January 2020 – Ann S. Epstein Writer

What I’m Reading: Olive, Again

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Olive, Again (Rating 5) – Godfrey. Thank God Olive Kittridge is Back. In Olive, Again, Elizabeth Strout returns us to the coastal town of Crosby, Maine. All I can say is, “Godfrey. Thank God Olive Kittridge is back.” In stories that feature Olive, or bring her on for a cameo, Strout introduces us to residents whose lives are filled with sadness, even tragedy, but who evince a New England determination not to complain and to carry on. Olive delights us with her own small epiphanies, often reached reluctantly but embraced when she accepts that they are inescapable. One of Strout’s most satisfying creations is Jack Kennison, Olive’s late-in-life second husband, who is her match in irascibility and likability. Best about Jack is how much he likes Olive. Olive herself is one hot, leaky mess of contradictions: tactless and kind; humorless and funny; oblivious and self-aware; judgmental and open-minded; exasperating and endearing. I was reluctant to read the last story because I didn’t want the book to end. As a writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I know that my characters never leave me. I hope that is true for writer Elizabeth Strout, because as a reader, all I can say is “Godfrey. Please don’t ever die Olive. I can’t bear the thought of a world without your bulk.”

The prickly but endearing Olive Kittridge is one hot, leaky mess of contradictions

Why writers read: “It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.” – Oscar Wilde

Learn History Through Fiction: Nazi “Test Killing” of Disabled People

Five years before the liberation of Auschwitz in January 1945, the Nazis conducted a “test killing” of 9,000 disabled people to make sure the carbon monoxide gas method they’d developed was “suitable” for mass extermination. Citing the theories of eugenics, the Third Reich claimed the murdered children and adults were “animals, not humans.” The test was declared a success, and followed by the killing of 70,000 additional disabled people at that site, another 230,000 elsewhere, and 6 million Jews and other victims in concentration camps. The site of the test killing, Aktion T4, in Brandenburg, Germany, contains the remains of an old brick barn with only a small memorial plaque. By design, there were no survivors left to testify about the Nazi “experiment.” Read about a disabled person who escaped the Nazi social hygiene policies in A Brain. A Heart. The Nerve. (see NOVELS).

Aktion T4, in Brandenberg, Germany, site of the mass “test killing” of disabled people by carbon monoxide gas

A Brain. A Heart. The Nerve. by Ann S. Epstein (Alternative Book Press, Editors’ Choice Selection of Historical Novel Review)

Cultural Appropriation Backlash

If writers succumbed to charges of cultural appropriation, literature would be devoid of imagination and empathy. Says Hari Kunzru in The Guardian (10/01/16), “Clearly, if writers were barred from creating characters with attributes that we do not ‘own’ (gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and so on), fiction would be impossible. Stories would be peopled by clones of the author.” For more thoughts on writing see REFLECTIONS.

Why writers write: “To survive, you must tell stories.” – Umberto Eco

Learn History Through Fiction: 1910 Chicago Garment Workers Strike

A year before the tragic 1911 Triangle Waist Company Fire in New York City, women staged the Chicago Garment Workers Strike against Hart, Schaffner, and Marx, which employed several thousand workers in dozens of clothing factories — sweatshops — around the city. Women unified across racial and ethnic boundaries to protest low wages and poor working conditions. The strike, which lasted from September 1910 to January 1911, ended when labor and management agreed on a deal to raise wages and meet health and safety standards. Read more Chicago and labor history in Tazia and Gemma (see NOVELS).

The Chicago Garment Workers Strike ended, successfully, just two months before the tragic Triangle Waist Company Fire in New York City

Tazia and Gemma (Vine Leaves Press) by Ann S. Epstein

The Manhattanville Review to Publish “Over the Road Song”

I’m happy to announce that my short story “Over the Road Song” will be published by The Manhattanville Review in their January 2020 issue. Here is the log line: In “Over the Road Song,” women truckers (CB handles mothertrucker2, Grannygears, and tankertopper) from three generations have a testy debate about the pros and cons of life on the road. The story will be online at the end of the month on The Manhattanville Review website. Read more in SHORT STORIES.

Of the 3.5 million truck drivers in the U.S., only 6.6% are women

Why writers write: “To speak up, insofar as we can, for those who cannot do so.” – Albert Camus

Learn History Through Fiction: Munchkins Paid Less than Toto the Dog

The actors who played Munchkins in the 1939 Hollywood classic The Wizard of Oz were paid only $50-100 a week, less than Toto the dog whose salary was $125. Some resorted to boosting their earnings by pimping and prostitution, even begging. They reportedly propositioned crew members, leading to wild, though unsubstantiated, tales of drunken orgies. Read more about the Munchkins and the making of the movie in A Brain. A Heart. The Nerve. (see NOVELS).

What I’m Reading: On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

My Amazon and Goodreads review of On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (Rating 5) – The Balm of Words. On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by award-winning poet and debut novelist Ocean Vuong is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age and coming out story. The narrator, Little Dog, writes of being a Vietnamese immigrant and a gay man, growing up alien and poor in Hartford, Connecticut. The novel takes the form of a letter to his illiterate mother, traumatized by a childhood napalm attack and often abusive. The odds of her reading, let alone understanding, the letter are slim so Little Dog is writing to himself as much as to her, trying to make sense of the forces that shaped him: his mother and grandmother, his quasi-grandfather, and the older redneck boy who was his first love. The imagery is transporting, invoking not only the five senses, but also hallucinatory states. As a fiction writer, I know how difficult it is to describe the indescribable. (See my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page.) I attribute Vuong’s metaphorical acuity to his gifts as a poet. Some descriptions are overwritten and desensitizing, but then a shattering scene reawakens readers’ nerves. Little Dog, like Vuong, escapes in books and writing. When his mother and grandmother are mocked for their lack of language, he vows never to be without words himself. The novel tells that tale, and is a testament to the phenomenal fruits of his pledge. Words are Little Dog’s balm. Vuong’s family story is horrific and while far removed from the lives of most readers, it remains a common truth for refugees today. Vuong triumphed, but the rare beauty of his writing reminds us that most trauma survivors will not.