Praise for I Don't Know How To Tell You This
"with heartbreaking clarity and profound compassion. . .Thurm's spot-on thumbnail portraits and signature black humor leaven the appalling difficulties her [characters] face." —Kirkus Reviews (starred)
“A tender and heartfelt novel about families coming together and falling apart. Marian Thurm creates characters who are so warm and messy and gloriously human, you’ll want to stay with them forever. Only she could write a novel this funny about something so sad.” —Daisy Alpert Florin, author of My Last Innocent Year
"I was bowled over by I Don’t Know How To Tell You This not only because this brave and beautiful novel reveals so poignantly the tragedy of dementia, but also because Marian Thurm, while giving us a family that has drunk and witnessed more than its fair share of darkness, nonetheless allows its members to cling to love and hope laced with humor. This is a perfectly crafted novel, resonant with meaning, one that refuses despair and elevates us all.”—Jonathan Wilson, author of The Red Balcony
Praise for Marian Thurm
"Marian Thurm writes with an authority that is always impressive…and that compels our innocent belief…She writes so brilliantly of the battle of the sexes.” New York Times Book Review
“What is wonderful…are Thurm’s cold, clear eye and her perfect ear for the way people talk…As an observer and reporter, she is wickedly accurate, generously tolerant and wryly amused.” The Washington Post Book World
“Exceptional…(Thurm) embraces the ironies and absurdities of the ordinary world and transforms them into a series of small epiphanies.” Newsday
“Careful, assured, exact, she is a delight to read. She has a heart that is almost broken—‘almost’ because there’s humor and wit and a glimmer of hope.” Chicago Tribune
“Eloquent…Thurm writes with such precision, such attention to psychological detail that she makes this world completely recognizable and true…We come to see her characters in the round, like beautifully shaped sculptures rather than as simple portraits in a frame.” The New York Times
“Thurm hits the funny/sad spot every time, whether the subject is bereavement, divorce, betrayal, or some other form of abandonment... (She)…chronicles the frustrations and heartbreaks of contemporary domestic arrangements with a brilliantly light touch." Kirkus Reviews (starred)
“Marian Thurm is one of the most delightful writers around…the writing is gorgeous and the emotional truths and pains we all harbor are painfully explored and exposed.” The Providence Journal
★ 2025-04-19
A close-knit family struggles with griefs old and new as one of their number succumbs to memory loss.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, the doctor is saying…” “I don’t know how to tell you this, Elisabeth began…” The title of Thurm’s novel comes up twice in the narrative; twice Rachel receives news so devastating that “in a microsecond” it capsizes her life. Just a few years ago, things were really pretty good. Her husband, Jonathan, was a beloved professor at Yale; her son, Matthew, married the right woman on his third try, a young widow, and is raising two adorable children; then, as now, Rachel tried to help her fellow New Yorkers straighten out their lives as a judge in family court. She is very close to Jonathan’s mother, Szófia, a Holocaust survivor. And despite the fact that the first life-changing news she receives is of her husband’s infidelity, the couple has moved on sufficiently to celebrate their 45th anniversary with a trip to Paris—which is right about when the signs of Jonathan’s condition emerge. He suddenly announces at a restaurant that she should get out her credit card, as he will no longer be paying for her dinners: “The Jonathan Sugarman Bank of America is closed.” When they get home, they find his house keys in the microwave. The novel follows the arc of his decline, and attends to other sorrows as well, from Szófia’s terrible backstory to Matthew’s guilty obsession with his wife’s dead first husband. Precocious, hyperarticulate Luna, who lost her biological dad when she was just 2, is a bright spot for the characters and the readers. “Wait, wasn’t that one of those iconic moments for you, the first time you saw me walking?” says this 10-year-old when her elders claim they cannot recall her first steps. There is also occasional comic relief in Rachel’s courtroom, where Thurm’s signature black humor and spot-on thumbnail portraits leaven the appalling difficulties her petitioners face.
Actually, Thurm does know how to deliver her very sad news: with heartbreaking clarity and profound compassion.