Ann S. Epstein Writer

My Goodreads and Amazon review of French Braid by Anne Tyler (Rated 4) – Form Follows Function. French Braid, the title of Anne Tyler’s latest novel, refers to the structure of the book as well as the nature of families. A French braid is constructed by plaiting a handful of tresses and working your way along the scalp, adding others to create one multi-level integrated structure. The more you add, the sturdier the braid, with thicker hairs holding thinner ones in place. Such is the nature of four generations of the Garrett family, their forebears, and those who will follow. They don’t always agree with, understand, or even like, one another, but they are nonetheless interwoven. This theme is perhaps best illustrated in the recurring scenes of children bringing their “intended” spouses home to meet their parents and siblings. Approval is not required but the ritual must be observed. It is in capturing the small details of family life — both intimacies and irritations — that Tyler excels. The Garretts are essentially well meaning, if occasionally clueless, people. In other words, they’re your average American family. Readers will warm to them, some individuals more than others, and not always the ones you initially expect to take a shine to. My only criticism is that it is sometimes hard to keep the cousins straight; some are mere wisps and their nature, like fly-away hairs, don’t add to the braid. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I wish Tyler had given these secondary characters more substance or snipped them out altogether. Wisps aside, French Braid is a small but satisfying novel with deep and enduring truths about the strands that inevitably draw families together.

Plaited people in plaited chapters

Why writers read: “If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.” – Lord Byron

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Laughing in Her Sleep by Alycia and Jon Vreeland (Rated 5) – Laughing in Heaven. There are two ways to read Jon Vreeland’s poems in Laughing in Her Sleep: One at a time or via total immersion. Either way, pause over the penetrating illustrations by Alycia Vreeland. Unlike her colorful paintings, her line drawings are as dark and dense as Jon’s poems. Some are as whimsical as his words. Jon is obsessed with Death and Drugs (D & D). Some poems surrender to the depths; others are aspirational. Jon reaches for something better or (literally) higher. His judgements are harsh (especially toward himself) but his sympathies are generous. He can also be very funny! Jon sees, hears, and smells beauty as well as ugliness. Wherever he aims his senses, Jon doesn’t shy away from life’s crazy mixture. As a prose fiction writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I revere Jon’s storytelling talents. Each poem has a setting, salient details, and characters whose interactions are “small” but never insignificant. Jon imbues them with meaning, be they comforting or confrontational. His self-written obituary is as refreshingly arrogant as Jon himself, according him the glory he wasn’t granted in life, except by those who knew and loved him. And for whom, if not them, is the obit written? I won’t comment on the life review that ends the book (since I compiled it) except to say I was honored to be asked and entrusted with the precious memories his family and friends shared. Jon’s death is both a personal and a literary loss. We are fortunate his words live on. I trust he and Hemingway are laughing together in writers’ heaven.

Wrenching words, penetrating pictures

Why writers read: “Read to make yourself smarter! Less judgmental. More apt to understand your friends’ insane behavior, or better yet, your own.” – John Waters

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Baby Darlin’: A Graphic Memoir by Alycia Vreeland (Rated 5) – Raw and Righteous. Baby Darlin’ (BD) grows up in a house full of shit. Literally and figuratively. BD wants to love, to be loved, but is betrayed time and again by those she trusts. Her mother is sick in the head. Papa is kind and funny, but he isn’t around. Grandpa is interesting. He is a painter and BD wants to be a painter too. But Grandpa is also crazy. Grandma is a devout Catholic who shames BD. Only BD’s older cousin, Willy, loves her. She will do whatever he tells her, especially drink. It tastes awful, so she washes it down with root beer. And alcohol makes BD feel great, even if it also makes her throw up. BD also has a secret friend, Ayne de Blu, who “disappears” BD’s body when Pig, who is even grosser than his name, assaults her. Ayne tells BD everything will be OK. But everything is not OK. BD’s drinking becomes uncontrollable. The worst: She loses her son. Things get better when BD meets Jon, the love of her life. He’s a drug addict trying to kick his habit; she’s an alcoholic trying to stay sober. BD suffers unbearable losses: her cousin, her son, her mother, and then Jon. How will she survive? Alone? But she is not alone. BD discovers a Higher Power. But, to this reviewer, the power also resides within BD herself, in the woman named Alycia Vreeland. Telling her saga, Vreeland outs the truth of an abused child in graphic language and painful pictures. As writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Vreeland’s courage writing this unrelentingly honest memoir. BD, her alter-ego, does not mince words. She makes readers cringe. We should. She makes us cry. We should. BD provokes outrage. Bravo for her. Listen to her voice; see her in these bold images. Read Baby Darlin’ with a strong stomach and a big heart. Surrender to the power of this amazing book.

A graphic memoir of child abuse

Why writers read: “Books are people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.” – E. B. White

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Fire Exit by Morgan Talty (Rated 5) – Identity Crises. Fire Exit by Morgan Talty argues that we are all entitled to know our past, even if the truth is disorienting. Learning the whole story may fill in missing parts or provoke unasked questions. In Fire Exit, the issue is especially fraught because it deals with identity, namely the right to claim Native American identity if, lurking unbeknownst to a child raised as a full Indian, is a father’s non-native identity. Charles, the protagonist, was raised on the Penobscot reservation by his non-native mother and Indian stepfather with full knowledge of his story. He feels his daughter, conceived with his high school Penobscot girlfriend and now fully grown, is entitled to hers. The girl’s mother and indigenous husband, who raised the girl as his own, object. Entangled in Charles’s urge to tell his daughter her blood story is that his own mother’s memory is growing porous with Alzheimer’s. Moreover, he’s plagued by guilt that preoccupation with the girls’ birth kept him from preventing his stepfather’s death decades earlier. Fire Exit is replete with grief, remorse, mental illness, alcoholism, and death. Yet, the novel is not wholly bleak and morbid. On the contrary, Talty’s ineradicable faith in filial devotion and commitment to personal history is ultimately uplifting. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire his refusal to shy away from difficult subjects with debatable answers. Fire Exit will make readers question their own stories. Warning: The choice not to know the truth comes at a price.

The benefits and costs of unknown identity

Why writers read: “To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.” – W. Somerset Maugham