THE PALM HOUSE

Vignettes of a London life provide glimpses of connection—some loving, some glancing.

Riley’s particular ear for linguistic nuance and eye for pinpoint detail are as distinctive as ever in her seventh novel, a short, low-key yet persuasive portrait of Laura Miller and her longtime friendship with magazine editor Edmund Putnam. We first encounter the pair in a London pub on the south bank of the Thames on the occasion of Putnam’s departure from the helm of Sequence magazine. This city, this work, and this man are at the heart of the narrative, interrupted by glimpses of Laura’s earlier life. The affectionate, mutually satisfactory relationship with Putnam is a rarity in Laura’s world. Her relationship with her mother has been uneasy, with moments of closeness set against the older woman’s “mixture of hyperbole and deprecation.” Other episodes and involvements from Laura’s past are evoked with visual clarity, including a holiday in Dubrovnik and, at age 15, a crush on a minor stand-up comic who exploits her innocence during a visit she took to London from her home in Liverpool (delivered in grim detail). London’s role in the narrative is constant and complex, both a marker of Laura’s student and adult lives and a vibrant locus of history, literature, money, and more. The passage of time also carries thematic value; the scattering of a parent’s ashes in the briefest of paragraphs is a standout moment. Other telling moments touch on the magazine community, fads and fashions, and the shifting of jobs and intimacies. On one level, this is an account of an ordinary existence short on plot developments; on another, it’s a subtly calibrated observation of how a person’s world turns.

Riley elevates the everyday to exceptional heights.