Tag: See what Ann S. Epstein Writer is reading

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Ashes, Ashes by Fred Soukup (Rated 5) – Above the Smoldering Remains. It’s difficult for a writer to make readers care about characters whose lives are far from enviable — people who, while trying to befriend others, become their own worst enemies. Yet that is the challenge Fred Soukup sets for himself in Ashes, Ashes, and brilliantly achieves. As if surmounting that hurdle wasn’t high enough, he’s wraps his portrayal in a Rashomon-like murder mystery. The story is told from multiple points of view, each with a distinctive voice. It damns the foster care system and the callous society that looks the other way as its victims land on the trash heap. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Soukup’s ability to elicit compassion for unlikable characters who seek salvation but will settle for a salvage operation. This is a bleak book and yet, because the protagonists don’t give up on themselves, readers can’t give up hoping for them. Soukup’s creations cling to life, determined to realize dreams and find redemption. They may differ from us on the surface, but underneath their scars, these throwaways embody a deep and abiding humanity. Soukup reveals the dark underbelly of the nursery rhyme we all learned as children, most of us unaware that it refers to a deadly plague. We’re not innocent children, but Ashes, Ashes challenges readers to rise above the smoldering remains.

Elicits compassion for unlikeable characters

Why writers read: “We ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? – Franz Kafka

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Absolution by Alice McDermott (Rating 5) – Don’t Look Away. Absolution by Alice McDermott turns a female lens on America’s early intervention in Vietnam. The novel is told from dual retrospectives: Patricia, now an elderly widow, and Rainey, now a middle-aged daughter, both members of military-industrial families posted to Saigon in 1963. A third woman — Charlene — Patricia’s dynamic friend and Rainey’s domineering mother, draws them together. While the book reflects on American hubris, it looks more critically at the role of women on the cusp of the women’s liberation movement. Patricia, a shy newlywed, is defined by others — her husband, her friend, the Church — to the point of accepting the nicknames they assign her. Rainey is the obedient daughter, silently emulating her mother’s stoicism. Charlene’s friend and daughter are equally enamored of, and alarmed by, this whirlwind of a woman, whose “white savior” guilt drives her to help the poor and ailing Vietnamese. Like America itself, her altruism is feeble and often misguided, but she’s adamant that looking away is worse. As a fellow writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire McDermott’s fluid writing, deft characterizations, and immersive storytelling. The novel, like the war, presents no victors, only a quagmire that demands confession and defies absolution. Don’t look away from this superb book.

The Vietnam war seen through the eyes of women

Why writers read: “No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance.” – Confucius

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Two for the Money by Steve Zettler (Rated 5) – Switcheroos Galore. Steve Zettler’s Two For the Money is a highly entertaining catch-the-bad-guys romp that induces whiplash as readers try to figure out just who the bad guys are. Multiple forces — American secret service and ex-military personnel, rogue CIA agents, South American gun runners and drug dealers — battle and/or collude as they attempt to recover millions lost during the 1989 U.S. invasion of Panama. The narrative is full of colorful characters; I was especially partial to a flashy Philly gangster and all the kick-ass women. Readers don’t know who to trust, except for the sure-handed author who delivers quick-witted dialogue and a fast-paced plot with more twists and turns than a dizzying amusement park ride. The ease with which Zettler skips from one plot complication to another belies his hard work diving into the minds of scoundrels, and unearthing the nefarious measures that the straight-arrow government employees devise to exert their will at home and abroad. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Zettler’s ability to deftly juggle and seamlessly integrate all these elements in this marvelously convoluted tale. Double your bet you’ll be entertained reading Two for the Money.

A cool romp in steamy Panama in search of lost millions

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 Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson (Rated 2) – Unconvinced. Having attended weekly Torah study at my temple for 34 years, I was eager to read the Christian interpretation offered by Marilynne Robinson in Reading Genesis. Seeking enlightenment, I was confounded by frustration. The Jewish tradition is to ask questions and entertain multiple, even conflicting, answers. From her Calvinist perspective, Robinson makes the unwavering case that God can do no wrong. Evil exists, but it is part of God’s plan for Creation, and thus inherently “good,” even when humans go awry. Thus, the story of Cain and Abel is not about murderous jealousy but about the mercy and kindness of God, who allows Cain to survive and procreate under His protection. Robinson’s God is irrefutably loving, patient, and tolerant whereas the God I’ve been inspired to create is flawed and learns on the job, just like humans. Instead of “turning, turning” the Genesis scroll to reveal its many lessons, Robinson’s agenda is single-minded. She simply ignores any text that contradicts her view. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page, I lost patience with her rigidity and bias. I was not convinced by her version of an all-good, straight-marching God when scripture presents an imperfect, stumbling one. The one insight I did find true was that law, not patriarchy or monarchy, is the structure that underlies the creation of the Israelites as a people. Leaders come and go, but laws remain and are passed on. For me, that is the reason we continue to study Genesis and the rest of Torah.

A simplistic take on a complex narrative

Why writers read: “A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.” – Italo Calvino

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman (Rating 5) – Guilty Expressions. I couldn’t help but feel guilty each time my face expressed the emotions that overcame me as I read Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman. Redman was born with a rare condition of facial paralysis called Moebius Syndrome. The disability affects her mouth, rendering it immobile, and eyelids, which she cannot fully close. So, whenever I smiled in response to her tender childhood memories, curled my lips in anger at those who teased her, or crinkled my eyes in gratitude at her mother’s unwavering support, I was acutely self-conscious that my face could show emotions that Redman’s disability makes impossible. She’s denied a form of communication we take for granted. Redman grew up not only hiding her feelings from others, but also from herself. Saving Face is a moving narrative of her struggle to find self-acceptance. More than that, it is her journey to find self-affirmation for her inner and outer beauty. Redman’s recollections brought to mind two classics of children’s literature. Her fascination at age ten with folding origami swans evoked memories of Hans Christian Anderson’s story “The Ugly Duckling,” a misfit waterfowl who grows up to be a beautiful swan. And I thought of E. B. White’s book, The Trumpet of the Swan, the story of a trumpeter swan born without a voice who overcomes his disability by learning to play a trumpet. Likewise, Redman finds creative ways to express herself, as a ballet dancer whose body moves with grace, and as a writer who communicates the feelings her mouth cannot. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I share with Redman the inner grin that comes when the “right” words magically appear on the page. By the end of the book, my guilt at taking my facial muscles for granted was replaced by admiration for Redman, who has opened herself to others and above all, to the possibilities within herself.

A courageous journey navigating disability

Why writers read: “Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?” – Annie Dillard

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez (Rating 5) – Pandemic Pals. The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez is a pandemic novel in which the vulnerables are NOT those most likely to succumb to the virus, but physically and financially robust people who were isolated and alienated before the lockdown. The book focuses on three characters who share a sumptuous NYC apartment: a blocked middle-aged novelist (the unnamed narrator who is an undisguised stand-in for the author); a handsome and playful if not very talkative parrot, Eureka, for whom she house-sits; and a privileged college drop-out she calls “Vetch” who’s been kicked out by his parents and struggles with a history of mental illness. Plot-wise, nothing much happens, just as one would expect in an uncrowded space occupied by beings with no emotional connection to one another. In literary-speak, the stakes are low. And yet the unfolding non-drama is thoroughly absorbing. The narrator’s random memories and observations reflect a state of mind that so many of us experienced during the pandemic. As a fiction writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Nunez’s talent for capturing the interior life of a solitary character in such an active and interactive way. Like her, even after the extreme impact of COVID has passed, we’re still left wondering what it meant, how it will continue to dominate our self-worth and world view, and how vulnerable we all are to another major bout of disruption. Nunez offers no answers, but her book provides good company as we muddle through.

Ruminations on the inescapable impact of COVID lockdown

Why writers read: “A good book is an event in my life.” – Stendhal

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Jazzed by Jill Dearman (Rating 5) – Note Perfect. Awkward Wilhelmina (Will) is obsessed with social butterfly Dolly. Both girls are talented musicians, Will on clarinet, Dolly on piano. Dolly is turned on by jazz and crime; Will is turned on by jazz and Dolly. In a master-slave lesbian relationship, that occasionally turns the tables, Dolly blows hot and cold while Will boils with desire and freezes with the fear of desertion. To guarantee the erratic Dolly’s love, the compliant Will agrees to do anything, even murder a fourteen-year-old boy. Thus unfolds a gender-bending version of the scandalous 1924 Leopold and Loeb case. Dearman captures the Zeitgeist of the era — prohibition, antisemitism, social snobbery, homophobia, and the perceived threat of “Negro music.” The writing is itself a riff on jazz, at times syncopated and lively, at other times sustained and lugubrious. Like jazz artists, the protagonists trade solos, then meld their sounds. As a fiction writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire the fluidity with which Dearman shifts between styles as smoothly as a versatile musician. She takes us into the minds of her fully developed, complex characters, while also portraying their families’ social status, the legal system that traps them, and the medical establishment that purports to “treat” their sexual deviance. Jazzed is a note-perfect novel.

A gender-bending twist on an infamous crime story

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

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Day: A Novel by Michael Cunningham (Rating 5) – Ourselves, Only More So. Day: A Novel by Michael Cunningham tracks the lives of a family and its satellites — five adults and three children in all — on the same April date in three consecutive years: 2019, 2020, and 2021, before, during, and after the height of the pandemic. Compared to many people, they are not very inconvenienced. One is tempted to dismiss them as self-absorbed middle class New Yorkers, yet Cunningham persuades us that these well-intentioned lost souls are worth our compassion. The narrative is very interior; Cunningham probes the minds of each character, child as well as adult, and excavates their often incompatible desires. As a novelist myself who uses multiple points of view (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page, I admire Cunningham’s ability to make each voice unique. I was particularly struck by the author’s choice to make the children, rather than the adults, ruminate about death. For children, life itself merits investigation, so death is no different. Adults, aware that their time on earth is ebbing, dare not dwell on its demise. By the book’s end, the world has changed, each person’s situation has changed, yet their relationships to work, home, and one another remain an unchanging loop. Time moves on, day to day and year to year, yet we remain who we are, only more so.

Eight characters, three years, one pandemic

Why writers read: “Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.” – Jane Smiley

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo (Rating 3) – For Insiders Only. Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo is the story of four Dominican sisters and two of their daughters. Men are tangential and, with one or two exceptions, not worth the trouble they cause. The six women propel the narrative, from their public gifts to their private parts. They make inspired pronouncements and unabashedly pleasure themselves. One sister foresees death in her dreams, another’s inner radar detects dishonesty, a third makes healing concoctions, and the fourth, lacking magical powers, channels the world’s pulse through dancing. The plot is driven by the second oldest sister’s decision to have a living wake. While she’s in good health; she’s determined to celebrate her life with her loved ones before she dies. The book’s chronology charts each woman’s actions and feelings before, during, and after this event. Their relationships to one another and to their heritage form the book’s substance. This is rich territory, yet I never fully immersed myself in the landscape. I repeatedly had to remind myself who was who. While the women’s individual stories are engaging, Acevedo fails to weave the intricate web of their “family” connections. Nor does Acevedo convey the “lore” of Dominican culture. She uses Spanish words without enough context for non-speakers to understand their meaning. As writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I take pains to avoid distancing readers from my characters in this way. I came to Family Lore eager to be welcomed into an intriguing family and be introduced to an underrepresented culture. Instead I often felt excluded from a narrative that was “for insiders only.” If I were invited to the wake, I would have nothing to say.

Women drive the narrative in this Dominican family

Why writers read: “There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.” – Emily Dickinson

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Shape of Normal: A Memoir of Motherhood, Disability & Embracing a Different Kind of Perfect by Catherine Shields (Rating 5) – Holding On, Letting Go. I approached The Shape of Normal: A Memoir of Motherhood, Disability & Embracing a Different Kind of Perfect by Catherine Shields from four perspectives: a reader; a writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page; a developmental psychologist specializing in early education; and a (grand)parent who wants those I love to get the best and be their best. Shields more than satisfied me on all those dimensions. Her memoir is an unstintingly honest, emotionally absorbing, and deeply personal narrative. It directly addresses the pros and cons of the educational, medical, and social-psychological systems designed to meet the needs of children with disabilities and their families. Above all, it invites readers to accompany Shields on her journey of discovery about her amazing daughter Jessica and, above all, herself. She doesn’t shy away from confronting the strains that having a child with disabilities places on a marriage and other siblings. Nor does she gloss over her own self-doubt, impatience, and anger. Shields hiked an uphill path, toting an image of what her child should be before letting go and accepting who she was. A good trekker, Shields faced each mile with better developed muscles and more inner strength. Then she wrote a perfect book.

A mother’s honest story of her journey to acceptance

Why writers read: “Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us how to live and die.” – Anne Lamott