![]() ![]() The party that starts as a kid’s celebration ends with an illicit kiss that will have repercussions still being felt 50 years later. In Ann Patchett’s bravura rendering, the two are dangerously intoxicating, triggering a kind of giddy, selfish blindness. Sunshine and citrus: In literary California, these have long been potent symbols of the abundant promise of life in the west. Suddenly, the orange trees that grow around the neighborhood are being stripped for juice, drunk adults are dancing in the midday sun and even the Catholic priest is comparing the bounty to the miracle of fishes and loaves. “Commonwealth” begins with a kind of fever dream: A christening party in 1964 Los Angeles that takes a left turn when a giant bottle of gin is introduced. ![]()
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