Read an Excerpt from Wally Lamb’s Captivating New Novel, ‘The River Is Waiting’ (EXCLUSIVE)
Filled with his signature poignant prose, Lamb’s latest is a tale of heartbreak and forgiveness
Known for his emotionally propulsive—and often heart-wrenching—stories, Wally Lamb has sold millions of books, including New York Times bestsellers She’s Come Undone and I Know This Much is True, which was adapted into an HBO limited drama series starring Mark Ruffalo and Juliette Lewis. His newest novel, The River Is Waiting, out today, follows Corby, an imprisoned father who contemplates the possibility of forgiveness in the wake of unfathomable tragedy.
Here, an excerpt of Lamb’s upcoming book just for Woman’s World readers!
Exclusive excerpt of ‘The River is Waiting’
After 10 minutes go by—I’ve been watching the wall clock—Mrs. Millman invites everyone to take their seats for the unveiling. She begins by thanking the administrators for green-lighting the mural project and today’s celebration. Looks like they’re eating it up, too, especially when they get a round of polite applause. Mrs. M’s not a kiss-ass; she’s playing politics because she wants more money for her library. It’s fun to watch the way she operates. She invites the warden to speak.
I tune out most of Rickerby’s blah-blah-blah but catch the end of her spiel: “My team and I always do our best to accentuate the positive at this institution.” Really? I hadn’t noticed.
Rickerby and Zabrowski are the designated unveilers. As they walk toward the mural, I feel my stomach muscles clench. Sit on my hands so that no one will see how badly they’re shaking. To make things worse, the warden starts counting backward from 10. I’m glad she’s enjoying herself in the midst of my panic. What if everyone hates it? What if all the political protests I’ve embedded in the work—anti–white supremacy, antiracism, antiprison—are blatantly obvious? Embarrassing the powers that be around here could cost me big-time. Rickerby reaches the end of her countdown and, from opposite ends, she and Zabrowski yank down the tarps, exposing the mural. And me.
I hear a couple of “wows,” a “fantastic.” A few people applaud at first, then more, then many more. All I can see are the flaws: Some of the trees are hastily rendered; the sky’s too blue. Most of all, I wish to hell that I’d kept Emily and the kids out of the mural; I shouldn’t have tampered with their privacy like that. Our story is too personal for public art. What was I thinking?
When Javier stands, clapping loudly, most of the others follow suit. I look down at the floor until Mrs. Millman, seated next to me, leans in and says, “Enjoy your moment, Corby. Look at your audience.” Facing them, I put my hand over my heart, bow my head and wait for the applause to stop. When it does, I say, “Not sure I deserve all this, but thank you.”
Mrs. Millman retakes the floor. She tells the audience that she’d invited me to share some remarks about my work, but that, being a bit shy, I asked whether she would speak on my behalf. (Truthfully, it was more like begging her than asking.) “Howie?” she says. “You want to do the honors?” From behind the circulation desk, her husband props up a poster-sized enlargement of Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. Mrs. M explains that Bruegel the Elder’s sixteenth-century masterpiece was the inspiration for my mural. She says how exciting it was for her to witness the day-by-day coming together of my vision, first sketched out in detail, then painted. “I’m telling you, folks, I couldn’t wait to come to work so I could see what was going to happen next!” Polite laughter, people looking between the mural and me. I look away.
Mrs. M picks up some index cards, looks over her notes and begins her prepared remarks. I’m moved that she’s spent so much time and effort on this. She says she believes that painters and writers are magicians of a sort—that they invite us to lose ourselves in their work and, in doing so, find ourselves. “As you take in Corby Ledbetter’s mural, you most likely see and feel something different from what the person standing next to you sees and feels; we bring our own lives, our personal histories and our values to art and literature. Yet somehow, simultaneously, art and literature connect us to one another. That’s the magic! So I feel it is entirely fitting that this mural now resides in a library filled with books and ideas—a prison library where incarcerated men arrive feeling remorseful or resentful or defiant, perhaps wondering how their lives went so far off track from what they imagined. And if they are brave enough to face themselves without looking away, then this is a place where they can gain the valuable insights that will help send them on a better path.” She ends with a quote from Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall: something about how an inmate who comes to prison does not have to lose his humanity or end his quest for self-realization and growth.
“And now, Corby, I’d like to say something to you personally,” she says. “Long after you leave Yates and go on your way, your evocative work will remain here, inviting the incarcerated men who enter this library to linger over your mural’s mysteries and meaning and puzzle through whatever it says to them. Thank you for your gift. We are grateful.” More applause. More blushing from me. I scan the room, looking for Emily, but she’s not here.
Excerpted from The River is Waiting: A Novel by Wally Lamb. Copyright © 2025 by Wally Lamb. Reprinted by permission of Marysue Rucci Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC.
Want to read the whole story? Pick up your copy of The River Is Waiting now wherever books are sold.
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