know...' She paused, as if conjuring up some fantastical idea, like a fifth dimension. '...Forty or something. What do you want to be when you're forty?'
'Forty?' He too seemed to be struggling with the concept. 'Don't know. Am I allowed to say "rich"?'
'Just so, so shallow.'
'Alright then, "famous".' He began to nuzzle at her neck. 'Bit morbid, this, isn't it?'
'It's not morbid, it's...exciting.'
' 'Exciting!' ' He was imitating her voice now, her soft Yorkshire accent, trying to make her sound daft. She got this a lot, posh boys doing funny voices, as if there was something unusual and quaint about an accent, and not for the first time she felt a reassuring shiver of dislike for him. She shrugged herself away until her back was pressed against the cool of the wall.
'Yes, exciting. We're meant to be excited, aren't we? All those possibilities. It's like the Vice-Chancellor said, "the doors of opportunity flung wide..."'
'"Yours are the names in tomorrow's newspapers..."'
'Not very likely.'
'So, what, are you excited then?'
'Me? God no, I'm crapping myself.'
'Me too. Christ...' He turned suddenly and reached for the cigarettes on the floor by the side of the bed, as if to steady his nerves. 'Forty years old. Forty. Fucking hell.'
Smiling at his anxiety, she decided to make it worse. 'So what'll you be doing when you're forty?'
He lit his cigarette thoughtfully. 'Well the thing is, Em-'
'"Em"? Who's "Em"?'
'People call you Em. I've heard them.'
'Yeah, friends call me Em.'
'So can I call you Em?'
'Go on then, Dex.'
'So I've given this whole "growing old" thing some thought and I've come to the decision that I'd like to stay exactly as I am right now.'
Dexter Mayhew. She peered up at him through her fringe as he leant against the cheap buttoned vinyl headboard and even without her spectacles on it was clear why he might want to stay exactly this way. Eyes closed, the cigarette glued languidly to his lower lip, the dawn light warming the side of his face through the red filter of the curtains, he had the knack of looking perpetually posed for a photograph. Emma Morley thought 'handsome' a silly, nineteenth-century word, but there really was no other word for it, except perhaps 'beautiful'. He had one of those faces where you were aware of the bones beneath the skin, as if even his bare skull would be attractive. A fine nose, slightly shiny with grease, and dark skin beneath the eyes that looked almost bruised, a badge of honour from all the smoking and late nights spent deliberately losing at strip poker with girls from Bedales. There was something feline about him: eyebrows fine, mouth pouty in a self-conscious way, lips a shade too dark and full, but dry and chapped now, and rouged with Bulgarian red wine. Gratifyingly his hair was terrible, short at the back and sides, but with an awful little quiff at the front. Whatever gel he used had worn off, and now the quiff looked pert and fluffy, like a silly little hat.
Still with his eyes closed, he exhaled smoke through his nose. Clearly he knew he was being looked at because he tucked one hand beneath his armpit, bunching up his pectorals and biceps. Where did the muscles come from? Certainly not sporting activity, unless you counted skinny- dipping and playing pool. Probably it was just the kind of good health that was passed down in the family, along with the stocks and shares and the good furniture. Handsome then, or beautiful even, with his paisley boxer shorts pulled down to his hip bones and somehow here in her single bed in her tiny rented room at the end of four years of college. 'Handsome'! Who do you think you are, Jane Eyre? Grow up. Be sensible. Don't get carried away.
She plucked the cigarette from his mouth. 'I can imagine you at forty,' she said, a hint of malice in her voice. 'I can picture it right now.'
He smiled without opening his eyes. 'Go on then.'
'Alright-' She shuffled up the bed, the duvet tucked beneath her armpits. 'You're in this sports car with the roof down in Kensington or Chelsea or one of those places and the amazing thing about this car is it's silent, 'cause all the cars'll be silent in, I don't know, what - 2006?'
He scrunched his eyes to do the sum. '2004-'
'And this car is hovering six inches off the ground down the King's Road and you've got this little paunch tucked under the leather steering wheel like a little pillow and those backless gloves on, thinning hair and no chin. You're a big man in a small car with a tan like a basted turkey-'
'So shall we change the subject then?'
'And there's this woman next to you in sunglasses, your third, no, fourth wife, very beautiful, a model, no, an ex-model, twenty-three, you met her while she was draped on the bonnet of a car at a motor- show in Nice or something, and she's stunning and thick as shit-'
'Well that's nice. Any kids?'
'No kids, just three divorces, and it's a Friday in July and you're heading off to some house in the country and in the tiny boot of your hover car are tennis racquets and croquet mallets and a hamper full of fine wines and South African grapes and poor little quails and asparagus and the wind's in your widow's peak and you're feeling very, very pleased with yourself and wife number three, four, whatever, smiles at you with about two hundred shiny white teeth and you smile back and try not to think about the fact that you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.'
She came to an abrupt halt. You sound insane, she told herself. Do try not to sound insane. 'Course if it's any consolation we'll all be dead in a nuclear war long before then!' she said brightly, but still he was frowning at her.
'Maybe I should go then. If I'm so shallow and corrupt-'
'No, don't go,' she said, a little too quickly. 'It's four in the morning.'
He shuffled up the bed until his face was a few inches from hers. 'I don't know where you get this idea of me, you barely know me.'
'I know the type.'
'I've seen you, hanging round Modern Languages, braying at each other, throwing black-tie dinner parties-'
'I don't even own black-tie. And I certainly don't bray-'
'Yachting your way round the Med in the long hols, ra ra ra-'
'So if I'm so awful-' His hand was on her hip now.
'-which you are.'
'-then why are you sleeping with me?' His hand was on the warm soft flesh of her thigh.
'Actually I don't think I have slept with you, have I?'
'Well that depends.' He leant in and kissed her. 'Define your terms.' His hand was on the base of her spine, his leg slipping between hers.
'By the way,' she mumbled, her mouth pressed against his.
'What?' He felt her leg snake around his, pulling him closer.
'You need to brush your teeth.'
'I don't mind if you don't.'
'S'really horrible,' she laughed. 'You taste of wine and fags.'
'Well that's alright then. So do you.'
Her head snapped away, breaking off the kiss. 'Do I?'
'I don't mind. I like wine and fags.'
'Won't be a sec.' She flung the duvet back, clambering over him.
'Where are you going now?' He placed his hand on her bare back.
'Just the bog,' she said, retrieving her spectacles from the pile of books by the bed: large, black NHS frames, standard issue.
'The "bog", the "bog"...sorry I'm not familiar...'
She stood, one arm across her chest, careful to keep her back to him. 'Don't go away,' she said, padding out of the room, hooking two fingers into the elastic of her underpants to pull the material down at the top of her thighs. 'And no playing with yourself while I'm gone.'
He exhaled through his nose and shuffled up the bed, taking in the shabby rented room, knowing with absolute confidence that somewhere in amongst the art postcards and photocopied posters for angry plays there would be a photograph of Nelson Mandela, like some dreamy ideal boyfriend. In his last four years he had seen any number of bedrooms like this, dotted round the city like crime scenes, rooms where you were never more than six feet from a Nina Simone album, and though he'd rarely seen the same bedroom twice, it was all too familiar. The burnt out nightlights and desolate pot plants, the smell of washing powder on cheap, ill-fitting sheets. She had that arty girl's passion for photomontage too; flash-lit snaps of college friends and family jumbled in amongst the Chagalls and Vermeers and Kandinskys, the Che Guevaras and Woody Allens and Samuel Becketts. Nothing here was neutral, everything displayed an allegiance or a point of view. The room was a manifesto, and with a sigh Dexter recognised her as one of those girls who used 'bourgeois' as a term of abuse. He could understand why 'fascist' might have negative connotations, but he liked the word 'bourgeois' and all that it implied. Security, travel, nice food, good manners, ambition; what was he meant to be apologising for?
He watched the smoke curl from his mouth. Feeling for an ashtray, he found a book at the side of the bed. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, spine creased at the 'erotic' bits. The problem with these fiercely individualistic girls was that they were all exactly the same. Another book: The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. Silly bloody fool, he thought, confident that it was not a mistake he would ever make.
At twenty-three, Dexter Mayhew's vision of his future was no clearer than Emma Morley's. He hoped to be successful, to make his parents proud and to sleep with more than one woman at the same time, but how to make these all compatible? He wanted to feature in magazine articles, and hoped one day for a retrospective of his work, without having any clear notion of what that work might be. He wanted to live life to the extreme, but without any mess or complications. He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph. Things should look right. Fun; there should be a lot of fun and no more sadness than absolutely necessary.
It wasn't much of a plan, and already there had been mistakes. Tonight, for instance, was bound to have repercussions: tears and awkward phone-calls and accusations. He should probably get out of here as soon as possible, and he glanced at his discarded clothes in preparation for his escape. From the bathroom came the warning rattle and bang of an ancient toilet cistern, and he hurriedly replaced the book, finding beneath the bed a small yellow Colman's mustard tin that he flipped open to confirm that, yes, it did contain condoms, along with the small grey remains of a joint, like a mouse dropping. With the possibility of sex and drugs in a small yellow tin he felt hopeful again, and decided that he might stay a little longer at least.
In the bathroom, Emma Morley wiped the crescents of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth and wondered if this was all a terrible mistake. Here she was, after four romantically barren years, finally, finally in bed with someone she really liked, had liked since she'd first seen him at a party in 1984, and in just a few hours he'd be gone. Forever probably. He was hardly likely to ask her to go to China with him, and besides she was boycotting China. And he was alright, wasn't he? Dexter Mayhew. In truth she suspected he wasn't all that bright, and a little too pleased with himself, but he was popular and funny and - no point fighting it - very handsome. So why was she being so stroppy and sarcastic? Why couldn't she just be self-confident and fun, like those scrubbed, bouncy girls he usually hung around with? She saw the dawn light at the tiny bathroom window. Sobriety. Scratching at her awful hair with her fingertips, she pulled a face, then yanked the chain of the ancient toilet cistern and headed back into the room.
From the bed, Dexter watched her appear in the doorway, wearing the gown and mortar board that they'd been obliged to hire for the graduation ceremony, her leg hooked mock-seductively around the doorframe, her rolled degree certificate in one hand. She peered over her spectacles and pulled the mortar board down low over one eye. 'What d'you think?'
'Suits you. I like the jaunty angle. Now take it off and come back to bed.'
Excerpted from One Day by David Nicholls Copyright © 2010 by David Nicholls. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Meet the Author
David Nicholls trained as an actor before making the switch to writing. He is the author of two previous novels—Starter For Ten and The Understudy. He has also written many screenplays for film and television, including the feature film adaptation of Starter For Ten. He lives in London.
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A little bit "When Harry Met Sally" (one character even jokingly refers to the main characters as Harry and Sally), but written in such a unique format, visiting the characters on the same day each year, year after year. This unique pacing kept me glued to the pages and telling myself "Just one more chapter so I can see what happens next year" until before I knew it most of my day had been spent finishing the book. The unique style and a surprising ending separate it from other romantic comedies.
This is a delicious, brilliant, funny, emotionally engaging romantic comedy, a moving, feel good read. The book opens with Emma and Dexter on July 15, 1988, the last day of University in Edinburgh. She is a brain child, he is privileged and spoiled rotten. They are attracted to each other but it is the last day, and they are headed in different directions. Their story then proceeds in yearly episodes, only taking place on July 15, from 1988 through 2007. The author sticks to this original order of things, filling in background as needed. Emma and Dexter remain friends, although each has separate romantic entanglements, or lack of them, and their careers take quite different courses. When Harry Met Sally meets SAME TIME NEXT YEAR..I loved both of these movies! Perfect!! Memorable, moving ending!! I loved it!
I enjoyed reading this delicious and romantic novel. Good plot, great characters. will buy more
This is a long, exciting story, reminiscent of WHEN HARRY MET SALLY. Dexter and Emma who meet in college and stay friends over a twenty year period, despite life pulling them in different directions. Each chapter has a meeting point, July 15th every year, and reveals where each is in their lives. Sometimes they seem close to becoming lovers, but then circumstances intervene and that moment seems to get lost. There is connecting, reconnecting, reminiscing and each having a direct effect on each other's direction in life. This is a great, true to life story about fate and how we all evolve over time...Another one this reminds me of is SAME TIME NEXT YEAR.
I bought this book two days ago and COULD NOT put it down. I needed to know all of Em and Dex's story. What a well-written, funny,touching, and brilliant way to tell the story of two friends over twenty years...a must have on your summer reading list!
I don't normally take the time to write a review unless a book touches me and this one definitely did. The format was unlike anything I've ever read. The story progresses, but you are only given the story from the viewpoint of one specific day in a year. You never know what will happen from one chapter to the next - honestly, where will any of us be exactly one year from now, really? It is heartfelt, romantic, touching, funny and clever. The relationship between Emma and Dexter, no matter if it was romantic or just friendship, is engaging and so well thought out. It was the kind of book I found myself thinking about when I wasn't reading it. And 360 pages is not light reading! I hope everyone enjoys this book just as much as I did. :)
From the very first chapter, I fell in love with Emma and Dexter. Nicholls does a superb job of honestly portraying his characters in a profound way that makes you laugh, gasp, cringe, and ultimately, cry for them. I'm not sure that I've ever felt for characters the way I did with this book. But this isn't just a "love story." It is smart, humorous, and touching; not just fiction, but literature. It was a book that you don't want to put down, but you fear finishing it too quickly and ending the experience.
I think that what Mr. Nicholls very adroitly captures is the trajectory of the middle of life. The supporting characters are not as finely fleshed out as the main ones, but that's ok, because giving us one day a year for 20 or so years makes character development a stretch. The only characters that really matter are Dexter and Emma and I felt like I knew them and cared about them. I was very impressed that, in this format, the characters became real. The story of them and their relationship is so tender and understated. The end is sad and touching and the final chapter is such a great end. It perfectly conveys the book cover and wraps up the story, leaving you feeling satisfied and entertained. I really enjoyed this book and would recommend it to everyone, but particularly women, because it's so sensitive.
I just thought this was a great read...I enjoyed the characters; I cared about them, got frustrated by them, wanted the best for them. I really enjoyed how the author had them "grow-up"...I look at people and wonder what they were like as kids or young adults, and this author provides this. I've been recommending it to a lot of friends.
This book was just LOUSY. The writing was pitiful, the characters annoying in their stereotypical 'good but insecure girl and silly undependable bad boy' who finally get together. The ONLY reason I finished it was because I have a personal rule to finish every book I start, otherwise I would have closed this on page twenty instead of hoping it got better. Poorly written, unlikable characters, ridiculous story line.
**Slight Spoiler Alert** Let me just start out by saying, I really liked the format of this book. I love the idea of getting the reader through time by focusing on one day each year. It was effective. That said, I absolutely hated the ending of the book. I saw it coming several chapters before. I don't know why for a book to be considered a "great" work of literary fiction it must end the way this book, and so many others deemed great, do. I found it predictable, not just the ending but many other aspects, such as Emma's affair. I had a hard time liking a protagonist like Dexter--I found him glib and completely irresponsible. For example, getting drunk while caring for his baby daughter. Yuck. I also thought the language was a bit much; it seemed every other line Dex was saying the "F" word. Is there no more creative way to use the English language? I wanted to like this book, apparently many others do. As others have stated, it is very much like When Harry Met Sally. There were times when I was laughing out loud. However, it just fell short in so many other ways for me.
I am so disappointed with this book! I feel it was the biggest waste of time EVER. The book just ends...while reviewing his memories..I am so angry..no closer on the book what so ever. Just when you think something great is finally going to happen it doesnt. From the pivatal moment of one of the main char. it just d-r-a-i-n-s you from then on..sucks you dry with pointless memories that we as the readers also read at the beginning of the book.. Pointless, Dry. no closers I wish I could get my money back..I willnot even speak of this book to my fellow readers even as to how bad it was..that in its self is to much attention to such a worthless book!.. sorry..I am writing this moments after finishing the book..still abit upset over all the lost time of reading it.
I brought this after hearing all the "great" reviews about it, and I'm sorry for the purchase. It is dry, predictable and not much of a story. Maybe I'm not a fan of contemporary literature, but I just can't connect with it. Irritating characters... I am thinking this might be autobiographical, but names changed to protect the innocent. A classic example that a some stories that are better told verbally shouldn't be published. Ugh.
I loved this book. although as people the characters, especially dexter were incrediably flawed (like the rest of us humans) i simply fell in love with both of them. Emma was just incrediably strong yet dependent and Dexter seemed to be strong and independent yet was weak and dependent as well. I was sad to let their story go!!!! loved the way it was written, one year at a time, development of story and characters around them, and shows you how all lives evolve and change. great, great book.
If you are looking for a good read this summer--or any time, for that matter--and enjoy what I call "relationship fiction", you won't be sorry you read this! Word is that Hollywood is adapting this as I write this--as long as they don't turn it into standard rom-com it should be great. Trust me on this one--you will love this book!
I don't know yet if I really liked this book, or if it upset me. Cons: The characters were sometimes really annoying and their situations as well. The ending felt a little bit like the author got tired and didn't feel like dealing with the conflicts that were SO THERE, and then resolving them. There wasn't enough finality in the ending, except for the very last page, BUT what preceded it was what felt unfinished. There were many moments that felt like they were building up to something because they had so much potential and then they just didn't. The characters could be very irritating. The male lead was somewhat repulsive at times, and the female lead was sarcastic and mostly miserable. Actually, in general, the book was mostly miserable... Pros: The sarcastic banter was entertaining and made me laugh often. The book did not get sugary sweet and full of cliches like rom-coms. The story was certainly realistic to real life. I really cared about the characters and their lives, despite the annoying factors. I did love them and root for them and it was hard to put the book down. OVERALL, I am mixed about this book but I read it because I plan on seeing the movie. I do hope the book does not turn this realistic emotional piece into a rom com chalk full of cliches and a cheesy ending. There are some life lessons in this book: people and relationships change with time, sometimes you don't realize you have something until its too late, take nothing for granted, sometimes the person you should be with is not who you expect, life doesn't always turn out as expected. I would not say don't read, I feel like anyone should read this and give it a try, form their own opinion. This could be for anyone interested in a realistic drama of a relationship, sarcastic witty conversation, and sentimentality.
While this book is well written, the author takes very simple ways with his characters. No one, not a single character is happy in this book. To believe this book everyone cheats and everyone is cheated on. No one has responsibility. Families are all evil where either someone dies leaving resentments or the family is in such deep competition. I didn't find this book enlightening, or humorous, or, honestly even that creative. All the reviews I've read talk about the surprise ending. If by surprise you mean wanting to throw the book across the room and into the fireplace, then yes, the ending was surprising. What saddens me is he had the ending - the issue of fertility and child birth/rearing in late in life couples. But he chose a rather uncreative and simple way out. I will not see the movie of this book nor will I read anything by this author. As I said to a friend of mine who also had a similar negative reaction, I wonder what this author's life is like? His book is just so depressing and brings out the worst in everyone. Sorry, but this gets a pass from me.
I hardly ever write book reviews but I had to get in on this one. I'm sorry I have no idea what the big deal was about this book. I found it incredibly boring. I read about 1/2 of it thinking it was going to get better at some point - no luck. I highly disliked the male character, and he's the lead so how is it suppose to get better from there? The female is not much better. I came to not care what this couple was doing on this particular day each year and ended up skipping about 1/3 of the book. I guess it just wasn't my kind of book: no action, no mystery, and barely a love story.
Nicholas Sparks with substance? This soap opera of a novel is well-paced and consistently interesting. The characters have depth (take that Sparks!) and are consistently believable. So, yes, I enjoyed reading One Day even if I would have changed a few of the contrivances.
This was such a great book. The writing was very smart and the laungage was beautiful. SO many times you read what falls under "chick lit" and you walk away feeling a little dumb. NOt the case here..With most love stories I always get the sense of "This would never happen" but with this book, it feels pretty realistic..Em and Dex are two characaters that I will walk away remembering and still struggle to figure out who my favorite is. I was really rooting for Dex to find his way and anxious for Em to come into HER own. When "things" happen I found myself saying out loud "Oh My God, NO". Great story and beautifully told! Perfect end of summer book. This book will be a permanent fixture in my bookshelf and most likely this falls under the Re-Read type of book. Kayla
This book is a must read for book clubs and every man and woman who just wants to escape into a fantastic book. The characters are well drawn out and the plot is fun and enjoyable. The style of writing is smooth as butter and the dialogue is never stilted. David Nicholls has written an excellent book and I can't wait until his next one.
This book is just so cuddly. It's a perfect light read. Nicholls makes their personalities so potent-you feel like you're part of their world, their lives. You want to call either of them on the phone and tell them what mistakes their making, but like so many people, Em and Dex want to take all the detours.
One day captured the innocence and power of love. The characters were realistic and touching. The author did more than just describe their actions but magically made me feel the yearning and the truth between the love that was so obvious but still somewhat discreet between the two characters. This story depicts love so beautifully but not too fantastical, one day is a story of real love and real life. This book is one of my favorites.
This book was quite a surprise. I found myself laughing out loud, weeping and thoroughly enjoying this book.
One Day is the third novel by British author, screenwriter, and actor, David Nicholls. The day referred to in the title is St. Swithin’s Day, July 15th, and the narration describes what is happening in the lives of two people, Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley, each year on that day as well as referring to significant events of the preceding year. Emma and Dexter are first encountered on the day after their graduation and are followed through twenty years of life: relationships, career highs and lows, personal crises, addictions, weddings, marriages, divorces, extramarital affairs, parenthood, resounding successes and abysmal failures, loss of significant family members, loneliness, cohabitation and physical ageing all feature. Apart from straight narration, Nicholls uses letters (sent and unsent), poems, phone messages and newspaper articles to tell the story, and he cleverly creates the feel of the period with songs, books, movies, TV shows, world affairs, politics and sports. It all feels very real. Dexter and Emma have lots of depth and appeal; the supporting characters are likewise interesting. Nicholls manages to evoke plenty of laughter, but also tears (occasionally at the same time!) as well as groans and sighs. He also packs a punch that will leave the reader gasping. This is a marvellous novel that will have readers searching out other works by David Nicholls.