Genre Fiction
![Michelle Hoffman - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B0BJ16T27J.jpg)
The Second Ending: A Novel
A former prodigy who refuses to believe her best years are behind her and a young virtuoso searching for his passion both get an unlikely shot at their dreams in this sparkling debut about second chances, unexpected joys, and the miraculous power of music.
Prudence Childs was once the most famous kindergartner on the planet. After teaching herself to play piano at age three, she performed at the White House, appeared on talk shows, and inspired a generation to take up lessons. But as adolescence closed in, Prudence realized that she was being exploited and pushed into fame by her cruel grandmother, so she ran away. Broke and alone, she took a job writing commercial jingles, which earned her a fortune but left her creatively adrift.
Now forty-eight, with her daughters away at school, Prudence agrees to compete on a wildly popular dueling pianos TV show to reconnect with her inner artist. Unfortunately, her new spotlight captures the attention of her terrible ex-husband, Bobby, who uses the opportunity to blackmail her over a long-buried secret. If she doesn't win, she won't just be a musical failure; she'll also be bankrupt and exposed in front of millions.
Her on-air rival, virtuoso Alexei Petrov, a young internet sensation with a massive audience and a dreamy Russian accent, has problems of his own. His demanding parents made him a technically flawless pianist but left him without friends, hobbies, or any kind of life outside his music.
As they prepare to face off onstage, the retired prodigy and the exhausted wunderkind realize that the competition is their chance to prove to their bad exes, tyrannical family members, and, most important, themselves that it's never too late to write a new ending.
Prudence Childs was once the most famous kindergartner on the planet. After teaching herself to play piano at age three, she performed at the White House, appeared on talk shows, and inspired a generation to take up lessons. But as adolescence closed in, Prudence realized that she was being exploited and pushed into fame by her cruel grandmother, so she ran away. Broke and alone, she took a job writing commercial jingles, which earned her a fortune but left her creatively adrift.
Now forty-eight, with her daughters away at school, Prudence agrees to compete on a wildly popular dueling pianos TV show to reconnect with her inner artist. Unfortunately, her new spotlight captures the attention of her terrible ex-husband, Bobby, who uses the opportunity to blackmail her over a long-buried secret. If she doesn't win, she won't just be a musical failure; she'll also be bankrupt and exposed in front of millions.
Her on-air rival, virtuoso Alexei Petrov, a young internet sensation with a massive audience and a dreamy Russian accent, has problems of his own. His demanding parents made him a technically flawless pianist but left him without friends, hobbies, or any kind of life outside his music.
As they prepare to face off onstage, the retired prodigy and the exhausted wunderkind realize that the competition is their chance to prove to their bad exes, tyrannical family members, and, most important, themselves that it's never too late to write a new ending.
Editorial Reviews
"The heartwarming, feel-good debut of the year."-J. Ryan Stradal, New York Times bestselling author of The Lager Queen of Minnesota
"To say I loved it would be an understatement; this was quite unlike anything I've read. The one-liners had me laughing nearly every page, and I found it so moving."-Sarah Penner, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Apothecary
"Captivates the heart, right from the opening notes . . . thoroughly enjoyable, top-class entertainment."-Sarah Haywood, New York Times bestselling author of The Cactus
"Wild, witty, and bright. This is the novel for anyone who has ever wished they could reinvent their lives. I loved every page."-Amanda Eyre Ward, New York Times bestselling author of The Jetsetters
"To say I loved it would be an understatement; this was quite unlike anything I've read. The one-liners had me laughing nearly every page, and I found it so moving."-Sarah Penner, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Apothecary
"Captivates the heart, right from the opening notes . . . thoroughly enjoyable, top-class entertainment."-Sarah Haywood, New York Times bestselling author of The Cactus
"Wild, witty, and bright. This is the novel for anyone who has ever wished they could reinvent their lives. I loved every page."-Amanda Eyre Ward, New York Times bestselling author of The Jetsetters
Readers Top Reviews
Sue O.
At first, I found the story just a little slow to get into the nitty gritty. The characters felt bland and not much had me wanting to know more. Since it is very rare for me to DNF a book, I plugged away and in the end, I was happy with how the story eventually played out. You have characters who are flawed and who had similar upbringings although you may not have seen that from the start. Talent is only part of what makes a person successful at what they do. You also need passion and both Prudence and Alexei lost that along the way. Both will find it before the story ends and in unusual ways. A bit of suspense kept me wanting to find out how it all played out. A good start for a first time author with a bit of comedy and a few heartwarming moments as well.
Kerrin
The Second Ending is a charming comedy about two pianists who compete against each other in a reality show competition. Prudence Childs, now in her late 40s, was a child prodigy who gave up piano entirely to raise a family. The other competitor is the young host of the reality show Alexei Petrov's Dueling Piano Wars! Each of them must overcome fears and the strict upbringings that made them so successful to prepare for the competition. Since it happened early in the novel, I had to ignore my pet peeve of authors who give incorrect legal advice. First, we do not have debtors' prisons in America. Second, a lienholder does not "possess" a debtor's house and cannot prevent the sale of the property. Another thing I disliked was the way Prudence acted at the end of the competition. But those things aside, it was still very enjoyable.
Val Lawrence
I flew through this book. I found the premise to be fully original and engaging. Told through two points of view - both pianists - one at the prime of his career and the other looking backwards at what was and what could possibly be again. I loved the study of musicianship - the dedication required and the often found issue of over-bearing parents - many times living vicariously through their child. The subject was difficult at times - but the author adeptly infused humor into the story. There were several laugh out loud moments. This story is about finding your voice, finding your passion for your art , learning to block out those self-deceiving inner voices, taking chances, trusting your heart and finding community. I really enjoyed this one! Thank you to NetGalley and Random House - Ballentine for the ARC to read and review. Pub date: 5.30.23
JBJNYGteachlz
While the story was enjoyable overall, the large number of characters and slow pace made it a bit hard to follow and stay engaged at times. Music is a huge part of my life, so I really enjoyed that angle, as well as the humor. The story appears, at first, to be a romance ... but it's not! And I appreciated that. Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy, but I wasn't required to leave a positive review.
Short Excerpt Teaser
CHAPTER ONE
Prelude in E Minor
There were no more children at home. No more overflowing laundry hampers. No more backpacks in the foyer. It was just the two of them. Three if you included Mrs. Wintour, which Prudence did.
A week ago, Prudence and Stuart had dropped their youngest child off at a prestigious Midwest college with a clock tower, granite buildings, and stone statues. Their eldest was already attending a prestigious East Coast college with its own clock tower, granite buildings, and stone statues. Now that they were back home in the Southwest, back in the desert, Prudence wept at tiny boxes of raisins in the grocery store, reached for old bath toys in the closet. Catching a whiff of baby lotion was like being tugged into a time machine.
The absence of her daughters unmoored her. She had not expected how much she would miss those beautiful creatures who could delight her one minute and aggrieve her the next.
A child's world, Prudence had discovered when her girls were young, is only as large as what is around them. Her daughters never cared about their mother's storied childhood, how she'd played for two sitting presidents and had tea with Isaac Stern. They cared only that she could make mud pies and killer vegan tacos. Prudence gave her children everything she herself had been denied. She read them stories, taught them card games, and held them when they were sad. She nurtured them precisely so they would become independent adults. But the opposite had happened to Prudence along the way: She had grown dependent on them.
Prudence had tried to be brave the day she and Stuart dropped Becca off at college, but as she looked around at the cinderblock dorm room, a terrible thought occurred to her. She would never see Becca again.
"You okay, Mom?"
"Promise me you'll come back for Christmas and summer breaks?"
"Only if you don't turn my bedroom into a sewing room. Oh, wait, you already have one!" She hugged her mother. "Of course, I'll come back home."
Out in the hallway, Prudence could hear new roommates chattering while moms and dads lugged boxes and suitcases up the stairwells. The cheerful chaos depressed her almost as much as the worn linoleum floors. How can they all be so happy? She had to stop herself from popping her head out the door and yelling, "Which one of you has an extra Xanax?"
In an effort to delay the inevitable, Prudence began taking the clothes from Becca's bags and arranging them in the wardrobe.
"Mom, I want to do it myself."
"Just let me . . ."
Stuart placed a soft hand on his wife's shoulder. "It's time, Prudence. We have a flight to catch."
She squeezed Becca's shoulders. "If you cry, I'll cry," her daughter said.
Prudence wanted to do more than cry. She wanted to let out a guttural wail that would echo down the concrete hallway.
Instead, she said, "Don't forget me!"
To which Becca replied, "That would be hard to do, Mom."
Now, because she did not have to prepare dinner or run anyone to ballet lessons, Prudence lay listlessly in her chaise by the pool, where she indulged her new obsession with death.
The morbid thoughts had come without warning. She couldn't talk herself out of them. It was like falling in love suddenly and with the wrong person. It became a sickness. A fever. An illness with no known cure. She would die. Her memorial would attract gawkers. It wouldn't rain like it does in the movies. It'd be ridiculously hot. People would wear shorts and flip-flops. They'd bring their stupid water bottles and take pictures on their phones. They'd snap up those cheap plastic dolls on eBay first chance they got. Prudence at the Piano, they were called. Her grandmother had arranged for them, like that awkward Dick Cavett interview when she was eight-he'd asked what her favorite song was and she had replied, "Boogie Fever." Everyone laughed, of course, because he meant, what was her favorite song to play. Prudence would be remembered for that interview, which had racked up nearly three million views on YouTube.
"I'm going to die having been merely a circus act," she said to Mrs. Wintour. The eight-pound shih tzu cocked her head, and Prudence nodded the way you do when you're in the company of someone who just gets you. She stared out into the cinnamon-colored desert at the cholla and the brittlebush. It had been a rainless summer. The hot wind blew, the mesquite trees rattled, the yard was kindling. It just needed a spark.
It was six when the glass door slid open.
"There you are," Stuart said.
"Here I am," she said.
"Good day?" he asked.
"A day," sh...
Prelude in E Minor
There were no more children at home. No more overflowing laundry hampers. No more backpacks in the foyer. It was just the two of them. Three if you included Mrs. Wintour, which Prudence did.
A week ago, Prudence and Stuart had dropped their youngest child off at a prestigious Midwest college with a clock tower, granite buildings, and stone statues. Their eldest was already attending a prestigious East Coast college with its own clock tower, granite buildings, and stone statues. Now that they were back home in the Southwest, back in the desert, Prudence wept at tiny boxes of raisins in the grocery store, reached for old bath toys in the closet. Catching a whiff of baby lotion was like being tugged into a time machine.
The absence of her daughters unmoored her. She had not expected how much she would miss those beautiful creatures who could delight her one minute and aggrieve her the next.
A child's world, Prudence had discovered when her girls were young, is only as large as what is around them. Her daughters never cared about their mother's storied childhood, how she'd played for two sitting presidents and had tea with Isaac Stern. They cared only that she could make mud pies and killer vegan tacos. Prudence gave her children everything she herself had been denied. She read them stories, taught them card games, and held them when they were sad. She nurtured them precisely so they would become independent adults. But the opposite had happened to Prudence along the way: She had grown dependent on them.
Prudence had tried to be brave the day she and Stuart dropped Becca off at college, but as she looked around at the cinderblock dorm room, a terrible thought occurred to her. She would never see Becca again.
"You okay, Mom?"
"Promise me you'll come back for Christmas and summer breaks?"
"Only if you don't turn my bedroom into a sewing room. Oh, wait, you already have one!" She hugged her mother. "Of course, I'll come back home."
Out in the hallway, Prudence could hear new roommates chattering while moms and dads lugged boxes and suitcases up the stairwells. The cheerful chaos depressed her almost as much as the worn linoleum floors. How can they all be so happy? She had to stop herself from popping her head out the door and yelling, "Which one of you has an extra Xanax?"
In an effort to delay the inevitable, Prudence began taking the clothes from Becca's bags and arranging them in the wardrobe.
"Mom, I want to do it myself."
"Just let me . . ."
Stuart placed a soft hand on his wife's shoulder. "It's time, Prudence. We have a flight to catch."
She squeezed Becca's shoulders. "If you cry, I'll cry," her daughter said.
Prudence wanted to do more than cry. She wanted to let out a guttural wail that would echo down the concrete hallway.
Instead, she said, "Don't forget me!"
To which Becca replied, "That would be hard to do, Mom."
Now, because she did not have to prepare dinner or run anyone to ballet lessons, Prudence lay listlessly in her chaise by the pool, where she indulged her new obsession with death.
The morbid thoughts had come without warning. She couldn't talk herself out of them. It was like falling in love suddenly and with the wrong person. It became a sickness. A fever. An illness with no known cure. She would die. Her memorial would attract gawkers. It wouldn't rain like it does in the movies. It'd be ridiculously hot. People would wear shorts and flip-flops. They'd bring their stupid water bottles and take pictures on their phones. They'd snap up those cheap plastic dolls on eBay first chance they got. Prudence at the Piano, they were called. Her grandmother had arranged for them, like that awkward Dick Cavett interview when she was eight-he'd asked what her favorite song was and she had replied, "Boogie Fever." Everyone laughed, of course, because he meant, what was her favorite song to play. Prudence would be remembered for that interview, which had racked up nearly three million views on YouTube.
"I'm going to die having been merely a circus act," she said to Mrs. Wintour. The eight-pound shih tzu cocked her head, and Prudence nodded the way you do when you're in the company of someone who just gets you. She stared out into the cinnamon-colored desert at the cholla and the brittlebush. It had been a rainless summer. The hot wind blew, the mesquite trees rattled, the yard was kindling. It just needed a spark.
It was six when the glass door slid open.
"There you are," Stuart said.
"Here I am," she said.
"Good day?" he asked.
"A day," sh...
