Author: annsepstein@att.net

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Old Babes in the Wood: Stories by Margaret Atwood (Rating 5) – She (We) Ain’t Dead Yet. Margaret Atwood’s story collection Old Babes in the Wood is rich with the insights this author has bestowed on readers for decades. My favorites comprise the sections that bracket the book, in which the recently widowed Nell recalls her long marriage to Tig. The writing is poignant. Yet, in characteristic Atwood fashion, grief’s bellyaches are tempered with memory’s belly laughs: oddball friends, quirky routines, off-kilter misunderstandings. The pair are as predictable as any old married couple, yet they surprise us and one another with their secrets. Even those discovered posthumously. Tig is dead, (or as Nell says, unable to complete the thought, “Now that Tig.”), yet he is still very much present. And, Atwood reminds us, so is that old babe, Nell. She muses on widowhood: how to remain relevant, not relegated to the dust bin; to see meandering minds as sane reflections of a nonlinear world, not signs of a brain gone bonkers. The Handmaid’s Tale aside, I prefer Atwood’s reality stories to her speculative fiction, but for readers who gravitate to the latter, there is plenty in the book’s middle section to satisfy them, notably an amusing but cautionary tale of a communication impasse with the aliens who rescue us after we’ve destroyed our own planet. And for those who relish the wit with which Atwood punctures (especially male) authority, she offers a gut-busting pseudo-feminist treatise on witches and other flying female villains. Atwood’s stories are often deceptively simple but they reverberate with deeper meaning. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I know the effort expended to make hard-earned prose appear easy on the page. Atwood works hard, and while we play with her words, we willing work hard to wrest the most out of them. Old Babes in the Wood immerses readers in the thoughts, feelings, and sensations of aging. The woods are perilous, the past’s undergrowth lurks to trip us up. Yet a lush canopy ahead lures us forward. Atwood prods us on. Like the author, we ain’t dead yet!

Atwood at her poignant and witty best

Why writers read: “The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor.” – Stephen King

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