Wally Lamb's latest protagonist is a messy dad — and may be too realistically flawed

Los Angeles Times

05-05-2025

Wally Lamb's first novel in nine years, 'The River Is Waiting,' opens with a devastating scene in which a troubled but devoted stay-at-home dad spikes his coffee with two splashes of Captain Morgan and pops an Ativan before getting into a car to drive his two-year-olds, Niko and Maisie, to their grandmother's. Corby's plan is to use the day pretending to job hunt, though in truth he's resigned to being unemployed after being laid off the year before from his position as a commercial artist at an ad agency. His wife Emily, a teacher, has already left for work, so he dresses the kids and brings them outside before realizing he's forgotten their diaper bag.
He buckles Maisie into her car seat while Niko studies a swarm of ants devouring cookie crumbs on their driveway. Corby retrieves the bag and starts the car. It's only upon seeing his neighbor gesturing wildly, then hearing her screams and the horrific crunching sound beneath his tires, that he realizes with horror what he's neglected to do.
As he proved with his astonishing first two novels, 'She's Come Undone' (1992) and 'I Know This Much Is True' (1996), as well as four well-received subsequent books, Lamb has a singular ability to unpack dysfunction and the cascading effects of trauma, which is among the reasons all six of his previous novels have been bestsellers — and the first two Oprah's Book Club picks. Compelled to give back after his out-of-the-gate success, Lamb for 20 years conducted writing workshops at Connecticut's York Correctional Institution for female offenders, and he has clearly drawn on that experience here: 'The River Is Waiting' is set almost entirely in prison after Corby is convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to three years behind bars.
In the days leading up to the judge's decision, Corby attends AA meetings, counseling sessions and frantically clings to his fraying marriage. Emily's grief is all-consuming, the tragedy exacerbated by the revelation of her husband's secret addiction to prescription drugs and alcohol. Through it all, she fights to shield her daughter from further harm, though Maisie, too, is increasingly distraught — and confused.
All of this should make for a compelling saga, but the fly in the ointment is that Corby is a narcissistic character less concerned with the enormity of his transgression than with how he can return everything to normal. He weighs whether to admit he was under the influence when the accident occurred, until a blood test makes that moot. He addresses his dead son, musing as to whether to plead guilty to the charges against him: 'Hey, little man, can you hear me?' he intones. 'Niko, what's going to happen if I tell the truth? Will your mother leave me? Will I go to prison?' To Corby's credit, he ultimately opts to come clean in the name of accountability.
Throughout the novel, Corby says he is consumed by guilt and remorse, and those emotions are present, but feel performative. We are told that he has frequent crying jags and bouts of insomnia, but we don't feel his despair. In his few conversations with Emily, he's often blithe, focused more on the inconveniences prison life poses or whether Maisie will remember him than on what his wife and daughter must deal with. In one such interaction, Emily attempts to reassure Corby that she's keeping his memory alive while he serves out his term: 'We look at pictures of you on my iPad and my phone, mention you in her bedtime prayers. And those drawings you've been sending her? We put them in her 'Daddy folder.' And her favorite — the ones of her and her dolls having their tea party? That one's Scotch-taped to her wall.' Corby's response: 'Well, lucky you, Emily. You can use Scotch tape. It's contraband here.'
I have no doubt that Lamb worked hard to faithfully reflect what he's gleaned about prison life, and has great sympathy for his character's plights. Yet much of what occurs feels cliched, as does much of the language and dialogue. Corby has a predictably difficult time with his first cellmate, Pug, until the heart of gold within the hardened criminal is revealed. Enter Manny, who becomes Corby's protector, and over time, his confidante. When Corby is sexually abused by a pair of guards, Manny suspects what has occurred and tries to get him to open up. Eventually, an investigation is initiated, and widespread wrongdoing is revealed. The resident librarian takes Corby under her wing, and invites him to put his artist skills to work by painting a mural, which proves cathartic. Yet Corby remains haunted by the incident with the guards, and by Emily's failure to forgive him.
'The River Is Waiting' is more than 400 pages long, yet the ending feels like an afterthought, wrapping up loose ends without satisfying the reader. To reveal Corby's fate would be a spoiler, but what disappointed me was the absence of an authentic epiphany; I was left feeling I'd spent years with a man who never truly reckoned with his regrets or learned from his mistakes. Maybe that's the more realistic scenario. Still, I yearned for a protagonist who hits bottom, then finds a way to evolve and transcend. Lamb has written an earnest, well-intentioned novel, albeit one with the promise of so much more.
Haber is a writer, editor and publishing strategist. She was director of Oprah's Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.