He let a stranger move into his house. Then he let the stranger move into his life.
Richie is a worn-down, blue-collar Midwesterner who has spent years getting by on less than he deserves and
calling it contentment. He paints over the stain on his bedroom ceiling instead of fixing the leak, because
the leak is a someday problem - and Richie is very good at someday.
When a commanding houseguest settles into his home, Richie welcomes it. Piece by piece, he surrenders his
marriage, his habits, his sense of who he is - and tells himself, in his own gentle, unreliable voice, that
this is what a good man does.
He never sees what's being taken from him. The reader sees everything.
A quietly devastating study of avoidance and complicity, Someday Is the Easiest Word I Know is domestic
literary fiction for readers who love an unreliable narrator and the slow, dawning dread of a character
study where the truth lives in everything the narrator won't say.
Some men don't lose their lives all at once. They give them away - one someday at a time.