The Good Luck of Right Now

By Matthew Quick

From Matthew Quick, the New York Times bestselling author of The Silver Linings Playbook, comes The Good Luck of Right Now, a funny and tender story about family, friendship, grief, acceptance, and Richard Gere—an entertaining and inspiring tale that will leave you pondering the rhythms of the universe and marveling at the power of kindness and love.

For thirty-eight years, Bartholomew Neil has lived with his mother. When she gets sick and dies, he has no idea how to be on his own. His redheaded grief counselor, Wendy, says he needs to find his flock and leave the nest. But how does a man whose whole life has been grounded in his mom, Saturday mass, and the library learn how to fly?

Bartholomew thinks he’s found a clue when he discovers a “Free Tibet” letter from Richard Gere hidden in his mother’s underwear drawer. In her final days, mom called him Richard—there must be a cosmic connection. Believing that the actor is meant to help him, Bartholomew awkwardly starts his new life, writing Richard Gere a series of highly intimate letters. Jung and the Dalai Lama, philosophy and faith, alien abduction and cat telepathy, the Catholic Church and the mystery of women are all explored in his soul-baring epistles. But mostly the letters reveal one man’s heartbreakingly earnest attempt to assemble a family of his own.

A struggling priest, a “Girlbrarian,” her feline-loving, foul-mouthed brother, and the spirit of Richard Gere join the quest to help Bartholomew. In a rented Ford Focus, they travel to Canada to see the cat Parliament and find his biological father . . . and discover so much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Feb 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9780062285553

Matthew Quick

Matthew Quick is the New York Times bestselling author of The Silver Linings Playbook—which was made into an Oscar-winning film—and eight other novels, including We Are the Light, a #1 Indie Next Pick and a Book of the Month selection. His work has been translated into more than thirty languages, received a PEN/Hemingway Award Honorable Mention, was an LA Times Book Prize finalist, a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice, a #1 bestseller in Brazil, a Deutscher Jugendliteratur Preis 2016 (German Youth Literature Prize) nominee, and selected by Nancy Pearl as one of Summer’s Best Books for NPR. The Hollywood Reporter has named him one of Hollywood’s 25 Most Powerful Authors. Matthew lives with his wife, the novelist Alicia Bessette, on North Carolina’s Outer Banks.

Book preview

1

THE YOU-ME RICHARD GERE OF PRETENDING

Dear Mr. Richard Gere,

In Mom’s underwear drawer—as I was separating her personal clothes from the lightly used articles I could donate to the local thrift shop—I found a letter you wrote.

As you will recall, your letter was about the 2008 Olympics held in Beijing, China—you were advocating for a boycott because of the crimes and atrocities the Chinese government committed against Tibet.

Don’t worry.

I’m not one of those crazy types.

I immediately realized that this was a form letter you sent out to millions of people through your charitable organization, but Mom was a good enough pretender to believe you had personally signed the letter specifically to her, which is most likely why she saved it—believing you had touched the paper with your hands, licked the envelope with your tongue—imagining the paper represented a tangible link to you . . . that maybe a few of your cells, microscopic bits of your DNA, were with her whenever she held the letter and envelope.

Mom was your biggest fan, and a seasoned pretender.

There’s his name written in cursive, I remember her saying to me, poking the paper with her index finger. "From Richard Gere! Movie star RICHARD GERE!"

Mom liked to celebrate the little things. Like finding a forgotten wrinkled dollar in a lint-ridden coat pocket, or when there was no line at the post office and the stamp sellers were up for smiles and polite conversation, or when it was cool enough to sit out back during a hot summer—when the temperature dips dramatically at night even though the weatherman has predicted unbearable humidity and heat, and therefore the evening becomes an unexpected gift.

Come enjoy the strange cool air, Bartholomew, Mom would say, and we’d sit outside and smile at each other like we’d won the lottery.

Mom could make small things seem miraculous. That was her talent.

Richard Gere, perhaps you have already labeled Mom as weird, pixilated—most people did.

Before she got sick, she never gained or lost weight; she never purchased new clothes for herself, and therefore was perpetually stuck in mideighties fashions; she smelled like the mothballs she kept in her drawers and closet, and her hair was usually flattened on the side she rested against her pillow (almost always the left).

Mom didn’t know that computer printers could easily reproduce signatures, because she was too old to have ever employed modern technology. Toward the end, she used to say that computers were condemned by the Book of Revelations, but Father McNamee told me it’s not true, although we could let Mom believe it was.

I’d never seen her so happy as she was the day your letter arrived.

As you might have gathered, Mom wasn’t all there during the last few years of her life, and by the very end extreme dementia had set in, which made it hard to distinguish the pretending of her final days from the real world.

Everything blurred over time.

During her good moments—if you can believe it—she actually used to think (pretend?) that I was you, that Richard Gere was living with her, taking care of her, which must have been a welcome alternative to the truth: that her ordinary unaccomplished son was her primary caregiver.

What will we be having for dinner tonight, Richard? she’d say. Such a pleasure to finally spend so much time with you, Richard.

It was like when I was a boy and we’d pretend we were eating dinner with a famous guest—Ronald Reagan, Saint Francis, Mickey Mouse, Ed McMahon, Mary Lou Retton—occupying one of the two seats in the kitchen that were always empty, except when Father McNamee visited.

As I previously stated, Mom was quite a fan of yours—you probably visited our kitchen table before, but to be honest, I don’t remember a specific Richard Gere visit from childhood. Regardless, I indulged her and played my role, so you were manifested through me, even though I’m not as handsome, and therefore made a poor stand-in. I hope you don’t mind my having invoked you without your permission. It was a simple thing that gave Mom great pleasure. Her face lit up like the Wanamaker’s Christmas Light Show every time you came to visit. And after the failed chemo and brain surgery, and the awful sick, retching aftermath, it was hard to get her to smile or be happy about anything, which is why I went along with the game of you and me becoming we.

It started one night after we watched our well-worn VCR copy of Pretty Woman, one of Mom’s favorite movies.

As the end credits rolled, she patted my arm and said, I’m going to bed now, Richard.

I looked at her, and she smiled almost mischievously—like I’d seen the sexy fast girls do with their shiny painted lips back when I was in high school. That salacious smile made me feel nauseated, because I knew it meant trouble. It was so unlike Mom too. It was the beginning of living with a stranger.

I said, "Why did you call me Richard?"

She laid her hand gently on my thigh, and in this very flirtatious girlish voice, while batting her eyelids, she said, Because that’s your name, silly.

During the thirty-eight years we had known each other, Mom had never once before called me silly.

The tiny angry man in my stomach pounded my liver with his fists.

I knew we were in trouble.

Mom, it’s me—Bartholomew. Your only son.

When I looked into her eyes, she didn’t seem to see me. It was like she was having a vision—seeing what I could not.

It made me wonder if Mom had used some sort of womanly witchcraft and turned me into you somehow.

That we—you and me—had become one in her mind.

Richard Gere.

Bartholomew Neil.

We.

Mom took her hand off my thigh and said, You’re a handsome man, Richard, the love of my life even, but I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. You made your choice, so you’ll just have to sleep on the couch. See you in the morning. Then she floated up the stairs, moving quicker than she had in months.

She looked ecstatic.

Like the haloed saints depicted in stained glass at Saint Gabriel’s, Mom seemed to be guided by divinity. Her madness appeared holy. She was bathed in light.

As uncomfortable as that exchange was, I liked seeing Mom lit up. Happy. And pretending has always been easy for me. I have pretended my entire life. Plus there was the game from my childhood, so I had certainly practiced.

Somehow—because who can say exactly how these things come to be—over many days and weeks, Mom and I slipped into a routine.

We both began pretending.

She pretended I was you, Richard Gere.

I pretended Mom wasn’t losing her mind.

I pretended she wasn’t going to die.

I pretended I wouldn’t have to figure out life without her.

Things escalated, as they say.

By the time she was confined to the pullout bed in the living room with a morphine pain pump spiking her arm, I was playing you twenty-four hours a day, even when Mom was unconscious, because it helped me, as I faithfully pushed the button every time she grimaced.

To her I was no longer Bartholomew, but Richard.

So I decided I would indeed be Richard and give Bartholomew some well-deserved time off, if that makes any sense to you, Mr. Gere. Bartholomew had been working overtime as his mother’s son for almost four decades. Bartholomew had been emotionally skinned alive, beheaded, and crucified upside down, just like his apostle namesake, according to various legends, only metaphorically—and in the modern world of today and right now.

Being Richard Gere was like pushing my own mental morphine pain pump.

I was a better man when I was you—more confident, more in control, surer of myself than I have ever been.

The hospice workers went along with my ruse. I firmly instructed them to call me Richard whenever we were in the room with Mom. They looked at me like I was crazy, but they did as I asked, because they were hired help.

Hospice workers took care of Mom only because they were being paid. I wasn’t under any illusion that these people cared about us. They glanced at their cell phone clocks fifty times an hour and always looked so relieved when they put on their coats at the end of their shifts—like departing from us was akin to attending a wonderful party, like walking out of a morgue and into the Oscars.

When Mom was sleeping, the hospice workers sometimes called me Mr. Neil, but whenever she was awake I was you, Richard, and they were doing as I asked because of the money they were being paid by the insurance company. They even used a very formal, reverent tone when they addressed us. Can we do anything to make your mother more comfortable, Richard? they’d say whenever she was awake, although they never once called me Mr. Gere, which was okay with me, since you and Mom were on a first-name basis from the start.

I want you to know that Mom truly loved watching the Olympics. She never missed the games—she used to watch with her mother too—and watching gave her such great pleasure, maybe because she never left the Philadelphia area during her seventy-one years on earth. She used to say that watching the Olympics was like taking a foreign vacation every four years, even after they switched the winter and summer games to different years, and therefore the Olympics occurred every two years, which I’m sure you know already.

(Sorry for being redundant, but I am writing to you as Bartholomew Neil—unlike you in every way imaginable. I hope you will bear with me and forgive me my commonness. I am not pretending to be Richard Gere at the time of writing. I am much more eloquent when I am you. MUCH. Bartholomew Neil is no movie star; Bartholomew Neil has never had sex with a supermodel; Bartholomew Neil never even escaped the city in which you and I were born, Richard Gere, the City of Brotherly Love; Bartholomew Neil is sadly intimate with these facts. And Bartholomew Neil is not much of a writer either, which you have already surmised.)

Mom loved gymnastics, especially the triangle-torsoed men, who moved like warrior angels. She clapped until her palms were pink whenever someone did the iron cross on the rings. That was her favorite. Strong as Jesus on his worst day, she’d say. And she even watched the opening and closing ceremonies—every second. Every Olympic event they televised, Mom watched.

But when she received your letter—the one I mentioned earlier, outlining the atrocities committed against Tibet by the Chinese government—she decided not to watch the Olympics set in China, which was a great sacrifice for her.

Richard Gere is right! We should be sending the People’s Republic of China a message! Horrible! What they are doing to the Tibetan people. Why doesn’t anyone care about basic human rights? Mom said.

I must admit that—being far more pessimistic, resigned, and apathetic than Mom ever was—I argued futilely for watching the Olympics. (Please forgive me, Mr. Gere. I had little faith back then.) I said that our watching or not watching wouldn’t even be documented, let alone have any impact on foreign relations whatsoever—China won’t even know we aren’t watching! Our boycott will be pointless! I protested—but Mom believed in you and your cause, Mr. Gere. She did what you asked, because she loved you and had the faith of a child.

This meant I did not get to see the Olympics either, and I was initially perturbed, as this was a traditional mother-son activity in the Neil household, but I got over that long ago. Now I am wondering if Mom’s boycott, her death, and my finding the letter you wrote her—maybe these things mean you and I are meant to be linked in some important cosmic way.

Maybe you are meant to help me, Richard Gere, now that Mom is gone.

Maybe this is all part of her vision—her faith coming to fruition.

Maybe you, Richard Gere, are Mom’s legacy to me!

Perhaps you and I are truly meant to become WE.

To further prove the synchronicity of all this (have you read Jung? I actually have. Are you surprised?), Mom booed the Chinese unmercifully at the 2010 Vancouver games—even the jumping and pirouetting Chinese figure skaters, who were so graceful—which was just before I began to notice the dementia, if memory serves.

It didn’t happen all at once, but started with little things like forgetting names of people we saw on our daily errands, leaving the oven on overnight, forgetting what day it was, getting lost in the neighborhood where she lived her entire life, and misplacing her glasses repetitively, often on the top of her head—small everyday lapses.

(She never forgot you, though, Richard Gere. She talked to you-me daily. Another sign. Never once did she forget the name Richard.)

To be honest, I’m not really sure when her mental decline began, as I pretended not to notice for a long time. I’ve never been particularly good with change. And I didn’t think of giving in to Mom’s madness and being you until much later. I am slow to the dance, always late for the cosmic ball, as wiser people like you undoubtedly say.

The doctors told me that it wasn’t our fault, that even if we had brought Mom to them earlier, things would have most likely ended up the same way. They said this to us when we got agitated at the hospital, when they wouldn’t let us in to see Mom after her operation and we started yelling. A social worker spoke with us in a private room while we waited for permission to see our mother. And when we saw her, her head bandages made her look mummified and her skin looked sickness yellow and it was just so plain horrible, and—based on the concerned looks the hospital staff were giving us—we were visibly terrified.

On our behalf, the social worker asked the doctors whether we could have done anything more to prevent the cancer from growing—had we been negligent? That’s when the doctors told us that it wasn’t our fault, even though we’d ignored the symptoms for months, pretending away the problems of our lives.

Even still.

It wasn’t our fault.

I hope you will believe me, Richard Gere.

It wasn’t my fault, nor was it yours.

You sent only one letter, but you were with Mom to the end—in her underwear drawer, and by her side through me, your medium, your incarnation.

The doctors repeatedly confirmed that fact—that we couldn’t have done anything more.

The squidlike brain tumor that had sent its tentacles deep into our mother’s mind was not something we could have predicted or defeated, the doctors told us multiple times, in simple straightforward language that even men of lesser intelligence could easily grasp.

It wasn’t our fault, Richard Gere.

We did everything we could have done, including the pretending, but some forces are too powerful for mere men, which the social worker at the hospital confirmed with a reluctant and sad nod.

Not even a famous actor like Richard Gere could have secured better care for his mother, that social worker answered when I brought you up—when I shared my worry of being a failure at life, not even able to take care of his only mother, which was his one job in the world, the only purpose he had ever known.

Miserable failure! the tiny man in my stomach screamed at me. Retard! Moron!

The brain-cancer squid ended our mother’s life only a few weeks or so ago, a short long blur (that stretches and shrinks in my memory) after surgery and chemo failed to heal her.

The doctors stopped treating her.

They said to us—This is the end. We are sorry. Try to keep her comfortable. Make the most of your time. Say your good-byes.

Richard? Mom whispered to me on the night she died.

That’s all.

One.

Single.

Word.

Richard?

The question mark was audible.

The question mark haunts me.

The question mark made me believe that her whole life could be summed up by punctuation.

I wasn’t upset, because Mom had said her last word to the you-me Richard Gere of pretending, which included me—her flesh-and-blood son—too.

I was Richard at that moment.

In her mind, and in my own.

Pretending can help in so many ways.

Now we hear birds chirping in the morning when we sit alone in the kitchen drinking coffee, even though it is winter. (These must be either tough, hardy city birds unafraid of low temperatures, or birds too lazy to migrate.) Mom always had the TV blaring because she liked to listen to people talk, so we never knew about the birds chirping before. Thirty-nine years in this house, and this is the first time we ever heard birds chirping in the morning sunlight while we drank our coffee in the kitchen.

A symphony of birds.

Have you ever really listened to birds chirping—really truly listened?

So pretty it makes your chest ache.

My grief counselor Wendy says I need to work on being more social and forming a support group of friends. She was here in my kitchen once when the morning birds were chirping and Wendy paused midsentence, cocked her ear toward the window, squinted her eyes, and wrinkled her nose.

Then she said, Hear that?

I nodded.

A cocky smile bloomed just before she said—as only someone so young could—in this upbeat cheerleader voice, "They like being together in a flock. Hear how happy they are? How joyful? You need to find your flock now. Finally leave the nest, so to speak. Fly even. Fly! There’s a lot of sky out there for brave birds. Do you want to fly, Bartholomew? Do you?"

She said all of those words quickly, so that she was out of breath by the time she finished her cheery cheer. Her face was flushed robin’s-breast red, like it gets whenever she’s making what she considers to be a remarkably extraordinary point. She looked at me wide-eyed—kaleidoscope eyes, the Beatles sing—and I knew the response to her call, what I was supposed to say, what would make her so happy, what would validate her existence in my kitchen and make her feel as though her efforts mattered, but I couldn’t say it.

I just couldn’t.

It took a lot of effort to remain calm, because part of me—the evil black core of me where the tiny angry man lives—wanted to grab Wendy’s birdlike shoulders and shake all of the freckles off her beautiful young face while I screamed at her, yelling with a force mighty enough to blow back her hair, "I am your elder! Respect me!"

Bartholomew? she said, looking up from under her thin orange eyebrows, which are the color of crunchy sidewalk leaves.

I am not a bird, I told her in the calmest voice available to me at that time, and stared fiercely at my brown shoelaces, trying to remain still.

I am not a bird, Richard Gere.

You know this already, I know, because you are a wise man.

Not a bird.

Not a bird.

Not.

A.

Bird.

Your admiring fan,

Bartholomew Neil

2

THAT GUY HUNG OUT WITH PROSTITUTES

Dear Mr. Richard Gere,

In order to remedy the gaps in our collective knowledge of each other, I went to the library and googled you on the Internet.

Patrons are permitted to look up anything at the library except pornography. I know because I once saw a man (with gray dreads that made his head look like a dead dusty spider plant) get kicked out for viewing Internet pornography in the library. He was sitting next to me, rubbing his crotch through his filthy, incredibly baggy jeans. On his screen were two naked women on all fours like dogs licking each other’s anuses. They kept moaning, Ewwwww-yeah! and Mmmmmm-haaaa-YES! I remember laughing because it was so ridiculous. The women acting like dogs, not the fact that the man was kicked out.

(Do people really enjoy looking at women behaving in this manner? I find it hard to believe, but if it is on the Internet, there must be a market. And not just crazy library patrons either—but people with computers at home, where such viewing is allowed.)

An older librarian came over and said, This is not appropriate. Sir, you cannot behave this way here. This is entirely unacceptable! There are rules, sir. Sir, please.

The man yelled at the librarian, refusing to go. He said, I ain’t no sir! I’m a man! M-A-N MAN! H-U-M-A-N HUMAN B-E-I-N-G! which made the old librarian jump and take a step back. She did not like his spelling at her.

Everyone in the library had turned and was staring by this point.

I was glad The Girlbrarian was not there to see.

(The Girlbrarian would not have been able to deal with such a situation, and I like that about her. She’s beautifully slow to take action. She thinks about things a lot before she makes a move. I watched her once as she sorted through books that had been damaged. I don’t know for sure, but based on my observations, I guessed it was her job to decide which damaged books should be thrown away and which should be taped together and kept. Most people would have glanced cursorily and quickly tossed each book to its fate one way or the other, right or left, keep or trash, but she examined the books so carefully, turning each over and over like precious dead butterflies that she

Reviews for The Good Luck of Right Now

[novelcommentary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was an interesting story told in letters that were written by a 38-year-old man who still lives at home with his mother and who pretends to be Richard Gere in order to calm her during her last days of dementia ridden cancer. In addition to pretending to be him for his mother, he also writes him to explain what he is doing. During the course of the novel it becomes evident that our protagonist named Bartholomew Neil has some mental health issues and struggles to succeed in life. All he has ever done is take care of his mom. When his mother dies, he finds it confusing that his parish priest has decided to defrock himself from the Catholic Church and move in with Bartholomew. We see through his summaries of his therapy sessions that his life goal is to have an age-appropriate friend and have a drink in a bar. This is accomplished when he meets Max. Max also has some mental health issues and can't complete a sentence without using the word f...ing the middle of every other word. Max has a sister named Elizabeth but whom Bartholomew has coined the girlbrarian. These four characters go on a journey of self discovery in order to try to meet Bartholomew's real dad and for Max to finally see cat Parliament. As I said, it's an enjoyable story with an interesting point of view. It would prompt me to look further into more of this author's work.

[dorie.craig · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed reading this book. Just a lovely story. Sad in places, but overall positive and uplifting.

[drapple_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This novel is by Matthew Quick, the author of Silver Linings Playbook. Like that novel, this one features odd, broken characters who find a way to be whole by banding together. The story is told through letters written by Benjamin, the main character, to Richard Gere. Richard Gere is an imaginary friend for Benjamin, but he helps Benjamin find in his way in a world that he doesn't understand. He gives him courage when needed, and allows the world to see that Benjamin is a big-hearted man who simply needs to find his place. I loved the characters. I loved the way that Quick shows them as individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses. This is a novel that gives you hope for the world.

[iambookish-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Though I never read anything else by this author I did see "Silver Linings Playbook" and enjoyed that a lot, so I wanted to check out the author's writing style. A quick read (how apropos) that dealt with mental illness in a way that neither demeaned the sufferers nor downplayed its problems. I'm now anxious to go back and read other books in this author's repertoire.

[thoughtbox-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Easily among the top 3 epistolary novels addressed to Richard Gere I've ever read - no qualification.

The thing I like about Matthew Quick (having read this and The Silver Linings Playbook) is the realism he brings to characters and situations. I don't think a single one of the people who populate his works could be classified easily via archetype or caricature. Each of them is a living, breathing (FLAWED) human.

It's the kind of writing that can be difficult to read, if only because it seems awkward to be intruding on someone else's life in so personal a way. But it's definitely worth making your way through.

[yvonne.sevignykaiser · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Read this one for 52 weeks 52 books online group this is 2014 week 9.

Filled with a full cast of flawed characters. You want the best for Bartholemew who takes care of his mom whose brain has been ravaged by cancer. He m u st pretend to be Richard Gere for her until she dies. In dealing with her death he continues to write and talk to Richard. It takes a deflocked priest, a girl abducted by aliens, and her brother with Tourettes to help him find his way.

[bookczuk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Read this over thanksgiving on my e-reader. Unfortunately my notes are gone, (and my memory not what it once was) but I liked it a great deal. I like the idea of the good luck of right now.ebpc

[grandpahobo_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I purposely waited a couple of days after I finished it before writing this. The more I thought about the overall tenor of the story and how it ends, the more I liked it. This is not a story with a traditional happy ending. Nor is the main character (or any of the characters for that matter) someone for whom you would have a tremendous amount of empathy or admiration. They are simply average people trying to get along as best they can. And the author shows you the simple beauty of that.

[trinitym82 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is very endearing. You learn through the main character's letters to Richard Gere, about this man's struggles to find his place in the world after his mother's death. He is mentally underdeveloped, though you're not told how - whether it is autism just simple-minded-ness, but his innocence is endearing. You figure things out before he does, but that doesn't frustrate you. He tries to help his priest, Father McNamee, his grief counselor, Wendy, and his new friends, Max and Elizabeth, but has varying degrees of success. You root for each, (even though Max says fuck about every sentence, which can be a bit trying). It combines the philosophy of Buddhism, the religion of the Catholic church - but just the good parts- and the idea of the good luck of right now - that whatever bad luck you are having means that someone else is having excellent luck. and that where you are is where you are suppose to be. So you have to accept the bad things, in order to practice compassion, so that others can experience happiness, as the world needs to be in balance. It is a good life philosophy.

[kremsa-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another excellent "quirky" book from Matthew Quick. The Good Luck of Right now is the witty poignant story of Bartholomew Neil's attempt to move on after losing his mom to brain cancer. He is a forty year old that may be on the spectrum and is now on his own. His story is told through letters that he pens to Richard Gere. The book is rich with well developed characters that are as equally flawed as Bartholomew if not more so. It is so refreshing to read something so original!

[susan.h.schofield · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I won a signed copy of this book from Goodreads. I love the movie Silver Linings Playbook but had never read anything by Matthew Quick. This book was great and I will definitely be reading more of his books. It was sweet and funny and filled with quirky characters that you wanted to see succeed.

[mlake_22 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bartholomew is a strange and lonely man and I sort of wish I knew him. When his mom dies he is adrift and starts writing letters to Richard Gere (his mom's favorite actor). The letters chronicle his meetings with a grief counselor, the angry man in his gut, his crush on the Girlbrarian and his friendship with her foul mouthed brother. Bartholomew loses his mom but gains a family in this quirky sad silly strange book.

[schatje_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is another of those books I would not have read if it had not been chosen by the library book club to which I belong. It is trite and sentimental, the type of book that appeals to those who don’t like to be challenged in their reading.This is an epistolary novel. The narrator, Bartholomew Neil, writes a series of letters to Richard Gere, his mother’s movie idol, after his mother’s death. He has no friends so choses to have Richard Gere as his confidant as he tries to find his way through life without his only real friend. He relates all that happens to him, including his encounters with a group of misfits with whom he eventually takes a road trip to Canada.A major problem with the book is this gang of misfits; there is not once character who could be described as normal. So many dysfunctional characters (a grief counsellor who is in an abusive relationship, an alcoholic bi-polar priest, a man who fears being abducted by aliens and who cannot say two words without one of them being an expletive, a woman traumatized by her childhood) made it very difficult for me to connect with anyone. Bartholomew is not only a misfit, but he behaves inconsistently. At times he seems like a naïve, sensitive soul, almost a holy innocent; at other times, he is very observant and eloquent. Sometimes he seems a high-functioning autistic, but then he yearns for social contact. He describes himself as “fatherless + fat + jobless + Mom is your only friend” (182). Is he just a middle-aged Momma’s boy?The novel becomes more and more bizarre. By the time the pilgrimage to Montreal and Ottawa takes place, I was losing patience. Then, conveniently, Bartholomew is befriended by a fairy god-father in the guise of a “well-dressed and tall Canadian” (278). The use of a rescuer destroys any pretenses this book might have had as a bildungsroman or a journey of self-discovery.The sentimental philosophy espoused by Bartholomew is further evidence of the book’s shallowness. He adopts his mother’s belief that if something bad happens, “something good happens – often to someone else” (153), so he must be grateful for both the good and the bad. This Pollyannaish feel-good attitude will appeal to those who love self-help books. My book reviews tend to be lengthy; the fact that this one is fairly short is telling. There is not much to say. The book is superficial so it is not possible to discuss it in any depth. It is fluff that will appeal only to a non-discriminating reader.

[cheriedooryard · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

There was excessive quirk going on here--an entire novel narrated by a stunted shut-in via letters to Richard Gere?--and a predictable plot and yet, it still somehow worked. I wouldn't read it again, but I still enjoyed it.

[iudita_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I don't mind quirky but I thought this was juvenile at times. Not that it didn't have redeeming qualities but it wasn't a good choice for me.

[narshkite · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Well...that wasn't good. I take that back. It is an excellent movie treatment and I am sure it will do some boffo box office. The book though, the book is pretty terrible.I knew nothing about this author until someone recommended this book and told me it was the guy who wrote Silver Linings Playbook. I was charmed by that movie and was looking for a light audiobook so I figured, "why not?"" Now I know why not. In looking for info on the writer I learned that until SLP he wrote YA, and that explains a lot. This is a YA book with characters in their 30's. Same plot as always. Misfit who feels totally out of synch with others and is abused and/or marginalized by others. Misfit person has adventures and ends up finding a tribe of misfits and finding love. Misfit is then healed and able to move forward, energized by his/her caring for the others in the new tribe. The ending was so sweet that it included a freaking fairy godmother (well, godfather) and rainbows and sunshine and unicorns. I gave this one instead of two stars because I am quite certain it will make a good movie, and that is worth something. Right here I am going to call for the triumphant return of Rainn Wilson for the lead and a move into dramatic work for Kristin Schall as the girlbrarian and Louie CK as her intellectually challenged profane felinephile brother. Anthony Hopkins is the priest, there is no substitute.

[marybeth9476 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved it, from the first word to the last.

[thessaly_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I had high expectations after Silver Linings. However, I was disappointed. Bartholomew on his own was all right. I empathized with him. But then, I began to hate some of the aspects of his experience. The term "Girlbrarian", the f-this, and 'what the f- hey' every single time. It was unnecessary and divorced me from the point of the book. I already had figured out about the father, and skimmed the last section.

[brainannex · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

For me, not as potent as his YA books but still good.

[jules72653 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Cute book written as letters from Bartholomew, the main character to Richard Gere, who Bartholomew sees as his cosmic advisor. Bartholomew did seem to mature and grow throughout the book, even though he was a 40 year old man who to this point, had never left home. Max, a character we meet about 2/3 of the way in has a potty mouth and the F bomb in every sentence quickly grew old.

[romonko · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a truly wonderful book. So sad and poignant, but also hopeful too. It's a book that made me feel happy and I was so grateful that I took the time to read it. The book is about Bartholomew Neil. Bartholomew is a 38 year old man who has never lived anywhere else but with his mother. He had attended school as a youngster but was bullied and made fun of throughout. He has never held a job. He is a man whose whole life was his mother. When the book opens his mother has just recently died from brain cancer and Bartholomew is trying to see his way through is grief with the help of the Catholic Church and in particular Father McNamee. He is working with a young grief councilor as well. None of these things is really helping him try to make sense of his mother's passing. Bartholomew is a simple soul and the world terrifies him, especially without his mother there to help him. He finds a letter in his mother's things that was supposedly sent by Richard Gere, and even though the letter is decades old, and is only a form letter requesting aid for Tibet, Bartholomew believes that Richard Gere can help him get on with his life. The book is made up entirely of letters that Bartholomew has written to Richard Gere. In each of these strangely intimate letters, Bartholomew unburdens himself and asks for help in trying to understand the so many things in the world that don't make any sense to him. Somehow Bartholomew teams up with the eternally drunk Father McNamee, the girl of his dreams whom he calls the Girlbrarian because she works in the library he frequents and her cat loving, foul-mouthed but kind and simple brother Max. All four of these damaged people set off on a journey together to Canada from Philedelphia in search of Bartholomew's father and the cat sanctuary in Ottawa which Max calls Cat Parliament. On this voyage Bartholomew finds his direction and the peace he has been looking for. This book hit a note with me and it was because of the wonderful characters that Matthew Quick has drawn. They are a motley crew yes, but they are so very real. I couldn't put the book down, and I highly recommend it. And I wondered as I finished what the real Richard Gere would have made of these letters if he had received them. I was also grateful to learn about the history of the Cat Sanctuary located in Ottawa on the Parliament grounds. A little piece of Canadiana that I wasn't aware of.

[thewanderingjew_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

At first, I did not know what to make of this book. A 39-year-old man, Bartholomew Neil, is overly attached to his mother, and he is grieving after her death. An errant priest, Father McNamee, off his meds and suffering from bi-polar disease, believed G-d once spoke to him but since has ceased. He has defrocked himself, and moved in with Bartholomew. He tells him G-d will now speak through Bartholomew instead. He will tell them how to go forward in life. He recommends that he has grief counseling and Wendy, not bound too tightly either, enters the picture and tells him to create life goals. She is in a terrible abusive relationship and is unable to help herself, let alone anyone else. At the counseling session Bartholomew attends, at her recommendation, he meets another rather dysfunctional, simple-minded 39-year-old young man, Max, bereft over the loss of Alice, who turns out to be a cat. Max is coincidentally the brother of a girl Bartholomew has eyed and loved from afar, Elizabeth, the girlbrarian at his local library. Bartholomew wonders, is this synchronicity? Max speaks mostly in curse words and believes his sister was abducted by aliens. Elizabeth is very skittish and depressed since she and her brother are about to be evicted from there apartment. There isn’t a “normal” character among them! Bartholomew’s only job, his whole life, was to care for his mother. He has no idea who supported them or how their bills got paid, they simply got paid. He believes his father was murdered. He is dysfunctional, his development seems arrested, he was bullied as a youngster, has never had a friend or female relationship, has an “angry man” (ulcer?) dwelling in his stomach. He yells at him and punches him, from the inside, when he is confused or unable to act. Bartholomew is an innocent; he thinks simplistically about all problems and sometimes, because he has no guile, he seems like the brightest bulb in this box of dim lights. He analyzes others and incidents with the most straightforward insights. He exhibits compassion and offers uncomplicated explanations about THE GOOD LUCK OF RIGHT NOW. Bartholomew’s mother believed that in every event there was an opposite, so if you had misfortune, fortune would follow. When they were robbed and their home was trashed, she was grateful for, and enjoyed, the company and support of others. She thought that was THE GOOD LUCK OF RIGHT NOW. When his mother dies, he discovers a letter from Richard Gere, hidden in her drawer, and although it is not a personal letter, but one that is mass produced to raise money for Tibet, he imbues it with greater meaning. The book is infused with Budhist messages and philosophical phrases. Bartholomew engages in a one-sided letter writing mission with Richard Gere, (alter ego, imaginary friend?) in which he seems to believe that they are friends, and Gere is his confidante offering needed advice and support. Either in his imagination or hallucination, Richard often appears to guide him. Bartholomew wants to help others. Is this a weakness? Sometimes his optimism seemed ludicrous and at others, wondrous. One could say he enjoys taking in strays. At the end, I wasn’t so much surprised by what happened, but I felt I could sum the whole book up by saying “will the real Richard please stand up?” All in all, it is a rather sweet and tender story about a group of characters that feel unloved and unwanted, unnecessary and useless. Together, will they find happiness? It does sound a little trite as I write the review, but the humor holds it together and the simplistic narrative doesn’t tax the brain. The conclusion is clear-cut, lemons turn into lemonade, Bartholomew is the quintessential caregiver and fairy tales come true. This odd bunch of misfits found each other and created a viable family which satisfies all their needs.

[stephanieloves · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

At thirty-nine, Bartholomew Neil still isn't ready to leave his mother's nest, but when he loses her to cancer, he's left with no other choice. His once-stable, once-routine world—of just him, his mother, and God—crumbles to pieces when one of his biggest role models, Father McNamee, consequently denounces himself from the Catholic church, and in turn, becomes more than just a religious father figure to Bartholomew, by becoming a human being.Convinced that his other beloved role model, Richard Gere, is watching over him now that God no longer is, Bartholomew begins a one-way correspondence; these letters are what make up the entire novel. This fantasy relationship he creates is the only thing that still connects him to his deceased mother, considering she was Richard Gere's biggest fan, and the sole belief that he is guiding Bartholomew as if they were old friends, leads to unexpected discoveries and profound self-inquiry.The unique narrator is what stood out to me, first and foremost. It is not a shock that Quick would write a protagonist who isn't quite normal—one who clearly suffers from a mental disorder, but internally, is the same as any and all of us: deeply, imperfectly human. Bartholomew isn't a grand hero, no, but he glows with sincerity and is a compassionate, warm character; his brilliantly observant and self-recognizing tone will capture the hearts of readers just as that of The Silver Linings Playbook did.Matthew Quick is skilled not only at providing perspective, but also at conveying the necessity of pretending—not out of delusion, but out of self-preservation—and the sheer magic of believing—whether through faith or through faithlessness. While the book is stylistically simple, it will make you think hard and think long; Bartholomew's introspection on religion, political correctness, and the nature of existence, will make your mind turn. There are moments where you'll disbelievingly relate, and resultantly be touched—fate—and the way the story proceeds rather messily, but falls into place, piece by piece—synchronicity—will provide immense comfort; this is a story for the soul. Whether through acts of God or through coincidence, Bartholomew's life changes gradually at the discovery of an unlikely cast of new friends, and through little achievements that propel him forward further than he could imagine; it is you, the privileged reader, who gets to go along for the ride.Pros: Requires deep thinking // Will make you reconsider the stigma of mental health disorders // Interesting perspective of a man's "delusions" // Casual, mellow style // Moves quickly; easy to read and keep reading // Story itself is synchronous as it comes into full circle // Distinct, unforgettable characters // Emotional, heartfeltCons: Plot isn't terribly exciting; it's more the details and Bartholomew's day-to-day observances that make it interesting // Rushed, inconclusive endingVerdict: Pensive, honest, and appropriately quirky, The Good Luck of Right Now meditates upon the power of correspondence, the catharsis of confiding, and the definition of believing. Through writing descriptive, intimate letters to his lifelong idol—the ultimate coping mechanism—Bartholomew learns about independence, acquaintance, and ever-burning hope—a remedy for both him, and for readers all around. Fans of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime will rejoice in Matthew Quick's newest novel for its genuine, thoughtful reflections and its propensity for happy outcomes in the tumbling-together of stray paths.Rating: 8 out of 10 hearts (4 stars): An engaging read that will be worth your while; highly recommended.Source: Complimentary copy provided by publisher via tour publicist in exchange for an honest and unbiased review (thank you, Harper Collins and TLC!).

[seeword · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Oh,my!I spent the first few pages of this book wondering if I would want to finish it. The people were so odd--all of them. Then I spent a couple of chapters wondering how Bartholomew would survive the loss of his mother when the people who were supposed to help him were all so much in need of help themselves. Then I stopped worrying and learned to love these people and their story.I am in awe of Quick's ability to tell this story with warmth, humor, and understanding. I read a library copy, not an ARC

[kellywoodward · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Here’s the thing about Matthew Quick: he’s an ace at writing an unreliable, disturbed narrator. (Note that I haven’t read all of his works; I’m judging this by Silver Linings Playbook and The Good Luck of Right Now.) The problem with that (for me, at least) is that I find it infinitely frustrating to read a book by a narrator that’s hiding something, not just from me, but from himself. It’s the literary equivalent of banging your head against a wall, and I don’t particularly enjoy it. (Exception to this: The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I found it stunning the first time I read it, and it was just as strong when I re-read it last year.)Even though I find his narrators frustrating, there’s no denying Matthew Quick’s talent. He creates memorable, unique characters, and I enjoy watching things happen to them. His stories are sweeping and personal, all at once. The pain and struggles are universal, but the characters are still one of a kind and experience these things in their own ways.Here are a couple of trends I’ve noticed in both books which make me think that, even though he’s a gifted writer, Quick might need to branch out a bit in his settings and themes:main character is in denial/disconnect about a negative experienceM.C. is physically large and intimidating to othersMC has profound thoughts, but everyone around him assumes that his thinking is simplisticM.C.’s family feels the need to protect him from the worldabsent father/misunderstood by fathersetting: suburb outside of an industrial northeast cityNone of these elements makes for a bad story; I just like to see more diversity in an author’s body of work. This may be why I’ve stopped picking up Chuck Palahniuk’s stuff. If you like a very specific type of book, he cranks ‘em out. But if you want something new, look elsewhere. Is this the case with Matthew Quick? I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to read more of his stuff to decide.All in all: Not a bad book by any means, but with all the other excellent books out there, I wouldn’t be quick (ha!) to recommend this one.Note: I received a free review copy of this book via Goodreads's First Reads program.

[twink_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Matthew Quick's last novel The Silver Linings Playbook was turned into an award winning movie. His newest book The Good Luck of Right Now gives us another wounded protagonist to root for. Bartholomew Neil is nearing forty when his mother dies from cancer. Having never held a job, lived on his own and with no friends, he is unsure of what to do next. He starts to puzzle things out in letters written to actor Richard Gere. (Mom's favourite) These missives are heartbreaking in their honesty. " I get sidetracked easily by interesting things, and for this reason, people often find it hard to converse with me, which is why I don't talk very much to strangers and much prefer writing letters, in which there is room to record everything, unlike real-life conversations where you have to fight and fight to fit in your words and almost always lose." Bartholomew and his mother were faithful church goers and he does find some solace from parish priest Father McNamee. But he's not too sure about his grief counsellor Wendy, although they do set a life goal for Bartholomew - to have a drink with a friend in a bar. What Bartholomew would really like to do is meet the Girlbrarian at the library he frequents every day. Bartholomew is a great believer of Synchronicity by Carl Jung. Some might call it coincidence or destiny. Bartholomew's mother had her own twist on it - "For every bad thing that happens, a good thing happens too - and this was how the world stayed in harmony." Whatever way you choose to look at it - Bartholomew's life seems to be full of coincidences that may help him find his place in the world. Quick has written another great book full of decidedly quirky characters and odd situations. I'm not sure why, but I am drawn to characters that are outside of the mainstream view of life. Their struggle to fit in and find a place for themselves. Most of all, it is their optimism, their steady one foot in front of the other, their acceptance of everyone that appeals to me. Bartholomew embodies all that. As he says..."Well, if there weren't weird, strange and unusual people who did weird things or nothing at all, there couldn't be normal people who do normal useful things, right?" The Good Luck of right now is an unusual narrative told from a decidedly different character - one that you shouldn't spend too much time analyzing or trying to fit into a mold. The situations and connections are just as different - but who's to say they couldn't happen? Just go with it - and see where Bartholomew ends up. I quite enjoyed The Good Luck of Right Now - maybe it was meant to land in my mailbox?! (PS There's one scene in the library involving a patron viewing questionable material - I was laughing out loud. As a employee of a public library, I can tell that Quick did not exaggerate this scene!)

[ecataldi-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Oh Matthew Quick, stop being so damn adorable! This book has so much heart, charm, and wit that I don't even think my review can begin to do this book justice! If you loved any of Quick's other works (Silver Lining's Playbook, Boy21, Forgive Me Leaonard Peacock, Sorta Like a Rockstar) then you are guaranteed to love this one as well. Quick has an uncanny ability to bring to life the most flawed, unconventional, unimaginable characters and then make us care for them with such zeal that it's almost frightening. All I can say is read this damn book. You won't regret it. Quick is a mastermind and his beautiful prose and quirky characters will stick with you long after you put the book down!

[lisa875 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Five is just not enough stars. This book made me decide that I will read everything this author writes. I loved it. It is written in the form of letters to Richard Gere and I didn't really know what to make of it at first. The best way I can explain it is that the book asks why some people live glossy, beautiful lives and some people live lives where horror is an every day or at least frequent visitor. Through the letters, Bartholomew is reaching from his end of the spectrum to the other side. Are the kindnesses and grand gestures of celebrities any different than the kindnesses and grand gestures of the uncelebrated? This book shows that yes, of course they are. Matthew Quick has a special sensitivity for the mentally ill and the misfits of the world. He had it in Silver Linings Playbook and he has it here too. I love that. I work in a library so I appreciated the library references and he has a great sense of humor. Loved the "default platitude" of the grief counselor as Bartholomew described it. It's a small thing but you'll have to read it to find it. Awesome book. I have to thank Goodreads for the early copy of this one.

[karieh_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

“The Good Luck of Right Now” was a nice book to read – but I was surprised by the very light tone. It is the story of Bartholomew Neil, a man who has led an incredibly sheltered life with his mother. When she dies, it seems to follow that he would be wracked with grief, unsure how to proceed in the world…but the story that follows doesn’t seem to match the circumstances of his character and his life.Instead, he seems to draw people to him. Of the people he encounters, he seems the stable one, the more worldly. Despite the greatest loss of his life, Bartholomew seems rather unperturbed and ready to help other people deal with their problems.I would say that is part of his character, except that he is capable of great emotion – especially in the case of a woman he yearns to be with. He does care, he is capable of great emotion – it just doesn’t come across through much of the book.“But back to the monks – I’m not sure I would light myself on fire for any cause whatsoever, and sometimes I worry that I just don’t believe enough in any one thing to make a significant contribution to the world, now that I no longer have to care for Mom.”The aspect of this book that I enjoyed the most was the way that Bartholomew developed his philosophy of life. He has learned most of what he knows of the world from his mother – yet once he is more fully a part of the world – he finds himself not doubting, but questioning her ideas. “Do you believe that? That in order for someone to win, someone else has to lose; and in order for someone to become rich, many others must stay poor; and in order for someone to be considered smart, many more people must be considered average or below average intelligence; and in order for someone to be considered extremely beautiful, there must be a plethora of regular-looking people and extremely ugly people, as well; you can’t have good without bad, fast without slow, hot without cold, up without down, light without dark, round without flat, life without death – and so you can’t have lucky without unlucky either.”The character of Bartholomew Neil comes across as very wise and brave (despite the fact that he has visions and conversations with Richard Gere) – and many of his observations are wonderful.“Her eyes are sometimes the color of a May sky at 2:00 p.m. on a Saturday, and sometimes they are the color of polar bear ice.”“And what is reality, if it isn’t how we feel about things? What else matters at the end of the day when we lie in bed alone with our thoughts?”“…life was always evolving and changing, and therefore, no matter how much we’d like to, we would never ever have that moment again – even if we tried with all our might to re-create it, going so far as wearing the exact same clothes even, we would fail, because you cannot beat time; you can only enjoy it whenever possible, as it zooms by endlessly.”Although I was never able to fully reconcile his character in my mind, I enjoyed “The Good Luck of Right Now”. Except for the WILDLY irritating constant repetition of a certain expletive – this was a pleasant read.

[bookmagic_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I think Matthew Quick has a lot of talent. I greatly enjoyed The Silver Linings Playbook and was horrified at what they did for the movie. I was excited to read this one and I was not disappointed. 38 year old Bartholomew Neil has always lived with his mother and her death is very upsetting. His mother loved Richard Gere and was very excited to once have received a letter from him encouraging support for Tibet. As her disease progressed she began to think Bartholomew was Richard. And he kept up the pretense. To feel closer to her once she dies, Bartholomew writes letters to Richard and this story is told through his letters. As with his first book, Quick creates an offbeat, touching story with quirky but interesting characters.Bartholomew has a grief counselor, Wendy, who may need him more than he needs her. Father McNamee is his bipolar, alcoholic parish priest who quits the priesthood and moves in with Bartholomew. That was the only part I didn't love. He kept referring to Bartholomew getting a sign from God. It was obvious what he meant. There is also the Girlbrarian, a girl that works at the library he has a crush on and her brother whom he meets in a brief therapy session Wendy sets up for him.The story is sweet and though not quite as smooth as Silver Linings. But I think many will find this an enjoyable and touching read.