Author: annsepstein@att.net

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Bliss Road by Martha Engber (Rating 5) – Shedding the Sins of Our Fathers. My curiosity when I read Martha Engber’s Bliss Road: A Memoir About Living a Lie and Coming to Terms with the Truth was threefold. First, having inferred autobiographical elements in Engber’s fiction, I sought to confirm my hunches in her memoir. Second, as a developmental psychologist who got my Ph.D. when the study of autism was still in its infancy (Bruno Bettelheim was then blaming the condition on “refrigerator moms” and it would be decades before the role of heredity was acknowledged), I wondered how Engber would integrate her personal experience with emerging knowledge in the field. Third, recognizing in hindsight that my own late father would today be identified as “on the spectrum,” I sought to further my understanding of its impact on me. Engber satisfied my curiosity on all three issues. First, her father’s ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) clearly influenced Engber’s writing. Where he was socially clueless, she is an astute observer and recorder of emotions. Her fiction centers on human interactions, often raw and open. She brings that same unrelenting honesty to her memoir. The probing poems that introduce each section ask the questions — What? Why? — she sensed but couldn’t articulate as a child. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I can spot Engber’s authenticity on every page. Second, Engber seamlessly integrates her own experiences with the history of autism research and the latest knowledge in the field. To her surprise, and chagrin, she discovered there was no research on the effect that ASD parents, especially undiagnosed ones, have on the development of their children. Although it is not inevitable, a troubled parent can shape a troubled child. The longer the potential damage goes undetected, the harder it is to treat. Engber offers practical suggestions to prevent or limit the inter-generational damage, such as offering parenting classes to those diagnosed with ASD where they can the learn skills to connect with their children. Third, seeing my own experiences reflected in Engber’s narrative was validating. I am sure that many readers will have that same jolt of recognition. Engber details her path to recovery and literally delivers a pep talk to readers to embark on their own journey. She admits the road is arduous but promises that it leads to a fuller life. From the book’s blissful conclusion, we have to acknowledge she’s right.

An honest confrontation with familial autism

Why writers read: “To find words for what we already know.” – Alberto Manguel

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Kantika by Elizabeth Graver (Rating 4) – A Serenade to Sephardic Immigrants. The story of Rebecca in Kantika (“sing” in Ladino) by Elizabeth Graver, is an usual take on the American Jewish experience, that of a Sephardic Jew from Turkey (via Spain) rather than an Ashkenazi Jew from Eastern Europe. The book honors the author’s own immigrant ancestors. In the Torah (Old Testament), Rebecca is a beautiful young woman who has the courage to leave her homeland and venture into unknown territory to marry the equally unknown, but troubled, Isaac. She becomes the “decider,” the leaders of her generation, guaranteeing her people’s future. So too does this early twentieth century Rebecca, a young widow with two boys, David and Alberto, cross an ocean to marry Sam, a widower with a daughter, Luna, whose disabilities — the result of cerebral palsy — are more severe than Rebecca has been led to believe. Arriving in a chaotic household, and determined to succeed, Rebecca takes charge. Her painstaking (painful) yet undeterred efforts to teach her severely physically handicapped, but mentally sharp, stepdaughter Luna are moving. Strong-willed but well matched combatants, both emerge victorious. Luna achieves independence and personhood while Rebecca achieves grudging respect and acceptance as her mother. The early part of the book is occasionally bogged down by the author’s exposition on Sephardic Jewish culture. Later in the book, as Graver introduces other narrative voices and points of view, important information is missing. For example, after much is made of how and when her two boys can join her, the narrative advances three years without readers learning how they got to America and what their reunion with their mother was like. As a writer of historical fiction myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I know the importance of including that information selectively and organically in the narrative. At times, Graver includes either too much or too little. The passages from Luna’s point of view are absorbing, those from David less so. I missed hearing Rebecca’s voice which, when it finally returns, sounds diminished. Graver’s choice to pass the narrative to the next generation mirrors the immigrant experience, but the book loses its force. Those reservations aside, Kantika is a rich and engaging story of multiple and often conflicting identities. The biblical Rebecca and Kantika’s Rebecca each arrive in a new land and earn the mantle of matriarch. Graver persuades us that we are indebted to their creative vision and their no-nonsense strength.

An homage to Graver’s immigrant ancestors

Why writers read: “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” – Malorie Blackman