The story of a married woman’s long-term affair with a younger man. An old story with new twists….. In Alice’s world, it all made sense. She told her husband, “I stopped cheating on you when I
started sleeping with Danny.” He finally understood, but too late. Alice Marcher is dying, but she is still trying to understand her life. She was thirty when she met Danny Shay. He was eighteen. Two years later, they were sleeping together. Twenty years later, they parted. Alice insisted, “It lasted so long, so it must have meant something, right? We weren’t a cliché, were we?
What others are saying already:
“Some art just points us at the direction it wants to take us. Other art takes us gently by the hand to lead us towards its goal. Larry Baker’s art in Love and Other Delusions does a bit of both, but most of the time it engages us more fully, in an deeply intellectual wrestling match with matters of the heart, if not the soul. And at its best, and for I what I suspect will be the case for many readers, the heart involved is our own.
Baker’s gift then is that he creates not only a story of his own characters, but a story of ourselves. Like our players in the play, our lives are sticky–no–doughy. Doughy with thorns. And we recognize the places where the characters find themselves, both geographically and emotionally. We also recognize their decisions, and even if we don’t necessarily agree with them, we can empathize. Baker writes well enough that their pain is our pain, their joy ours.”
—Robert Leonard, KNIA/KRLS Radio
“Deconstructing a relationship is a tricky thing. You have differing points of view, resulting in different versions of reality. Not to mention, the memory can be a tricky thing- keeping what it wants and discarding what it would rather not hold on to.
In Larry Baker’s Love and Other Delusions, we find ourselves immersed in the complicated, sometimes confusing relationship of Danny and Alice. Two people with seemingly little in common, who are inexplicably drawn to each other and spend two decades engaged in an elaborate dance of desire, denial and destruction.”
—Brenda Seward, Simple Pleasures Books and Gifts