In Wally Lamb’s New NovelThe River is Waiting, an Inmate Searches for Hope (Exclusive)

Mar. 15, 2025

Wally Lamb and the cover of ‘The River is Waiting’.Photo:Shana Sureck, S&S/Marysue Rucci Books

Shana Sureck, S&S/Marysue Rucci Books

S&S/Marysue Rucci Books

Lamb has a personal connection to the book’s subject matter. The author established a creative writing program at the York Correctional Institution, a women’s correctional facility in Connecticut where he has volunteered for 20 years. Lamb is also the editor of the essay volumesCouldn’t Keep It MyselfandI’ll Fly Away, which is composed of writing from his students.

Read on for an exclusive excerpt fromThe River is Waiting.

Never miss a story — sign up forPEOPLE’s free daily newsletterto stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer​​, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories.It’s six a.m. and I’m the first one up. Spotify’s playing that Chainsmokers song I like.If we go down, then we go down together… I take an Ativan and chase my morning coffee with a couple of splashes of 100-proof Captain Morgan. I return the bottle to its hiding place inside the 20-quart lobster pot we never use, put the lid on, and put it back in the cabinet above the fridge that Emily can’t reach without the step stool. Then I fill the twins' sippy cups and start making French toast for breakfast.If we go down, then we go down together.I cut the music so I can listen for the kids, but that song’s probably going to play in my head all morning.

Emily’s up now and in the bathroom, getting ready for work. When the shower stops, I hear the twins babbling to each other in the nursery we converted from my studio almost two years ago. My easel, canvases and paints had been exiled to the space behind the basement stairs. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice. I made my living as a commercial artist and had been struggling after hours and on weekends to make “serious” art, but after the babies were born, the last thing I felt like doing was staring at a blank canvas and waiting for some abstraction to move from my brain down my arm to my brush to see what came out.

Maisie was the alpha twin; Niko, who would learn to creep, walk and say words after his sister did, was the beta. In the developmental race, Niko always came in second, but, as their personalities began to emerge, his sister became our more serious, more driven twin and he was our mischievous little laughing boy. I loved them more deeply every day for who each was becoming. How could some artistic indulgence of mine have competed with what our lovemaking had created? It wasn’t even close.

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Wally Lamb.Shana Sureck

Shana Sureck

By the time Emily comes into the kitchen, I’ve already put her coffee and a stack of French toast on the table, the older pieces on the bottom and the fresh slices I’d made to replace the burnt ones on top. “Mama!” Niko shouts. Emily kisses the top of his head. “How’s my favorite boy today?” she asks. Then, turning to his sister, she kisses her head, too, and says, ‘‘And how’s my favorite girl?" She loves both of our kids, of course, but she favors Niko, whose emerging personality is like mine. Maisie is clearly her mother’s daughter. She’s less silly, more self-sufficient. Niko and I are the needy ones.

source: people.com