Delphinium Books

Newman’s trio of novellas about desert misfits are by turns probing, incandescent, and like her shorter fiction, riotously funny and are certain to broaden her readership.

A vibrant novel that portrays the lives of an American woman fleeing the trauma of abuse in her childhood and an Iraqi refugree fleeing the trauma of war, each in the midst of childbirth, that Joyce Carol Oates praises as” breathtaking, heartrending, and finally uplifting” and Richard Ford exclaims “involved me so thoroughly that I began to anticipate how it would end.”

Lorraine and Will, New Yorkers married for 15 years, are having their first baby, via IVF. They are 40, successful in their careers—finance and music—with pasts that have held each of them back from one another until the day While We Were Waiting unfolds: the day in the middle of Lorraine’s sixth month when she is rushed to the high-risk obstetrics unit of Met U Hospital. Over the next hours Lorraine and Will, individually, are compelled to face themselves and their pasts in ways they’d never thought possible.

Into the waiting room where Will struggles with his present and past enters Clement, an archeologist, newly arrived in America—fleeing ISIS in Iraq, plagued by the memories of a terrorist attack, the husband of another patient making his own sense of the extremes that prevail with high-risk births. The agony of this waiting husband stems as much from his own traumatic circumstances as from fear for his wife and unborn child. As the space shared by Will and Clement expands with every hour and revelation. Lorraine’s labor compels her to let go of the terrible harm done to her as a child, making While We Were Waiting a story about the power of acceptance and the resilience of love.

A stylish satire set in pandemic New York City that pokes at capitalism, creativity, loneliness and love all against the background of a frantic modern moment. 

Maya is a young freelancer helping to stage ultra-luxury apartments in Manhattan. She’s mastered having a great attitude despite being kind of a mess. She’s good at her job but what she really wants is to be an artist, even if, let’s admit it, her art is making puppets - not that there’s anything wrong with that.

When the Covid lockdown hits, Maya flees her crummy flat in Queens and stows away in a conveniently vacant, brand new super-high rise penthouse, the kind built for oligarchs and billionaires. From her gilded, if empty, perch she recovers from the events of the run up to quarantine: a string of humiliations at work, frustrations with her “ex-with benefits,” her fraught relationship with her sister, as well as several man-children with whom she’s either flirted or slept with on one or two occasions. One after another of these characters seek refuge at the penthouse with Maya, forcing her to finally stake out a territory to call her own. She emerges as the summer of social justice protests captivates the world. Maybe in the grand scheme of things she’s not so messed up after all. (Who are we kidding, of course she is.)

WHEN 45-YEAR-OLD MARI SARKISIAN WYATT, A FREELANCE COPY EDITOR, DECIDED TO HAVE A THIRD CHILD, SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS GETTING INTO, EXCEPT THAT A WOMAN HER AGE HAD A SUCCESS RATE OF LESS THAN 5% WITHOUT HELP. 

MARI wanted to take advantage of her state’s insurance mandate requiring HMO plans offered by large companies to cover infertility treatments (including three cycles of in vitro fertilization). With an undergraduate degree from Princeton and a master’s degree from Stanford, she worked for two years as a grocery bagger for a large supermarket chain in order to receive this coverage. Meanwhile, she interviewed dozens of younger, sometimes desperate women who were willing to sell their eggs in order to their rent. Pregnant at last, she endured months, then years, of ill effects, risking her health and even her life. Along the way, she met other couples who had suffered even worse setbacks and unimaginable tragedies.  

MARI SARKISIAN WYATT is a pseudonym for an Armenian-American who received her B.A. from Princeton and her M.A. from Stanford, both in English. After being deemed unemployable by multiple job agencies in her Midwestern hometown, she moved to New York City, where she worked in publishing for over a decade. Deciding that it would be too difficult to raise a family in Manhattan, she and her husband, Wesley, moved back to the Midwest, and she became a freelance copy editor to work from home, not imagining that her first child would be diagnosed with autism, which at the time, the early 1990s, was rare and considered untreatable. She and Wesley spent the first six years of their son’s life inventing therapies for him, then despite being in her forties, Mari decided that he needed a brother to teach him how to be a guy. What began as a nice idea—to have a child using assisted reproductive technology—quickly turned into an all-consuming obsession, and she spent six more years trying to fulfill that goal. Writing under a different name, Mari is the author of four romances and the co-author (with her now adult son) of two self-help guides for the parents of special-needs children.

Grief, the transformative power of art, the meaning of family, and housing affordability are the subjects of this story about a young theater director returning to her childhood home after her mother’s unexpected death.

Gwen Rivlin, 27, wants to keep the big, shabby house with a turret in which she and her mother both grew up, but everyone tells her it’s crazy: too expensive and too suburban for her. Her schemes to stay in the house keep running up against single-family zoning laws and the disapproval of the neighbors. To help the town wrestle with the way it’s changing, and to assuage her grief, Gwen stages a production of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard—a play about a family struggling to hold onto its own real estate—in the turret house, casting friends, coworkers from the local coffee shop, and various community members, including her estranged-best-friend’s mother. Through the creation of this beautiful and transitory work of art, Gwen heals old breaches, reevaluates her relationship with her difficult mother, and weaves a new, non-traditional family for herself.

In early 1980s Detroit, during the year following the drunk driving death of their alcoholic mother, a chorus of family voices grapple with haunting memories of the joys, regrets and the strains of love that will reverberate throughout all of their lives.

During a Detroit winter’s last snowfall in 1980, feeling fine after a few too many drinks, Hannah Fallon crashes her car through a cyclone fence and into an elm tree, leaving behind a messy wake of love and grief through which her family must wade in the year following her death. The story of the Fallon family, told in retrograde beginning a year out from Hannah’s death through the family members’ varying viewpoints, explores the humor, love, and rancor of a family grappling to keep their tight-knit bonds from unraveling. This elegy of family life under siege, written with Cheeveresque wit, clarity, and intensity, fulfills the promise of a long-awaited first novel.

A woman retreats from academic life in New York City to manage a family goat farm in New England, a novel that Richard Russo calls “splendid and provides what I crave from all stories: vividly drawn characters worth spending time with and a richly rendered place for them to inhabit."  

Lucy Richard has enjoyed a two-decade-long, successful career in public relations in New York City when she feels compelled to move back to rural Massachusetts to try to save her father’s farm. Returning to her childhood home at age 47 is hard enough, but the difficulties multiply once she’s settled in: her determination to raise dairy goats and make cheese is hampered at first by her total inexperience, and then by the sudden loss of her farming mentor. To make matters worse, her husband, Michael, who followed her to the farm reluctantly and who has made a disastrous financial decision, is suddenly in severely declining health. 

Lucy finds solace in Sandy, a girlhood companion who quickly becomes more than a friend, but their new intimacy places the Richard farm in the crosshairs of Sandy’s employer, a solar energy company. How Lucy contends with the precariousness—at once financial, physical and emotional— of her new life, and with the competing passions and obligations that grow within and around her, is at the heart of this intimate drama of love and loss, of desire and friendship, and of the alluring possibilities of second acts.

A complex family drama with a Manhattan family court judge at its center.

I Don’t Know How to Tell You This focuses on Judge Rachel Sugarman and her life both inside and outside the courtroom. Rachel is part of a close Jewish family whose lives are marked by significant emotional challenges, including the painful recognition that her beloved husband is slowly being diminished by memory loss, and the past trauma of her mother-in-law, a prickly Holocaust survivor who, in old age, continues to struggle with her grief. 

Rachel’s career as a judge and the power she wields in her courtroom offer an intimate look at a woman navigating what is still, in the 21st century, a profession most often dominated by men. The novel explores the very topical issues of child and spousal abuse, which color the dark undercurrent of the courtroom scenes. And though it reflects serious issues, there is very clearly a pitch-black comic sensibility at work throughout the novel.  By turns sad and touching and quirkily humorous, I Don’t Know How To Tell You This is vintage Marian Thurm.  

When a Hollywood producer comes to Oriana at the end of her life to propose a movie, the story unfolds of her gutsy career rise as a journalist, her tragic love, and her greatest regret.

Oriana Fallaci was born a rebel. She fought beside her father at age fourteen in Italy’s Resistance against the Nazis and overcame poverty, the lack of a university education, and relentless sexism in the newsroom. By 1973 when she moved to New York, Oriana Fallaci was hailed by Newsweek as the greatest interviewer of her day. She became famous for her courageous and hard-hitting interviews with Kissinger, Arafat, Meir, Khomeini and other world leaders—not to mention the most prominent celebrities and artists of her day.

That same year, 1973, she did what no journalist is supposed to do: she fell in love with one of her subjects, Alexander Panagoulis, the Greek poet and hero. She was 44, he was 34; they lived in different countries. It didn’t matter. Oriana had finally found what she longed for: a full life. But can a woman ever have it all, or does life always exact a price?

Oriana is the first novel about the glamorous and fearless Italian journalist whom Christiane Amanpour has called her role model for asking tough questions—and who holds a place beside Mike Wallace and Barbara Walters when naming world-class interviewers. This biographical novel tells the story of one of the first women to break through the glass ceiling of journalism, a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak truth to power and who revolutionized her field, all while trying to balance her career with love and happiness.