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Philippa Hawkins' stories are like iridescent bubbles, escaping from the pages with their variegated topics--the newfound pleasure of a frustrated housewife, the unexpected copulation of a middle-aged couple on a beach, the poignant death of a father, glimpses from the twilight apartheid years in South Africa, a father's love that makes him bag the moon; the bubbles, glistening and rotating with their gritty, prosaic, yet enchanting style, eventually burst, leaving the reader yearning for more.--Charles Muller, Diadem Books ""Sometimes, I touch her face. I reach out, and her peachy smooth...