Dick, a writer (sort of) and Daisy, his lovely wife, have a two-apartment house, two kids (one of each), and three sets of friends. Dick hasnt written anything for six yearsbefore marriage. Mostly they are referenced as merely the man and the wife. There is quite a bit of dialog between them sans noting who is doing the talking, but eventually you get the hang of it, like reading Hemingway. He discover the mans personality largely through narrative (after all, he is telling the story), while the wifes personality is derived solely through the dialog. Every story begins somewhere, as does this one. But, this does not have a definitive ending; it seems poised to continue, but doesnt. Anyway, this is vintage Saroyan, and if you are a devotee, it is a must-read.