by Erin Dutton

A love that has smoldered for years ignites when two women and one little boy come together in the aftermath of tragedy.

An early morning hotel fire turns out to be anything but routine, and firefighter Reid Webb's best friend and partner, Jimmy Grant, dies. Guilt-ridden and grieving, Reid feels responsible for her partner's young son, Chase. She would do anything for him, even if that means spending far too much time in the company of the woman she's harbored feelings for since high school. Isabel Grant doesn't know anything about raising children. But when she returns to her hometown to assume custody of her orphaned nephew, she gets a crash course. Isabel's struggle to keep her footing in the midst of chaos is further complicated by her growing attraction to Reid, a woman whom Isabel blames for her brother's death.

"How had the pair of elderly Jewish lesbians survived the Nazis?" Janet Malcolm asks at the beginning of this extraordinary work of literary biography and investigative journalism. The pair, of course, is Gertrude Stein, the modernist master "whose charm was as conspicuous as her fatness" and "thin, plain, tense, sour" Alice B. Toklas, the "worker bee" who ministered to Stein's needs throughout their forty-year expatriate "marriage." As Malcolm pursues the truth of the couple's charmed life in a village in Vichy France, her subject becomes the larger question of biographical truth. "The instability of human knowledge is one of our few certainties," she writes.

The portrait of the legendary couple that emerges from this work is unexpectedly charged. The two world wars Stein and Toklas lived through together are paralleled by the private war that went on between them. This war, as Malcolm learned, sometimes flared into bitter combat.

Two Lives is also a work of literary criticism. "Even the most hermetic of Stein's writings are works of submerged autobiography," Malcolm writes. The key of 'I' will not unlock the door to their meaning you need a crowbar for that but will sometimes admit you to a kind of anteroom of suggestion. Whether unpacking the accessible Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, in which Stein solves the koan of autobiography, or wrestling with The Making of Americans, a masterwork of magisterial disorder, Malcolm is stunningly perceptive.

Praise for the author:

"[Janet Malcolm] is among the most intellectually provocative of authors . . .able to turn epiphanies of perception into explosions of insight." --David Lehman, Boston Globe

Not since Virginia Woolf has anyone thought so trenchantly about the strange art of biography.