For Mother's Day: "What My Mother Gave Me," edited by Elizabeth Benedict

Today's post is in honor of Mother's Day tomorrow. As a woman who has a wonderful mother, and is a mother to a wonderful adult daughter, I was of course drawn to a collection of essays by women writers titled “What My Mother Gave Me: Thirty-one Women on the Gifts that Mattered Most” (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2013), edited by the novelist Elizabeth Benedict (whose edited book, "Mentors, Muses & Monsters: 30 Writers on the People Who Changed Their Lives," was one of the very first books I wrote about on this blog). This book is easy to read quickly, but many of the contributions merit being read, or re-read, slowly. This could easily have been a collection of Hallmark-y, tritely sentimental pieces, but it isn’t; the brief essays are original, thoughtful, surprising, and touching. Not all of the writers had good relationships with their mothers, and some are very clear-eyed about their mothers’ shortcomings. But each of the writers has a memory of some point of connection and love, whether it be representative of a wonderful relationship or an exception in a difficult relationship. Sometimes the gift described is a physical object; sometimes it is a shared memorable experience; and sometimes it is a trait passed on from mother to daughter. Among the gifts are a photograph, a book, jewelry, clothing, a quilt, trips, a love of dressing well or of creating a hospitable home, and a positive attitude toward life. A bonus for me, and for many other readers, I am sure, is the chance to read some of our favorite writers as they share these very personal memories. The writers include, to name some of the authors with whose work I am most familiar, Mary Gordon, Joyce Carol Oates, Elissa Schappell, Caroline Leavitt, Katha Pollitt, Rita Dove, Lisa See, Marge Piercy, Mary Morris, and Elinor Lipman (about whose two 2013 books I have very recently posted).

"The Mothers," by Jennifer Gilmore

I am usually wary of novels that are “about” a certain topic. “The Mothers,” by Jennifer Gilmore, is decidedly and unapologetically about adoption, and it is worth reading because Gilmore creates an emotionally gripping novel about the painful, long drawn out process a couple often goes through when trying to adopt. Although I knew intellectually that prospective adoptive parents often encounter difficulties, I wasn’t truly aware of how difficult it (usually) is to adopt, and of the enormous emotional toll it often takes on those hopeful couples. (I know single people adopt as well, and I believe it is even harder for them, but this novel focuses on a heterosexual couple, Jesse and Ramon.) Children to adopt are less and less available in the United States, and many other countries do not permit, or have stopped permitting, Americans to adopt their children. An added source of stress is the constant wonder about the best answers to give, and the ideal ways to present themselves, to adoption agencies and/or, in the case of open adoptions, to the pregnant birth mothers who will decide to whom their children will go for adoption. A strange courtship process goes on in these cases, causing the main character of this novel, for example, to constantly second guess herself, her communication with the birth mothers, and the birth mothers’ motives. Gilmore makes us live through and feel every stage of the decision, the search, the hopes, the setbacks, the scams, and more. She never lets us off the hook. I won’t spoil the story by revealing what happens at the end of the novel. __

"The View from Penthouse B," by Elinor Lipman

Elinor Lipman has had a good year this year. In addition to her new collection of essays, "I Can't Complain," which I posted about last time, she has just published another 2013 title, the novel "The View from Penthouse B" (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). Written with her usual wry humor, this novel tells of recent middle-aged widow Gwen-Laura Schmidt's moving in with her recently divorced older sister, Margo, in her beautiful penthouse apartment. Margo's husband Charles is in prison; he is a doctor who was found to be practicing medical fraud of an unusual sort. In addition, Margo lost all her divorce settlement to Bernie Madoff's Ponzi scheme. So the sisters live in a beautiful Manhattan apartment but have little money. They take in a renter, young gay aspiring pastry chef Anthony, who becomes a kind of surrogate son and friend. The three of them create their own version of family, and are very involved with each other's lives. Other characters include Gwen and Margo's sister Betsy, Gwen's support group, Charles' recently discovered 19 year old son, Chaz; Anthony's sister Olivia; and a few others. A major plot line is whether and when Gwen will be ready to date again; her adventures into the dating world are humorously described. Another plot line is, upon his release from prison, Charles's courtship of his ex-wife Margo. There are several topical themes, including the Madoff issue, and the vicissitudes of middle-aged dating, especially meeting potential dates online. But finally the main topic is how we all need people who care about us, who have our backs, and how these people may be family members, romantic and/or marital partners, roommates, and/or friends; we all -- if we are lucky -- make our own versions of family, our own support systems. Lipman is perhaps not among the very top literary writers of this generation, but she reliably produces well written, engaging, entertaining, funny and touching books, novels that embody her deep sense of humanity couched in a humorous mode. Her books are generous gifts to her readers.

"I Can't Complain," by Elinor Lipman

Elinor Lipman is known for her entertaining novels, her personal essays, and her humorous but pointed political commentary in the form of verse. “I Can’t Complain: (All Too) Personal Essays” (Houghton Mifflin, 2013) is a smallish (161 pages), varied, and very enjoyable collection of essays, all but one essay previously published in various magazines and newspapers. Thus they are short, catchy, light as a feather but not lightweight, and although sometimes about very serious topics, never too dour. They are grouped into four categories: “Meet the Family,” “On Writing,” “Coupling Columns” (about romance and marriage), and “Since Then” (about life after her husband’s recent death). She writes about her mother, her son, her husband, soap opera, food, cleaning, having one’s book made into a movie, New York, blurbing, author’s anxieties, and much more. One of the most touching and moving essays, “This Is for You,” was published in the New York Times’ Modern Love column (as “Sweetest at the End”), and is about her husband, before and during his cruel last illness, and her relationship with him over the years. (He is also featured in a few others of the essays.) Another, titled “I Still Think, Call Her,” is a lovely tribute to her late mother. This is an entertaining, heartwarming book; I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and was touched by it as well.

Anna Quindlen Interview

I don't have time to read The New York Times regularly (too many other periodicals and books to read) but for many years I have subscribed to the weekly The New York Times Book Review, which I find enormously informative and enjoyable to read. Of course the reviews are the main point, but I also enjoy features such as the essay at the end of each issue, and the "By the Book" interviews with authors. The interview in the April 21, 2013 issue is with Anna Quindlen. I have always admired Quindlen's pioneering role in journalism, and have enjoyed reading her work, from when she was a journalist and columnist through her several novels and essay collections. This brief interview in the NYTBR seems to capture the smart, committed, warm, down-to-earth, unpretentious presence conveyed in her writing as well. Her answer to the first question immediately reminded me of why I like her persona and writing. In answer to the question "What's your favorite book of all time?", she says she can't choose one, but lists "Middlemarch," "Bleak House," and "Pride and Prejudice." Great list! She also cites Jo March in "Little Women" as her favorite childhood literary character. Her mentions of George Eliot's, Jane Austen's, and Louisa May Alcott's works remind me of Virginia Woolf's point that every pioneering woman writer becomes a much needed role model for succeeding generations of women writers, empowering them with their examples. When asked about other books and authors she reads nowadays, Quindlen is generous in her praise of such authors as Katherine Boo, Kate Atkinson, and Hilary Mantel. Asked what kind of fiction she steers clear of, she says, " I think 'experimental fiction' is a synonym for 'Give me a break,' and I've never been able to warm up to sci-fi." Definitely a woman after my own heart on both counts. But when invited to name a "disappointing, overrated, just not good" book, she considerately declines to do so, saying that "No one needs to be humiliated...by reading in The Times that someone chucked her book after three chapters." Of course I immediately wondered if she had a specific book in mind, and what it was, but I guess I will never know, and I honor her kindness in not naming a book. Those who know what MY favorite book is will imagine how pleased I was to read the answer to the last question of the interview, "If you could meet any character from literature, who would it be?" Quindlen replies, "Elizabeth Bennet. We would be buds for sure, power-walking the grounds of Pemberley. And I would get to hang out with Darcy." Great choice!

"Life After Life," by Jill McCorkle

Oddly, two novels with the same title – “Life After Life” – have very recently been published, one by Jill McCorkle and one by Kate Atkinson, both wonderful writers whose prior fiction I have read and appreciated. Today I am writing about Jill McCorkle’s version of “Life After Life” (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2013). (I can’t resist adding -- although it is not strictly relevant -- that I enjoy typing “Chapel Hill” because my daughter went to the university there for her undergraduate degree and loved it.) This novel is set mainly in the Pine Center Retirement Facility in the small town of Fulton, North Carolina. It describes the lives – past and present – of several residents at that home, along with some of their family members, friends, neighbors, and assistants. The main character, Joanna, who is both a character and an observer of the other characters, originally came from this town, but has been away for years, traveling, marrying three times, and trying to figure out her life. She recently came back to the area to take care of her father during his dying days, and to be a hospice worker. Her friend C.J. runs the beauty salon in Pine Haven. Both of these young-to-middle-aged women have many issues and secrets, but are gaining peace and hope for better futures. Their stories are interesting, but the residents of Pine Haven and their lives and memories are the most compelling. The story of the admirable, wise and kind former teacher, 85-year-old Sadie, and the way she helps the other residents through her art work recreating scenes in their lives, is particularly engaging and touching. Sadie also befriends the young girl Abby, who badly needs her affection, reassurance, and guidance, since the girl's mother is unbelievably selfish and cruel, and her father, while loving, is distracted and passive. McCorkle understands older people, and treats them first and foremost as people -- like any other characters -- rather than focusing on their ages as their main or even only defining identities (as too many writers and others do), while acknowledging the role and meaning of aging in their lives. As I have written here before, there are not enough novels about older people, and even fewer that are insightful and respectful, acknowledging that older people are the same people as when they were younger, and not some separate category of humankind. So I welcome this novel on that basis, as well as because it creates a small world (though always influenced by the larger world out there) that catches the reader up in its stories and makes us care about the characters. The world McCorkle creates here -- like the larger world -- is full of love, hate, violence, sadness, cruelty, caring, the unexpected, joy, appreciation of life, reconciliation, and redemption.

"The Interestings," by Meg Wolitzer

Naturally I HAD to read Meg Wolitzer’s new novel, “The Interestings” (Riverhead, 2013). I have read most of her fiction over the years, always with pleasure, and the reviews of this new book have been very positive. In addition, I realize that recently I have been wanting to read a “big” literary novel that would catch me up and absorb me. This novel is that big one, at 468 pages, with so many of the elements I enjoy: a group of friends whose intertwined lives are portrayed over a period of many years; compelling characters; intriguing intersecting plot lines; explorations of current topics and events from the 1970s through the 2000s; questions about careers and life choices; sex, love, marriage, children; feelings of insecurity, connection, guilt, envy, loss, and celebration; and a New York City setting (with side trips to the formative summer camp where the characters first met, to Europe, and elsewhere). Besides being very well written and tremendously enjoyable to read, the novel is a commentary on our times, especially in terms of social class and economic success, or lack thereof. One of the main characters, Jules, cannot help being envious of her friends Ethan and Ash and their enormous success, affluence, and fame. The focus on who has not-quite-enough money, who has more money, and who has the most money might seem inappropriate when so many have so much less than any of these characters, but it is a topic of great concern in the U.S. today, and preoccupies many, so it seems to me a legitimate subject for fiction about today’s world, or at least this slice of today’s world. Wolitzer seems to be aiming in this novel at a larger stage, a bigger voice, more social commentary even than in her earlier novels, and she largely succeeds. The blend of a good, absorbing story and social commentary is, I believe, what often makes the best fiction. (Side note: I have also been enjoying for years the fiction of Wolitzer’s mother, Hilma Wolitzer, and I love the idea of the mother and daughter both being wonderful and successful novelists.)