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LOVE AND BIOLOGY AT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE by Jennie Shortridge
On Sale: May 6^th
Paperback
400 pages
ISBN-10: 0451223888
ISBN-13: 9780451223883

When she learns that her college sweetheart husband has been seeing another woman, Mira Serafino's perfect world is shattered and she wants no one, least of all her big Italian family, to know. She heads north --- with no destination and little money --- stopping only when her car breaks down in Seattle. She takes a job at the offbeat Coffee Shop at the Center of the Universe, where she'll experience a terrifying but invigorating freedom, and meet someone she'll come to love: the new Mira.

Jennie Shortridge lives in Seattle, WA with her husband, and juggles her time between writing novels and working in the community to foster literacy. Visit her website at

One day, as so many women do, school teacher Mira Serafino wakes up and realizes that her life is not all that she thought it was. Her husband and college sweetheart, Parker, is seeing another woman, and her adult daughter, Thea, is angry and uncommunicative.

After a drunken party and a near close encounter with a bad boy, Mira decides that the only thing to do at this juncture is to leave the mess that is her life behind in the small town of Pacifica, Oregon, and find a new place --- where she can be herself once she discovers who that self is.

Part of Mira's problem is that she has always tried to be the good girl. But as every good girl learns sooner or later, the time comes to quit putting the needs of others first and stand up for what you want out of life. What is it that Mira truly wants, and how is she going to find out?

Her car's mechanical breakdown strands her in Seattle, Washington, where she takes the first job she comes across, which just happens to be at the quirky Coffee Shop at the Center of the Universe. It's a particularly ironic twist of fate as her husband's business back home is a coffee shop.

While Mira feels lost and alone at first, she slowly but surely makes friends and finds a new family among her offbeat co-workers and customers. She also has the company of her dog, Patsy Cline. Though her heart still mourns her marriage to the man she thought she knew and the daughter who continues to reject her, for the first time in her life, Mira is putting Mira first.

Mira the perfect mom, perfect wife and perfect worker has taken a backseat to Mira the brave. The different setting and people who don't know her free Mira from the bondage and expectations of her Italian family, her previous position as a teacher and society as she knew it.

LOVE AND BIOLOGY AT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE is a fun and unpredictable novel. Jennie Shortridge --- author of RIDING WITH THE QUEEN and EATING HEAVEN --- is full of insight about life, which she weaves seamlessly into the pages of a story that most women can relate to. This is a work of fiction that surpasses the standards of most of the books you'll find on the shelves. It's comprised of memories from Mira's childhood, flashes of her daughter's life and an up-close-and-personal view of the new life Mira has forged for herself.

    --- Reviewed by Amie Taylor

A Conversation with Jennie Shortridge

Q: With your first two novels, Riding with the Queen and Eating Heaven, you created fictional stories using your own life experiences. Have you mined your own life again for Love & Biology at the Center of the Universe?
A: Geographically, yes. I'm in love with the coast of Oregon, and wrote some of this book while at a writer's retreat there. And now I live in Seattle on a hill that overlooks Fremont, and I hear that little bridge rising every so often, and see the seaplanes buzzing down the canal from my home office window. But personally speaking, not quite as much. I've never had children, or been a biology teacher, or lived in a small town, or gone through a separation from my husband, but I do know the pain of feeling abandoned, which I think is at the heart of this story.

I'm also in the midst of my own perimenopausal craziness and brain fog, and the bewilderment over what it all means about who I am and who I am becoming. Am I still a sexual being, a biological woman? Obviously I'd like to think I always will be, but we get such weird messages from society about it. And I think I've always struggled with the whole "good girl/bad girl" construct, wanting only to be seen as "good." I am a people-pleaser, a middle child, a Libra, and, of course, female, so I have it in spades. But I'm getting better.

Q: Right. Mira begins the story as the "perfect" wife and mother, but we quickly see that façade crumble as the story progresses. Is she inherently a good person with naughty tendencies, or a bad girl who just wants to be good? Is there a difference?
A: Well, that's the thing. She's both. I think that probably most of us have some duality in our personalities, our natures, and we can have a hard time reconciling the two, as Mira does at first. The more important thing is to be true to yourself, and that's Mira's challenge in the story: to discover what that means for her.

Q: Your characters' names are often evocative of their inner states or personalities. Tell us about some of the names you chose for the characters in this book.
A: The main character, Mira Serafino, is named for her saintly mother. Mira means "light of the world," and Serafino means "angel." She's almost obligated by her name to try to attain sainthood, which is, of course, impossible.

Mira's husband's name is Parker, and there is a point in the story at which she sees him as parked, unmoving. Their daughter Thea is a bit theatrical, but also kind of wise, and this old Greek name seemed appropriate. Nonna is simply the Italian word for grandmother; Alfonso a name I just like. It feels big and friendly to me. I wanted Gus and Doug to be fairly simple, fun-loving guys, so I gave them guttural one-syllable names. Kind of like, "Dude!"

What I really had fun with were the band names… and here's a little secret: the Twang Gods first appeared in Riding with the Queen. I brought them back because I loved their name so much. I wanted them to have their proper due.

Q: You tackle big life issues in your novels --- including mental illness, homelessness, addiction, and death and dying in your previous books. In Love & Biology, we have a woman facing menopause, empty-nest syndrome, and the break-up of her marriage. Do you specifically set out to chronicle certain issues, and why?
A: I think I did at first, and probably pretty obviously to deal with some things I'd been through in my own life: having a mentally ill mother, never making it as a musician, being with someone I cared about who was dying. In this book, the issues I care deeply about have to do with how we view women at mid-life, and how we feel about ourselves. I think one of the most invisible populations on this planet is mid-life women! People no longer seem to see you, or place value in you. I don't know if it has a biological underpinning --- we're no longer viable baby-makers so we have less biological importance --- but I think we actually have so much more social relevance. We're wise, we're caring. We're strong --- we've been through so much and survived it. And we're funny, and sexy, dammit!

Q: Yes, it's refreshing to have mid-life women portrayed as sexual beings, and your protagonists certainly show that aspect. Does that just flow as a natural part of your character development, or do you make a conscious effort to include sexuality? And do you ever surprise yourself at what you've written?
A: Well, I always aim to write fully human characters, and sexuality is part of that. Even if you're asexual or non-sexual, that would be relevant to who you are. In this story, Mira's sexuality is at the core of her journey. She's been denying it for so long, trying to tamp it down, but that doesn't actually make it go away. By becoming a more sexual being, she becomes more herself. And yes, I do surprise myself with the sex scenes. I don't know where they come from. Matt, my husband, likes to tell people they don't come from real life --- he thinks that's funny. All I can say is I write fiction. I like making up stuff.

Q: In the story, Mira and her grown daughter Thea have had a difficult relationship, especially as Thea tries to gain independence from her mother. You don't have children, yet you seem to know this dynamic intimately. Did you and your mother have a hard time separating as you became an adult?
A: Oh, yes. I don't think my mom knew who she was if she was no longer a mother. She had a hard time when I moved out, and I was the third out of four to leave. Mira tries to exert control and Thea pulls away more. I remember that feeling very well. It was difficult, and I was angry with my mom for a while. My sisters have children who are coming of age now, and I feel close to all of them, so I still feel the pull, in both directions. I can look at it from both sides now, to misquote Joni Mitchell.

Q: Your readers often write to you, thanking you for sharing stories so personal that they feel they could be written about themselves. What do you hope your readers will take away from this book?
A: My readers are wonderful. They do write and share their stories, and it really touches me. And the book groups are great fun to talk with on the phone; we always have great conversations. With this book I just hope to break apart some of the myths and rules around being a middle-aged woman, to say it's okay if you still don't know what the heck it all means, or what you want out of life, or how to be a good wife and mother and daughter and sister and friend. As long as we're trying our best, and growing, and as long as we're being true to ourselves, I think we're on the right track.

Chapter One

On the Friday morning before Christmas break, twisting south on Highway 101 and engrossed in the soaring voice of k.d. lang singing perhaps the saddest love song Leonard Cohen ever wrote, Mira Serafino found herself thinking about the ropy hip muscles of a young man she'd slept with in college, shuddering in a way she hadn't in years.

Jesus, she thought, where did that come from?

A burst of sunlight slashed through the forest and into her eyes. She lowered the visor, but the sun was lower. Fumbling for sunglasses in the Subaru's console, she took her eyes from the road for what seemed a second. Beneath her, the tires vibrated over the asphalt's raised lane markings as k.d. sang hallelujah, hallelujah, and Mira sensed rather than saw the thicket of blackberry brambles flattening as the passenger side slammed to a halt against a towering Western red cedar.

Her first thought was, "Thea!" although it had been years since her daughter rode with her to school in the mornings. Her left hand gripped the wheel and her right arm barricaded the empty passenger seat. An acidic taste filled her mouth, tin and bile. Adrenaline, she thought, noting her rapid heartbeat, the tingling in her hands and feet. Her body had involuntarily reacted by inducing the fight or flight response, something that always amazed her, even after so many years explaining it to students.

The car was still running --- how could that be? --- and k.d. moved on to a waltz, equally as sad. "Oh god," Mira said, "oh god, oh god," bringing her cold hands to her face as if to check that her head was still there. Out of habit, she traced the thin scar down her cheek with her forefinger, feeling where the tiny ridge bumped out from a bad stitch, then receded and disappeared.

Slowly, she twisted her head from side to side, wondering if there was such a thing as side whiplash. "Holy Jesus," she said, though not in prayer. How had she let this happen? But she knew the answer. In the past year or so her mind had become foggier than the Oregon coast in December and no matter how many ginkgo and fish oil and black cohosh pills she swallowed, no matter how many crossword puzzles she completed, no matter how sternly she berated herself, she could no longer summon sharpness or clarity or speed when she needed to. Where once she'd had control, chaos now reigned. She was moody and unpredictable. How her husband, her co-workers tolerated her she had no idea. Her hormones were deserting her. It was either that or a brain tumor, and she could never decide which would be worse --- losing your mind or losing your sex.

The sun disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, which meant it would soon resume raining. Mira switched off the car and the world fell silent. She pushed the door open and stepped to the forest floor to inspect the damage. Squeezing through damp brush to get to the other side, moisture seeped into her chinos and the Christmas tree socks inside her chunky red clogs.

There'd been no sound. How was that possible? The smashed side mirror dangled from its moorings, useless now. From front fender to rear passenger door, long metallic grooves striped the hunter green paint right up to and no doubt behind the girth of the tree. Exhaust fumes hovered in the mist over flattened flora and the mossy rock outcroppings she'd miraculously avoided. Mira's legs quivered and she decided to get back inside the car.

Fumbling the buttons on the phone keypad, she had to hit speed-dial three times before getting the sequence right. Her husband didn't answer his cell phone or the landline at his coffee shop, Cyber Buzz.

She considered calling her father, then pictured him telling the story to all the other Elks, Moose, and Sons of Italy in Tillamook County, and so, their spouses, children, friends, and co-workers, until everyone knew, including her grandmother, aunts and uncles and countless cousins who spread and multiplied up and down the Oregon coast and inland, propagating the Serafino seed like dandelions. She winced at the grandeur with which Big Al would tell it; his recent retirement from the sheriff's department had left him with fewer stories to embellish, fewer chances to beat his chest and play silverback in their small community. There was no way she was going to be the butt of that joke every time she went to work, to the market, to the gynecologist, for Christ's sake. Life in Pacifica was lovely until you slipped up and gave people a reason to look at you differently, to wonder and gossip and speculate, especially dangerous for a schoolteacher in charge of shaping so many young minds.

Mira tried to think of someone else she could call: which uncle wouldn't be too busy? What cousin? She shook her head. She was forty-five years old. She'd taken shop in eighth grade instead of home ec. She had a Triple-A card. Surely she could handle this herself.

After buckling back in, she tried the key and the engine purred to life. Mira crossed herself (a habit she thought she'd put behind her) and eased the car into reverse. The brambles tugged momentarily at the car's under workings, then released with a snap, and this time she heard the ugly grating of metal against wood. She checked for traffic, then backed over the white painted bumps that delineated the road from, well, obviously from what had happened --- from the unexpected danger and damage that lurk just outside the safety zone. Mira had crossed it and was still shaking from the experience. It wasn't that the car would be expensive to fix, or that Parker would be angry (he wouldn't), or even that she might have hit the tree head on and been seriously hurt.

It was that she'd taken her eyes from the road in the first place.