In her debut novel Late Air, Jaclyn Gilbert explores the physical and psychological repercussions of repeated trauma, as seen in the life of Murray, a Yale running coach in his sixties, whose world unravels after his top runner suffers an inexplicable accident one morning while training. Not only is Murray’s professional authority called into question as he tries to exonerate himself, but he falls prey to self-doubt, flooded with inescapable memories from his past: a shattered marriage, the tragedy involving his young daughter, his reproving father, and his own unfulfilled dreams.

A former Yale college runner herself, Gilbert captures the psychological nuances of Murray’s highly obsessive, perfectionistic perspective. She also investigates with authenticity the experience of young women runners, struggling to cope with body image and eating issues in the high-pressured landscape of Division I athletics in the Ivy League.

Reading Gilbert’s novel, I was often reminded of the writing of one of my all-time favorite authors, Virginia Woolf. In Late Air, one can almost touch the fragmented nature of reality, the words breathe; they carry an unmistakable pulse. (more…)

— 3 days ago