This is the story of Henry and me. I wish it had a different end, Sylvia Landsman begins what is, in part, the story of her ill-fated romance. Divorced, alone, and unexpectedly unemployed, Sylvia escapes to Italy where she meets Henry, a middle-aged expatriate. Henry lives a tony life for which he pays a steep price: the chance to be happy. With his wife’s money bankrolling a grand tour, Henry and Sylvia travel a circuitous route. Sylvia entertains Henry with stories which unfold into stories of her peculiar family, her damaged friends, Alma Mahler, dead ducks. A tapestry of remembrances and regrets, these narrative threads foreshadow Sylvia’s shame: through a small, cowardly sin of omission, she betrayed her best friend. Yet when the opportunity arises for Sylvia and Henry to do something brave, the haunting refrain of if only leaves Sylvia with one more story of love lived, and lost.

As ever in Binnie Kirshenbaum’s work, the compassion and care for her deeply flawed characters is palpable, and her writing is fresh, dark, despairing, and hilarious.