The Common Wife: Getting Lost, Dancing Naked & Collecting Seashells

For anyone who has felt, even for a moment, the 'missingness' of an unlived life and wondered what to do about it.

When Lindy's husband discovers that she has been living a secret life as a burlesque dancer, all while he has been home watching football, he is not amused. To keep the peace, she stops performing, and that's when things fall apart. Perimenopause (whatever that is) does not help, and Lindy finds herself in some curiously compromising situations. There is Thor, the stuntman from Texas, Satya with the dreadlocks and camper-van, beautiful Adam, and the Crazy.

In the midst of a hot flush, Lindy remembers her destiny (bestowed on her by Father Ignatius at Catholic school when she was fifteen years old) to save the world. So, on her fifty-first birthday, she tells her husband that she can no longer be married. She needs to find her Big Life, the one that doesn't include a picket-fence house in the suburbs with a minivan in the driveway. Since her husband is, above all, a practical man, he suggests that she go for a walk to think about things before making any final decisions.

Forgetting that she doesn't like walking, Lindy heads to Northern Spain with her purple backpack, Petunia. With blistered toes and a swollen ankle, she stomps along the sacred soil of the Camino de Santiago in search of God (if he exists), forgiveness (if that is possible), and herself (whomever the hell that is). With no guidebook and no sense of direction, she gets lost. Very lost. In that lostness, she is forced to stare the serpent in the eye, have it out with Jesus, and face her naked truth.

Told with audacious honesty, The Common Wife is the irreverent memoir of one woman's pilgrimage to the Ends of the Earth. Think Bridget Jones's Diary, combined with Eat, Pray, Love and Wild. Add a bunch of pilgrims, a toolbox filled with glitter, Satan on a mountaintop and pole-dancing Jesus. Not for the fainthearted....

For anyone who has felt, even for a moment, the 'missingness' of an unlived life and wondered what to do about it.

When Lindy's husband discovers that she has been living a secret life as a burlesque dancer, the glitter hits the fan. Perimenopause (whatever that is) does not help, and Lindy finds herself in some curiously compromising situations. There is Thor, the stuntman from Texas, Satya with the dreadlocks and camper-van, beautiful Adam, and the Crazy.

In the midst of a hot flush, Lindy remembers her destiny (bestowed on her by Father Ignatius at Catholic school when she was fifteen years old) to save the world. So, on her fifty-first birthday, she tells her husband that she can no longer be married. She needs to find her Big Life, the one that doesn't include a picket-fence house in the suburbs with a minivan in the driveway. Since her husband is, above all, a practical man, he suggests that she go for a walk to think about things before making any final decisions.

Forgetting that she doesn't like walking, Lindy heads to Northern Spain with her purple backpack, Petunia. With blistered toes and a swollen ankle, she stomps along the sacred soil of the Camino de Santiago in search of God (if he exists), forgiveness (if that is possible), and herself (whomever the hell that is). With no guidebook and no sense of direction, she gets lost. Very lost. In that lostness, she is forced to stare the serpent in the eye, have it out with Jesus, and face her naked truth.

A cross betweenBridget Jones's DiaryandEat, Pray, Love, The Common Wife is the audaciously honest, irreverent memoir of one woman's pilgrimage to the Ends of the Earth.

For anyone who has felt, even for a moment, the 'missingness' of an unlived life and wondered what to do about it.
When Lindy's husband discovers that she has been living a secret life as a burlesque dancer, the glitter hits the fan. Perimenopause (whatever that is) does not help, and Lindy finds herself in some curiously compromising situations. There is Thor, the stuntman from Texas, Satya with the dreadlocks and camper-van, beautiful Adam, and the Crazy.

In the midst of a hot flush, Lindy remembers her destiny (bestowed on her by Father Ignatius at Catholic school when she was fifteen years old) to save the world. So, on her fifty-first birthday, she tells her husband that she can no longer be married. She needs to find her Big Life, the one that doesn't include a picket-fence house in the suburbs with a minivan in the driveway. Since her husband is, above all, a practical man, he suggests that she go for a walk to think about things before making any final decisions.

Forgetting that she doesn't like walking, Lindy heads to Northern Spain with her purple backpack, Petunia. With blistered toes and a swollen ankle, she stomps along the sacred soil of the Camino de Santiago in search of God (if he exists), forgiveness (if that is possible), and herself (whomever the hell that is). With no guidebook and no sense of direction, she gets lost. Very lost. In that lostness, she is forced to stare the serpent in the eye, have it out with Jesus, and face her naked truth.

A cross between Bridget Jones's Diary and Eat, Pray, Love, this is the audaciously honest, irreverent memoir of one woman's pilgrimage to the Ends of the Earth.

For anyone who has felt, even for a moment, the 'missingness' of an unlived life and wondered what to do about it.
When Lindy's husband discovers that she has been living a secret life as a burlesque dancer, the glitter hits the fan. Perimenopause (whatever that is) does not help, and Lindy finds herself in some curiously compromising situations. There is Thor, the stuntman from Texas, Satya with the dreadlocks and camper van, beautiful Adam, and the Crazy.

In the midst of a hot flush, Lindy remembers her destiny (bestowed on her by Father Ignatius at Catholic school when she was fifteen years old) to save the world. So, on her fifty-first birthday, she tells her husband that she can no longer be married. She needs to find her Big Life, the one that doesn't include a picket-fence house in the suburbs with a minivan in the driveway. Since her husband is, above all, a practical man, he suggests that she go for a walk to think about things before making any final decisions.

Forgetting that she doesn't like walking, Lindy heads to Northern Spain with her purple backpack, Petunia. With blistered toes and a swollen ankle, she stomps along the sacred soil of the Camino de Santiago in search of God (if he exists), forgiveness (if that is possible), and herself (whomever the hell that is). With no guidebook and no sense of direction, she gets lost. Very lost. In that lostness, she is forced to stare the serpent in the eye, have it out with Jesus, and face her naked truth.

A cross between Bridget Jones's Diary and Eat, Pray, Love, this is the audaciously honest, irreverent memoir of one woman's pilgrimage to the Ends of the Earth.