All the Perfect Days by Michael Thompson is a masterclass in emotional resonance, threading a uniquely speculative concept through the recognizable tapestry of everyday life. Building upon the acclaim of his debut, How to Be Remembered, Thompson’s sophomore novel doesn’t merely explore time—it interrogates its limitations, demanding readers consider how much knowledge is too much when it comes to our future.
Overview: Where Magical Realism Meets Medical Realism
Set in the fictional town of Marwick, the novel follows Charlie Knight, a 38-year-old family doctor whose life is locked in place: predictable tennis matches, a run-down practice, and patients he’s known since childhood. But when Charlie suddenly begins seeing the number of days a person has left to live—literally—the narrative evolves from a nostalgic portrait of small-town inertia into a poignant meditation on fate, ethics, and regret. This magical gift, or perhaps curse, presents the central tension in the novel, urging readers to ask: If you could see someone’s time ticking away, what would you do with that knowledge?
The Strength of Character: Charlie Knight and the Ghosts of the Past
Charlie’s characterization is an elegant blend of melancholy and warmth. His yearning to escape Marwick—to reclaim the life he once deferred—is complicated by the weight of unspoken grief and unresolved love. Thompson cleverly roots Charlie’s emotional detachment in a tragic past: the loss of his mother’s mobility, his fractured relationship with his parents, and the ghost of a romance with Genevieve Longstaff, the woman who left—and now, unexpectedly returns.
Charlie’s “gift” begins with a scene both understated and cataclysmic. A dizzy spell during a routine check-up with Edna Bradley quickly becomes an ominous event when a number appears in his mind. Edna has four days left to live. The rest of the story unfolds as Charlie learns to interpret and cope with this burden.
Genevieve Longstaff: Love, Loss, and Second Chances
As much as this novel is about death, it’s equally about love—not the Hollywood variety, but the kind that simmers for years in quiet corners. Gen’s re-entry into Charlie’s life is at once tender and disruptive. Their interactions throb with tension and tenderness, adding an intimate subplot to the larger narrative.
Gen, now a lavender-oil entrepreneur and caregiver to her grandmother’s old home, is no mere love interest. She is a prism through which we view Charlie’s suppressed ambitions and his desperation for absolution. Together, they are more than just rekindled lovers—they’re reflections of what could have been and what might still be, given the chance.
The Ethical Quandaries of Knowing Too Much
At its core, All the Perfect Days is not just a character study or a love story. It’s a philosophical exploration of moral ambiguity. Charlie’s ability to know when someone will die positions him as a kind of reluctant deity—one without omnipotence, but burdened with omniscience.
This becomes especially evident when Charlie starts documenting the numbers in a secret notebook. He quickly realizes the weight of this knowledge. Do you warn someone with only one day to live? Do you help people complete their bucket lists? Or do you stay silent and protect them from the truth?
The emotional climax of the novel hinges on Charlie’s decision to tell Abigail Wilson—a young woman with a developmental disability—that she should spend the day with her parents and do something she’s always wanted to do. Her number? One.
Her death by drowning the next morning is quietly devastating, and Thompson handles it with breathtaking grace. Charlie’s inability to change fate, despite his efforts, shatters him—and the reader. But it also becomes the moment that truly defines the novel’s philosophy: we cannot always prevent the inevitable, but we can shape the quality of the days that precede it.
A Cast of Carefully Observed Characters
Beyond Charlie and Gen, Thompson populates Marwick with a rich supporting cast:
Simon Lopez, the hypochondriac patient with a countdown in the tens of thousands, offers comic relief but also subtle commentary on our obsession with mortality.
Max Clayton, the callous father of a sweet boy named Jamie, serves as a case study in neglect, prompting Charlie to step in not just as a doctor, but as a protector.
Edna Bradley, Charlie’s first “number,” and a symbol of time’s fragility, embodies the novel’s initial innocence—and its early heartbreak.
Each subplot—whether it’s Charlie confronting his own father’s countdown or encouraging an aging farmer to adopt kittens—builds on the novel’s central premise while maintaining emotional resonance.
Writing Style: Warm, Witty, and Wise
Michael Thompson writes with a rare blend of lyricism and precision. His sentences flow effortlessly, laced with dry humor and unflinching honesty. Descriptions of Charlie’s encounters are often grounded in everyday mundanity—spilled jelly beans, a dog’s bark, the smell of citrus in a neighbor’s house—but layered with deeper symbolism.
This is a novel that’s deeply readable. Thompson doesn’t bog down the narrative with exposition or pseudo-science. Instead, he trusts the reader to sit with ambiguity. His strength lies in showing, not telling, and in revealing emotional truths through action and silence.
Thematic Brilliance: A Tapestry of Time, Loss, and Redemption
The title All the Perfect Days is not ironic. It’s a reminder. Thompson posits that perfection isn’t about longevity or spectacle—it’s about meaning. Every interaction becomes sacred once we realize how finite they truly are.
The novel invites readers to:
Reflect on the everyday beauty of life
Appreciate loved ones before it’s too late
Recognize that time is both an enemy and a gift
Charlie’s journey is not one of control—it’s of surrender. And in surrendering to the unknown, he finds his own rebirth.
Criticisms: Where the Novel Falters
While All the Perfect Days is a triumph of narrative empathy, it isn’t without flaws. A few minor critiques:
The pacing occasionally lags in the middle third, particularly during extended scenes of Charlie’s internal monologue.
Some supporting characters—like MaryAnn Steiner and Toby—lean slightly toward caricature.
The magical element is never fully explained. While this works thematically, some readers may crave more clarity or a backstory to Charlie’s gift.
These shortcomings are minor and do little to detract from the novel’s emotional and narrative strengths.
Comparative Literature: For Fans Of…
Readers who enjoyed Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library or Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven will find All the Perfect Days similarly affecting. It also echoes the tone and introspective rhythm of Fredrik Backman’s A Man Called Ove, blending heartache with healing.
Like these titles, Thompson’s work doesn’t rely on plot twists or genre conventions. Instead, it quietly builds momentum through emotional realism, grounded characters, and a central conceit that’s both familiar and extraordinary.
Final Verdict
Michael Thompson has achieved something rare: a novel that’s both magical and mundane, emotionally expansive yet intimate. All the Perfect Days is a meditation on the miracle of life and the terror of loss. It compels readers to live more intentionally, to forgive more freely, and to make peace with the ticking clock.
It is not a thriller. It’s not even a traditional romance. But it is human—beautifully, achingly human. And sometimes, that’s all a book needs to be.
Recommended for: Readers of introspective literary fiction, fans of magical realism with a contemporary lens, and anyone contemplating the weight of time.