According to Yes
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Dawn French, number one bestselling author of A Tiny Bit Marvellous and Oh Dear Silvia, returns with her joyously funny new novel, According To YES.
The Foreign Land of the Very Wealthy - otherwise known as Manhattan's Upper East Side - has its own rigid code of behaviour. It's a code strictly adhered to by the Wilder-Bingham family.
Emotional displays - unacceptable.
Unruly behaviour - definitely not welcome.
Fun - no thanks.
This is Glenn Wilder-Bingham's kingdom. A beautifully displayed impeccably edited fortress of restraint.
So when Rosie Kitto, an eccentric thirty-eight-year-old primary school teacher from England, bounces into their lives with a secret sorrow and a heart as big as the city, nobody realises that she hasn't read the rule book.
For the Wilder-Bingham family, whose lives begin to unravel thread by thread, the consequences are explosive. Because after a lifetime of saying no, what happens when everyone starts saying . . . yes?
'I adored According to YES. It's so different to anything I've read in forever, so charming, wise, brilliantly written. I loved it all' Marian Keyes
'There is lots of fun to be had reading this book. It's impossible not to warm to Rosie, a funny and open-hearted woman who acts as a salve and comfort blanket for this unhappy, inhibited family. There's something quite joyous about the way she unashamedly romps her way through the novel, changing the lives of those around her for the better' Express
'French can spin a yarn . . . which sets According to YES apart from the usual chick-lit template. Think the vicar of Dibley, without the dog collar. YES YES YES indeed' Independent
Further praise for Dawn French:
'A fantastic slam-dunk pageturner. Funny, enriching . . . page after page I laughed out loud' Mail on Sunday
'A hilarious snapshot of family life in the twenty-first century' Sunday Express
'Extremely funny' Sunday Times
'Dawn tackles the big ones - love, death, grief, childhood, motherhood, parenthood - head on' Guardian
'Makes you laugh on every page' The Times
'A brilliantly observed, very funny novel of family life' Woman and Home
'Funny, really enjoyable, highly recommended. A wonderful writer - witty, wise, poignant' Daily Mail
please, go ahead …’ Rosie is aware of muttered profanities in Polish as the boys attempt to pick up the sandwiches with their toes and aim for the other’s mouth. Of course, they miss. A lot. And bread drops on the floor, and hundreds and thousands spill out and crumbs are everywhere. Even Iva manages a few giggles through clenched teeth as she sees the twins lose themselves in the mischief of the moment. Heaven knows, she has seen them sit so quietly and well-behaved in this kitchen so often
It feels wretched to be living back with your parents when you’re fifty years old. Nothing reeks more of failure than the smell of your childhood bedroom when you’re an adult living in it. But here he is, in jogging pants, sitting up in his old teenage bed, with his laptop propped up on a pillow in front of him. Glenn taps lightly on the door, and immediately enters with all the entitled deftness of a rude chambermaid. He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, ‘Come …’ before she is in the
tenuous at best, and whose relationship with her own mental health and even her relationship with alcohol on occasion, might be brought into question should she choose to refute the claims. Don’t let this get ugly, Natalie. Trust me. Don’t.’ Everyone in the modernly sparse room is simultaneously aghast at the level of Glenn’s caustic smackdown, even her own lawyer, and especially her son, who has overtly slumped his head down on his folded arms on the table, so hideous is all this. He is
concerning shock and sugar. There was, of course, no sugar whatsoever in this uptown, uptight home, until Rosie turned up. Glenn regards it as utter poison, so Rosie hides the bowl in the cupboard with the cleaning cloths, somewhere Glenn would never go. Here and now, whilst Rosie feels wrung out, she shovels the sugar into the tea in three generous dollops, and proudly leaves the bowl out. So what? She is about to leave the kitchen, but for some reason she turns at the door and comes back in,
want you feeling so responsible, neither do I, neither does anyone. We’re all gonna look after her, you don’t have to be the one, OK? You don’t have to set fire to yourself to keep her warm. Seriously, Teds, go to college, kiss Izzy and be eighteen. Let the ol’ man pick up the slack, yeh? Do me that favour eh? Be part of it, of course, but no heroics necessary. I know you. You’d sacrifice it all. And you mustn’t, I mean it. Promise me.’ Teddy gets up and goes to his beloved grandfather, and they