Genova's (Still Alice; Inside the O'Briens) latest book chronicles the sad demise of a concert pianist who is stricken with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease. Through memories and flashbacks, the novel details the tumultuous relationship of selfish musician Richard Evans and ex-wife Karina, who reconnects with him as his illness progresses. Like Jodi Picoult, Genova has found a literary niche featuring a protagonist dealing with unbearable illness. The structure of her stories can be formulaic, but Genova is sensitive in how she conveys the way an illness can shape and change family relationships. At times, her prose is marred by trite clichés and unnecessary explanations—the author is at her best when she trusts that her readers will understand what she is trying to express. She is honest and unflinching when it comes to the details of a disease, but when her characters aren't particularly likable, it's hard to care about what happens to them. VERDICT A disappointment for Genova's fans as her promising premise falls short in its execution.—Mariel Pachucki, Maple Valley, WA

Genova (Still Alice) captivates with the painful but unflinching story of the demise of celebrated concert pianist Richard Evans. The novel follows debonair Richard and his ex-wife Karina, once also a pianist, who have just undergone an acrimonious divorce after a long-poisoned marriage. Richard's sudden diagnosis with ALS and swift decline bring them under the same roof again as Karina moves back to take care of him, forcing them to confront long-buried truths about their relationship and themselves. The narration alternates between Karina, the sometimes bitter, always stalwart caretaker, and Richard, the patient who has lost his physical abilities, but gained emotional clarity. Genova meticulously catalogues the disease's physical ravages and corresponding psychological toll, which makes for gut-wrenching but suspenseful reading. The strained, frustrated, yet tender dynamic between Richard, Karina, and their grown daughter, Grace, occasionally spills into the saccharine, though the high emotion usually feels justified given the subject. The detail Genova infuses into each narrator's thought process, observations, and love for music makes them distinct, yet also reveals their compatibility. Genova also admirably refrains from making either too angelic; their harrowing journey, though it lacks any true narrative surprises, is both substantively informative about ALS and an emotionally wrenching psychological portrait. (Apr.)