"Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss," by Margaret Renkl

Having recently lost my mother (and having lost my father sixteen years ago, as well as other relatives and friends along the way), I find myself drawn to accounts of loss and death and their effects on those left behind. The current corona virus pandemic adds to this forced preoccupation with illness and death. One beautifully written account is “Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss” (Milkwood, 2019), by the New York Times opinion writer Margaret Renkl. This powerful and evocative collection of short, interconnected, memoiristic chapters tells stories of the author’s family history, of the sustenance and joy she receives from family (alive and deceased), from gardening and close attention to birds and other elements of nature, and yes, of the losses she has experienced. There is a poetic quality to Renkl’s writing. Complementing the writing are the lovely illustrations, mostly of birds and other aspects of nature, by Renkl’s brother Billy Renkl. There is a unique balance of the delicate and the sturdy in the descriptions of the family and nature. I will end with a few lines from the book that especially spoke to me. “Dad had always been the one person who could make me feel both completely protected and certain of my own strength” (p. 154). Both of my parents made me feel that way too, and I know how fortunate I am to have had that foundation, which has sustained me my whole life. “I think of…my parents every single day. They are an absence made palpably present, as though their most vivid traits…had formed a thin membrane between me and the world: because they are gone, I see everything differently” (p. 191). I can only say “yes” to this description. And this one: “Here is what no one told me about grief: you inhabit it like a skin. Everywhere you go, you wear grief under your clothes. Everything you see, you see through it, like a film” (p. 218). Yes. Yet this book is not only about loss and pain; it is also about the consolations of life, of nature. Renkl ends with this: “There is nothing at all to fear. Walk out into the springtime, and look: the birds welcome you with a chorus. The flowers turn their faces to your face. The last of last year’s leaves, still damp in the shadows, smell ripe and faintly of fall” (p. 218), and “I learned the world would go on. An irreplaceable life had winked out in an instant, but outside my window, the world was flaring up in celebration” (p. 219). The strength of this book -- besides the impressively beautiful writing -- is the realistic weaving together of the feelings of grief and the feelings of consolation. This book speaks to me on both levels, as I am sure it does to many of its readers.

"Calling It Quits: Late-Life Divorce and Starting Over," by Deirdre Bair

Having very recently read and posted on (2/18/20) Deirdre Bair’s new book on her experiences researching and writing biographies of Samuel Beckett and Simone De Beauvoir, I picked up and read her earlier book on a completely different topic, late-life divorce, titled “Calling It Quits: Late-Life Divorce and Starting Over” (Random House, 2007), and found it almost (not quite, but only because the new book was exceptional) as engaging as the more recent book. In other words, she is a good writer and teller of stories, no matter what the topic. Before going further, I will note that yes, my husband and I have been married for a long time, but no, we are not considering a divorce! But I was fascinated by the many, many stories of those who did divorce, including consideration of why they divorced, how their lives changed afterward, the problems and rewards of divorce, and how the divorces affected the (mostly adult) children of those divorced couples. Bair did extensive research on the topic, but this was not surprising considering how much deep and far-reaching research she did on her biographies. The research for this book included interviews with 184 women, 126 men, and 84 adult children, as well as with many lawyers, mediators, judges, therapists, social workers, and others who work with those divorcing and divorced. The reasons for divorce were of course various, but without simplifying too much, almost all came down to “freedom.” Bair delves into the emotional, financial, and other consequences of divorce. She notes that when people really wanted to divorce, they did so despite often having drastically reduced financial security. Although not explicitly labeling her book feminist, she does in fact show that very often women are more harmed by divorce financially and logistically, not only because of sometimes vindictive husbands, but also because of outdated laws, conservative judges, and societal mindsets. These older women often did not work, or did not have real careers, because at the time they married, it was generally assumed that women would stay at home to take care of the children, houses, and all domestic matters. Or they had careers, but their husbands’ careers always came first, and some of these required many moves, making it hard for the wives to have any continuity in their own careers. Fortunately, these assumptions and related laws have changed somewhat over the past years, including after this book was published in 2007. But to go back to the stories themselves, those shared by these interviewees (and informed by the author’s research of the literature as well) are what make the book so compelling. As always, the stories of human lives, loves, problems, struggles, failures, and triumphs, in all their particularities as well as their universalities, are what I -- and most of us, I believe – find irresistable to read about. Bair’s presentation of her research in such a riveting way is impressive.

"Drawing Power," edited by Diane Noomin

I recently (2/10/20) wrote about the graphic book (text and drawings), “Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations,” a meditation on race by Mira Jacob. I just finished another highly effective graphic book that focuses on social issues – in this case, violence against women. This substantial (in all senses of the word) book is labeled “A Comics Anthology,” and titled “Drawing Power: Women’s Stories of Sexual Violence, Harassment, and Survival” (Abrams, 2019), edited by Diane Noomin. (Note the dual meaning of the main title, “Drawing Power.”) The editor invited over five dozen women comics writers/artists to contribute their own stories about sexual violence and harassment in comics form. Individually and collectively, these personal stories are stunning, deeply sad, and very disturbing. They provide still more evidence to anyone who doubts that sexual abuse and gender-based mistreatment of women is found everywhere. The variety of situations is great, and yet the stories are essentially very similar. Despite the terribly difficult experiences and the longlasting consequences the contributors tell of, and that are so discouraging, there is also a note of hope: a sense that many of these women have learned to turn their experiences into at least partial healing, and into support of other women, through their art and their activism. Once again, we see the immense power of art. The words and drawings interact in a uniquely powerful way. The book is aptly dedicated to Anita Hill, and introduced by Roxane Gay.

"Parisian Lives: Samuel Beckett, Simone de Beauvoir, and Me," by Deirdre Bair

There are so many elements to love about the fascinating book, “Parisian Lives: Samuel Beckett, Simone de Beauvoir, and Me” (Doubleday, 2019), by Deirdre Bair. What a joy to read such a great writer writing about such great subjects – the Irish writer Samuel Beckett and the French feminist icon and writer Simone de Beauvoir. This book is a memoir about writing biographies, and I had trouble resisting all that that involved. Bair tells us how in recent years (she is now in her eighties) she looked back to the process of getting to know each of these famous writers, and from the perspective of many years later, how she sees what an improbable and amazing process it was. She describes how she decided, as a doctoral student in 1971, to write a biography of Beckett. She knew it was perhaps brash to propose herself to him as his biographer, and to secure his cooperation and his time for many interviews; she was young and an unknown and unproven writer. Many in academe and elsewhere thought it presumptuous of her. But, surprisingly, Beckett agreed. Thus Bair started down the long road of doing intensive research in various libraries, and conducting numerous interviews with Beckett as well as with many of his colleagues, friends, and associates. There were many trips to Paris (as well as Dublin and other locales), many times when Beckett was not able to meet with her (and often did not communicate with her about why), and much sometimes snarky cross-talk among Beckett and his associates about who had met with Bair and what they had said. After many delays (including Bair's always needing funding, and always needing to plan her trips around her family life), the biography was published in 1978 to much acclaim. Then, as Bair was casting about for her next project, she stumbled into writing about Simone de Beauvoir, famous both for her feminist writing and for her long relationship with the still-more-famous philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre; these two leading intellectuals/writers' unconventional relationship was a staple of French and international gossip. De Beauvoir also consented to this biography, and was generally cooperative, although – as with Beckett – there were glitches along the way. The de Beauvoir biography was published in 1990. Both of these biographies were well received (including the Beckett biography’s being awarded a National Book Award), although some scholars dismissed Bair’s writing, and/or spread rumors that she must have had a sexual relationship with Beckett in order to secure his cooperation on the biography; sadly, sexism was then (even more than now) rampant in the world of scholarship as elsewhere. One of the reasons “Parisian Lives” is so compelling is the way Bair takes us deeply into the process of research and writing, and shares with us the many unusual situations she encountered, and the many quirks of the two subjects as well as of the people who surrounded them. She has a great eye for the telling detail. And she is a flat-out excellent writer. Another strength of the book is Bair’s willingness to share with readers her initial lack of knowledge about what good biography would entail, as well as her worries and her missteps along the way. But we can also see how very determined she was, how very hard she worked, and how thorough her research was. She grew to be very fond of each writer, and in particular became a confidant of de Beauvoir, but also knew she had to keep a certain distance in order to do her work as a biographer. Bair went on to write biographies of a disparate group of famous people: Jung, Anais Nin, Saul Steinberg, and Al Capone. I highly recommend “Parisian Lives,” which I found completely engrossing throughout, to anyone interested in biography, memoir, literature, feminism, Paris, Beckett, and/or de Beauvoir. It is one of the very best books I have read recently.

"Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations," by Mira Jacob

I have written here about some wonderful “graphic” books (with text plus drawings) – novels, memoirs, and others – in the past few years. I just “read” (but what is the right word for absorbing a book that has both text and drawings/photographs/illustrations?...the word “read” doesn’t seem quite right) “Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations” (Random House, 2018), by Mira Jacob. The main topic is race and racism. The book is organized around the author’s own experiences, as an Indian American (but one of her topics is trying to decide the correct term for those whose families originally arrive in the United States from India), with race and racism. She starts by quoting some questions her young son asks about himself and their family, including whether he could or should be like Michael Jackson, whom he greatly admires. Jacob’s husband is white and Jewish, so their son is biracial. The son asks, “Was Michael Jackson brown or was he white?” When Jacob replies that he was black but then he turned white, her son asks if she will turn white, and whether his father was always white. As he asks more questions, Jacob is torn about how to answer, how to help her son make sense of race and ethnicity in the U.S. She finds herself talking to him about such concepts as cultural appropriation. In any case, these conversations provide an entry into her memoir about her own experiences, feelings, questions, and resentments. She writes of her parents’ experiences and feelings as well, including regarding their arranged marriage. Bringing in her Indian ethnicity and history also raises questions of religion, especially regarding Muslims and Hindus. Her husband tries to explain the Holocaust to their son. Jacob also discusses gender and sexual identities. She is good at exploring and pointing out bigotry, but also the confusions and questions about race, ethnicity, religion, gender, and sexuality. She is also good at pointing out the small examples of “everyday” racism, including by well-meaning people. She doesn’t use the word “microaggressions,” but those are in fact what she is in some cases describing. Now I have to say that I can’t quite describe the particular mixture in this book of questioning, describing problems, wry commentary, confusion, hurt, and compelling portrayals of daily life in a “mixed” family in the U.S. I will also note that the non-text parts are mostly in grey, with flashes of other colors, and use an intriguing technique of drawings that look like they are modeled on photographs, and that repeat the same drawings of the same faces (at least of the main characters) throughout the book. The idea of “good talk” seems to be that it is important to talk about these issues and experiences, but at the same time the book gently mocks itself as it is clear that there are not always correct or obvious answers to racial questions as they play out in daily life, and talk is not enough.

"In the Dream House: A Memoir," by Carmen Maria Machado

Carmen Maria Machado has, in her book “In the Dream House: A Memoir” (Graywolf, 2019), written the powerful, painfully candid, and brave story of her time with a female lover who was wonderful at first but gradually became possessive, cruel, and even violent toward Machado. The story is gripping, immensely difficult to “witness,” and tremendously well written. Machado has given readers a window into the world of domestic violence in the lesbian community, one seldom written about. The stereotype is that women are not (usually) violent, and lesbians are women who love other women and therefore are peaceful and kind. Of course this stereotype is not logical, but it has been the image that many have of lesbian relationships. Machado clearly hopes that by bringing openness to this topic, she will empower others to speak up and to stand up for themselves and for others in this situation. Her dedication, “If you need this book, it is for you,” perhaps says it all. In the course of telling her story, the author describes her time studying creative writing, teaching, and making her way into the literary world. She also tells readers of her background, and includes allusions to various aspects of both literary and popular culture. One interesting aspect of her story is her insights into the world of creative writing programs in the United States. But the main focus is the intense, obsessive, sometimes happy, but increasingly difficult and destructive relationship between the writer and her lover. Although the subject of abuse is difficult to read about, the writing is gripping.

"English Novelists," by Elizabeth Bowen

My dear friend B. recently gave me a book that was perfect for me! (She knows my literary taste very well!) Let’s start with the title – a simple “English Novelists.” Although I have read, enjoyed, valued, and learned from novels from around the world, I must admit that I have always had a very special place in my heart for English novels, by English novelists. Next: The author is Elizabeth Bowen, a longtime favorite novelist of mine. In the case of this book, she is a literary historian and critic as well. Third, the physical appearance of the book: It is a slim book (of 48 pages), with a worn-at-the-corners and slightly-torn dust jacket featuring a drawing of a writing quill. The back cover tells us that this book is part of a series titled “Britain in Pictures,” which includes enticing titles such as “English Poets,” “English Women,” “English Villages,” “The Story of Scotland,” “English Children,” and many more. Inside the front cover, there is a handwritten name of a former owner of the book, apparently a military man with a military address, perhaps a soldier during World War II, taking some time to focus on something he loves – literature – in the midst of the horrors of war. The title page tells us this book was published by William Collins of London in 1942. It is also noted that the book includes “8 plates in colour” and “19 illustrations in black & white,” and indeed these plates and illustrations, scattered throughout the book, are charming. Bowen gives very brief histories of the authors, works, styles, and reputations of several writers, starting with Henry Fielding and continuing with such authors as Daniel Defoe, Samuel Richardson, and Laurence Sterne. Then there are Fanny Burney, Jane Austen, William Thackeray, and Charles Dickens, who are followed by Sir Walter Scott, the Bronte sisters, Elizabeth Gaskell, George Eliot, Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling, Arnold Bennett and a few others. Bowen concludes with E.M. Forster and Virginia Woolf. She sets the context for each new generation of writers, is concisely informative about each author, and offers her own opinions about their works and their places in literary history. A couple of her opinions surprised me, such as her very guarded and hedged praise of George Eliot; Eliot is one of my favorites, but I did understand some of Bowen’s criticisms. In any case, I loved looking at, holding, leafing through and reading this brief but concentrated look at the development of the English novel and its best-known authors. Everything about it came together to make it a very appealing book. It will have a special place on my bookshelves.