The End of the Alphabet

Meet Ambrose Zephyr: thought of by friends as better than some; by his wife, Zipper, as in need of no adjustment. On or about his fiftieth birthday, Ambrose is bluntly told by his doctor that he has one month to live. And so he and Zipper embark on a whirlwind expedition to the places he has most loved or longed to see, A through Z, Amsterdam to Zanzibar. Reeling from one destination to the next, cushioned by the gentle humour and affection of his wife, Ambrose considers age-old questions about the power of art, the burden of history, and the peculiarities of self. All the while Zipper struggles to remain afloat, forced to imagine the unimaginable, a life without Ambrose. After Istanbul, the course of their journey takes an unplanned turn when Ambrose seeks out the destination most fittingly called home.

Stylish, witty, joyous and moving, The End of the Alphabet is a magical, deeply romantic story about an everyday life defined by an extraordinary love.

“Ambrose Zephyr was married to Zappora Ashkenazi, a woman as comfortable in her own skin as anyone else. She had kept her name for the apparent reasons, would have preferred to have been born a Frenchwoman, suffered fools with grace and a smile, loathed insects.

She had decorated the Victorian terrace in tastefully Swedish DIY, updating as budget and wear dictated. She was resigned to the likelihood that a pied-à-terre in the sixth arrondissement might not be in her future. She was content with that.

She wore the best labels she could afford and knew the mysteries that moved a £500 ensemble to the £50 rack. Red and black and white were her ‘colours.’ Accessorizing she considered well worth the effort and her earrings were almost always perfect with that outfit. She owned one pair of stiletto shoes that hurt just to look at. But Ambrose liked them. Which was enough.”
—From The End of the Alphabet