"Lives of the Wives: Five Literary Marriages," by Carmela Ciuraru

There is nothing like well-written, informative, insightful literary biography with a splash of good gossip for good measure! “Lives of the Wives: Five Literary Marriages” (Harper, 2023), by Carmela Ciuraru, gives the life stories of each member of five twentieth-century couples, along with astute analysis of each couple’s relationship. The couples are Una Troubridge and Radclyffe Hall (although they were both women, Troubridge was clearly the “wife” figure); Elsa Morante and Alberto Moravia; Elaine Dundy and Kenneth Tynan; Elizabeth Jane Howard and Kingsley Amis; and Patricia Neal and Roald Dahl. The author’s clear focus is on the ways that the wives, although mostly writers themselves, were very much in traditional “wifely” roles of supporting the “great men” writers. They had to squeeze their own writing (or acting, in the case of Patricia Neal) between and around the housework, childcare, typing, editing, emotional shoring-up, way-smoothing, and other typical “duties” of wives, literary or otherwise. It was assumed by their male partners (and the lesbian Radclyffe Hall) that things should and would be this way. The misogyny was unsurprising for the time, but still disturbing and sad to read about. There was also often jealousy by the male writers when their wives’ literary works were more successful than their own. The biographies and analyses in this book are fascinating, and the writing is excellent. And I admit that the (fairly discreet but definitely juicy) gossipy parts are both shocking and intriguing. I highly recommend this book.

"You Could Make This Place Beautiful," by Maggie Smith

Bereavement is one kind of loss, one that I have written several times about (e.g., 12/22/22) because of my own grieving the death of my beloved husband. I just finished a book about the grieving of a different kind of loss: the end of a marriage. Maggie Smith (“Not that one,” as she writes!) has written an affecting, painful, but ultimately hopeful memoir titled “You Could Make This Place Beautiful” (One Signal/Atria, 2023) about the end of her marriage. She writes the story of the marriage itself, as well as its end, and of the time after. She tries hard to be fair to her ex-husband, and preserves his privacy as much as possible. But she is first in disbelief, then very angry and very sad for a long time. A thread running through the book is not only her own pain, but her worry about how the divorce affects her two children. Another thread is her realization that throughout her marriage, she had tried so hard to make herself small, to allow her husband’s needs to come first, and to minimize the time and energy that her writing and editing career took. Afterward, she is angry at her ex-spouse and, to some extent, herself for this unspoken agreement the two of them seem to have had, and for his expectation that she would always put the roles of wife and mother before any of her own work and personal needs. He doesn’t put the same demands upon himself, giving the rationale that he is making more money than she is. The story is written in short vignettes that have a poetic feel (Smith is in fact a poet), and the author’s experiences, told this way, feel very immediate. She takes us through her journey, and we are happy for her that -- eventually -- she works her way toward a kind of acceptance and peace, and even joy in her new life. But of course there are scars. I admire the writer’s candor, and her generosity in sharing her experiences and feelings -- both visceral and thoughtful -- in a way that many people -- women especially, but not only --will relate to.

The Power of Story; the Power of "Charlotte's Web"

I have written often about the power of narrative, of story, and how stories have always drawn me (as they do most human beings). I have also written here (12/22/22, for example) about the comfort of reading memoirs and novels during times of great loss. I thought about both of these ideas when recently, I am not sure why, the great children’s book, “Charlotte’s Web” (1952), written by E.B. White and illustrated by Garth Williams, came to mind. I remembered that when my mother read this book to me when I was about 5 or 6 years old, I would love it, but also would weep at the sad parts near the end, and then I would ask her to read it again, and again, and again. The sadness was part of the story, and painful as it was, the power of the story made me want to hear it again and again. And although sad, it is a lovely story, a story about love, nature, respect, and kindness. I can remember so clearly my feelings during those readings. As I said: the power of story. I am still absolutely and completely in thrall to that same power of story, these many decades and countless stories later. (P.S. Even if you are an adult, if you have never read “Charlotte’s Web,” please do! I am sure you will be moved by the words, the illustrations, the characters, the gentle humor, the pathos, and most of all, the story.)

"We Should Not Be Friends: The Story of a Friendship," by Will Schwalbe

So many books – both fiction and nonfiction – are written about romantic love and about family love, but far fewer are written about friendship. Yet for most of us, friendship is a huge and treasured component of our lives. I look out for books focusing on friendship, and I very much enjoyed Will Schwalbe’s memoir “We Should Not Be Friends: The Story of a Friendship” (Knopf, 2023). The author writes of a lifelong friendship with a young man he met in college, Chris Maxey, known to all as Maxey. The author, a gay man interested in the arts, was biased against the “jocks” at Yale, yet when he joined a secret society there, he and Maxey –- a straight man and a star wrestler -- against all expectations became closer and closer friends, and their friendship only deepened throughout the years. They continued to live very different lives after college, yet they both dealt with matters of family, romance, career, and aging, and they became great supporters of each other. Schwalbe grew to admire Maxey deeply for his work as an educator and an environmentalist, and for his utter loyalty as a friend. This memoir moves along briskly, with stops for reflecting on friendship (and life, more generally). The writer is an excellent storyteller, and the two protagonists have each had interesting and fulfilling lives. But the best part of the memoir is the throughline of the friendship between the two men. This friendship meant and means so much to each of them, and has been such a sustaining part of each of their lives, even when they sometimes didn’t see each other for fairly long periods of time, and even occasionally fell out slightly over a disagreement or misunderstanding. It is a story which is compelling and even inspiring, without trying to be stereotypically “inspiring.” I truly appreciated this thoughtful and enjoyable look at two very relatable men and their long friendship. ________

"Hello Beautiful," by Ann Napolitano

“Hello Beautiful” (Dial Press, 2023), by Ann Napolitano, is a gorgeously written novel. It focuses on all my favorite themes: family, love, friendship, the passing of time, emotions, what changes and what stays the same in life, and more. The family at the center of the story is, in a very real sense, collectively the main character. Loosely – very loosely – an “homage” to the famous story “Little Women,” the Padavano family, of Chicago, consists of four sisters who argue about who is Beth and who is Jo in “Little Women,” but they are extremely close…until they aren’t (for a while…). They have a loving but strict and even at times unforgiving mother, and a loving but alcoholic and somewhat ineffectual father. The other main character is William, who grew up in a very cold family, one that was nearly destroyed by the death of William’s adored sister at the age of three, and never recovered. He basically falls in love with the whole Padavano family. Other relatives, friends, neighbors, and classmates are characters as well, winding in and out of the story. The interactions among these characters over the years are intense and volatile. The plot keeps us interested, and the reader (at least this reader) becomes caught up in the strong relationships and emotions. I want to emphasize how well the novel is written; the same events in a lesser writer’s hands would perhaps seem run-of-the-mill, but Napolitano creates something original and special here. A bonus for me: William is a basketball player and later a “physio” who works with basketball players, and the author describes many aspects of the basketball world. (But don't worry if you are not a basketball fan; this part of the novel is fairly small.) It happens that basketball is the one sport I watch somewhat regularly (see my post of 3/29/23 about why I like to read the sports section of the newspaper). In the acknowledgements section, Napolitano mentions that she is a Golden State Warriors fan (that’s my team!) and specifically mentions a few players such as our star, Steph Curry, “for the joy with which he plays.” My sentiments exactly!

"The Chinese Groove," by Kathryn Ma

The descriptions in reviews of “The Chinese Groove” (Counterpoint, 2023), a novel by Kathryn Ma, did not immediately draw me in. But I had read Ma’s previous book, “All That Work and Still No Boys,” and very much liked it, so I thought I would try this novel. An added attraction was that it takes place (mostly) in San Francisco. The term “the Chinese groove” refers to what (some) new immigrants from China to the U.S. believe and hope will be true: that the network of already-settled-in-the-U.S. family members, friends, and even new acquaintances will help smooth the way for new immigrants, helping them find jobs, housing, and more. In the experience of the protagonist of this novel, whose American name is Shelley, this belief turns out to be, at various times, both very untrue and then sometimes very true. Shelley is a character who is both very naïve and very smart, one who picks up vibes and nuances quite quickly. He learns to “use” people but not in an obnoxious or harmful way; he is actually very loyal to anyone even tangentially related to him, and/or anyone who is kind to him. And he truly cares about the people he meets along the way in his new situation. He is a romantic at heart. He – and the novel – are also very funny. We readers are happy to follow along as Shelley finds his way.

"Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow," by Gabriel Zevin

I never thought I would enjoy reading a novel about video game designers. I have never played a video game, or really, in my adult life, any games at all other than the very occasional card or board game. But the reviews lured me in, and I read Gabrielle Zevin’s 400-page novel, “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” (Knopf, 2022) in about two days. The gaming world, or at least this version of it, was more interesting to me than I expected. It was good for me to explore this world so different from my own. But of course the elements that made me read the novel so quickly were the ones I always look for in good fiction: interesting characters, relatable situations, much focus on relationships among the characters, and themes of identity, family, and yes, love in all its varieties. The two main characters, Sadie and Sam, the ones whose games become famous, have known each other since childhood, and have become bonded as friends and something greater than friends, although not lovers. Along with creativity and success, there are bumps, misunderstandings, and even tragedies along the way. But what drew them to each other persists.