More Than Enough
Cut along the dashed lines and pass the cards around the table.
Where did you do most of your reading of this one, and did the book start to take on the feeling of that chair or that hour of the day?
Before we talk about the book at all: what is one small thing in your week that felt like more than enough?
Quindlen is so good at the texture of ordinary rooms and ordinary mornings. Which detail made you put the book down for a second because it felt like your own house?
The title is a quiet argument about sufficiency. Reading it, did you feel reassured, or a little caught out, or some mix of the two?
This is a writer in her seventies looking back and around. Did her voice feel like a friend, a mother, an older sister, or something else entirely to you?
Was there a passage about family or home that you wanted to read aloud to someone? Who came to mind, and why them?
By the time you closed the book, had your private definition of 'enough' shifted at all, even by an inch? What moved it?
Quindlen lets things stay unresolved rather than tidy. Did you find that comforting or did part of you want her to promise you more? Sit with whichever answer is honest.