Posts Tagged ‘mother’

Cost

August 10th, 2009

CostAs I tried to finish Cost by Roxana Robinson, I juggled my schedule and made more than one bargain with myself.  ”Just one more chapter, then I’ll put away the laundry.”  ”If I can finish this section in thirty minutes, I’ll still make it out the door on time.” I love a novel like that; I love it when I just want to keep immersed in the world the author has created.

I suppose I should classify this novel as another piece of “professor literature.”  Both of the parents, Wendell and Julia, are professors.  They are now divorced, and Julia got the summer house in Maine.  I love how professors in books always have a summer house in Maine.  Julia is an art history professor and an artist with a studio at the house, so the location plays an important role in the plot.  As the novel opens, Julia has invited her aging parents for a visit and is tense about having them in the house.  In the beginning, each chapter is from a different character’s point of view.  At first I resisted this because I had just finished another novel with the same conceit.

Fortunately, I didn’t let the slow opening stop me.  The novel picks up with the introduction of Jack, Julia’s son.  Jack is addicted to heroin.  While the plot keeps the reader asking, “will he come clean?”  and “how bad will it get for the family?”, Robinson uses the situation to explore all of the dynamics of this stiff and distant family.  I kept making bargains to spend more time reading because I never knew where the next insight would come from. By pacing the first two-thirds of the novel over the space of three days, Robinson shows how families negotiate the morass of their past while shuffling through the day-by-day minutiae of ordinary life.  The big revelations come, not with the big scenes, but in the time the characters must spend waiting and worrying.I found this much more realistic than some of the shouting scenes you get in Hollywood films about families.  Because Robinson shifts from the interior thoughts of one character to the next, she’s also able to capture how one family member may have an important insight, but choose not to share it.  This would be nearly impossible to capture in a film, but again is a realistic depiction of family life.

For me, this was a thoroughly satisfying book.  It was a delight to read such a carefully planned and plotted novel.  All the laundry may not be folded, but now I have some good food for thought when I do get to it. As I sort socks, I’ll also be sorting out how the title word, “cost,” played out for each member of the family.  What did Jack’s addiction cost, literally and metaphorically?  I realize now how thoroughly Robinson drew me into the world of her characters.  As each bargained for Jack’s life, I made all those little bargains to keep reading.

Domestic Vacations

July 29th, 2009

Domestic VacationsOver the weekend, my husband and I went to Cleveland.  While he was at a conference for work, I got to shop and browse the Cleveland Museum of Art.  Yes, I definitely had the better weekend.

At the museum, I was thrilled to see a piece hanging in the photography room by one of my good friend’s sister-in-law, Julie Blackmon. After browsing through all the famous works of art, it was pretty fun to see one by someone I’ve met.

Now, I’m totally coveting this gorgeous book of hers: Julie Blackmon: Domestic Vacations.  Click over to her website, and you’ll see why.  Blackmon creates these amazing images of day-to-day life, always with a little jarring detail.  In one of my favorite images, a woman rests in bed, reading Eat, Pray, Love.  In the room, there’s a little bit of clutter and a small girl holding a boar’s head.  The surreal twist is what captures that desire to escape so uniquely.  She’s been influenced by the 17th century Dutch artist Jan Steen, an artist who captured all the complexity and energy of family life.  Blackmon does just the same.

If you’re looking for a clever, charming coffe table book for a gift or for your own living room, I’d highly recommend this one.  I plan to order a copy ASAP!

Perfection

July 6th, 2009

PerfectionLast Thursday while driving to work, I decided to procrastinate just another hour or so. I had purchased all my supplies for my tenure dossier and should have been chomping at the bit. But, before I started sorting through syllabi, e-mail, and committee meeting minutes, I wanted a little slack time. I sneaked off to Barnes and Noble and purchased Perfection: A Memoir of Betrayal and Renewal.  I leafed through several other books, but Metz’s opening sentence hooked me:

It happened like this: Henry’s footsteps on the old wooden floorboards.  The toilet flushing.  More footsteps, perhaps on the stairs.  Silence.  Then the thud.

Julie Metz’s memoir chronicles the death of her husband. Unlike Joan Didion’s heart-breaking Year of Magical Thinking, Metz’s loss reveals a secret side of her husband that she had long ignored.  Her husband had been cheating on her for three years.

After I bought the novel, I continued ignoring my tenure dossier at Panera.  In the bustling lunch-time press, I sank into a lovely lunch, happily alone in a crowd.  As I finished my salad and the first chapter, a woman came up and told me that she had just finished the book I was reading.  “Oh,” I replied, “what did you think?”

“I liked it, but the husband’s a real jerk.”

The woman’s no-nonsense assessment does sum up Metz’s husband succinctly.  However, the pull of the book for me was Metz’s struggle to sort out why she had married and stayed with “a real jerk.”  In some terrible way, her husband’s death was a blessing, the shock she needed to take control of her life.  At one point, Metz reprints Mary Oliver’s poem “The Summer Day.”  (By the way, there’s a great article on Oliver’s Provincetown on the NYT site.)  This poem has become one of my new favorites, and one that I had to share with my husband at dinner.  The poem ends:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?

Discovering Metz’s answer to the question made the book worthwhile and led me off on my own daydreams.  I think I might seriously revisit that question every few months to make sure that I don’t stray too far from my heart’s desire.

Bad Mother

June 22nd, 2009

Bad MotherAs Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace made the publicity rounds, I caught an interview with Aylet Waldman on Fresh AirI was immediately captivated by Waldman’s candor and sense of humor.  Of course, I was also a bit jealous of her life.  Married to the novelist, Michael Chabon, Waldman is able to juggle child care and writing to create a thoroughly satisfying life.  However, some people aren’t nearly as inspired as I am.  The title for her memoir was sparked by the backlash Waldman endured after writing, in an article for the New York Times, that she loved her husband more than her children. Actually, that’s not quite right.  What she really said was that she was in love with her husband in a way that she never would be with her children.

My first thought was, “exactly!”  If you don’t sustain the love that brought the two of you together as a couple, how can you happily raise children?  Unlike many of those who reacted vehemently and told Waldman that she was a horrible woman, I silently agreed that she was right on the mark. Of course, those naysayers would tell me that’s because I don’t have my own children.  It’s true that I don’t have any biological children, but I do have two incredible role models:  my mom and my step-dad, who are still openly in love after twenty-five years of marriage. In fact, all of my friends commented about how adorable my parents were, laughing and dancing, at my wedding.  My husband and I were so happy watching my parents celebrate their love and life together as we celebrated the beginning of our own journey together.

However you may feel about Waldman’s essay in the Times, I think this is a wonderful memoir to read if you are parenting.  Waldman shares the highs and lows of her life with four children.  Not only does Waldman write honestly about her individual choices, but she also analyzes the increasingly intense pressure that mothers face. Drawing on the reactions she received after publishing her essay and the growing “mommy” corner of the web, Waldman demonstrates a new (or perhaps very old, just newly packaged) stereotype of the “bad mother.”  What’s fascinating is how people don’t want to separate the countless decisions mothers must make from the whole, individual woman. Instead of discussing decisions within their contexts, it’s easier to just slap on the “good mother” or “bad mother” label.  Waldman shows how such black and white thinking harms women who internalize the dichotomy.   In this beautifully crafted memoir, Waldman shares her warmth and her humor to help us all understand how many shades of gray there really are when it comes to raising children.

everyone is beautiful

June 12th, 2009

everyone is beautifulEarly on in graduate school, I was an insufferable snob.  I only read fiction worthy of being labeled “Literature” with a capital “L.”  I worked at a chain bookstore at the mall and silently grimaced at each customer who happily paid for a stack of romance or mystery paperbacks.  Oh, what they were missing!  If someone asked for a recommendation, I’d offer up Morrison or McCarthy or someone else who was suitably ’serious.’  Then, one day, I was rushing through the airport, late for an international flight.  I hastily bought a frothy , British version of the newly-developing chick lit genre.  I had finished all my serious reading on vacation and couldn’t endure a seven-hour flight empty-handed.

That was one of the happiest flights of my life.  Reading that book brought back why I had loved to read before I had to write seminar papers or defend my insight to a roomful of ’serious’ readers.  As a kid, I had just read whatever I wanted.  I looked to books for answers, advice, escape, and plain old good stories.  Graduate school, with its eternal theories and its quest for the text beneath the text, had almost trained me to forget the pleasure of reading.  That little paperback reminded me why I had become an English major in the first place. 

Since that long-ago flight, I can proudly say that I have become quite a connoisseur of chick lit.  There’s probably a young woman at Barnes and Noble who cringes each time I approach the register with a new stack.  Some of the genre is atrocious, but I have my favorites, including Jennifer Weiner, Emily Griffin, and Sophie Kinsella.  Each writer takes her heroine seriously when the rest the world might not.  Today, I’m happy to add one more writer to the list: Katherine Center. In a single sitting, I read Everyone Is Beautiful. Center’s heroine, Lanie, has three small children and has just moved to a new town.  Her struggle to find her own identity again outside of motherhood is all to relatable.  Evan as “just a stepmom,” I find myself spending days doing nothing but laundry and dishes.  I can only imagine what it is like to constantly care for three little kids.  Center manages to capture the everyday details of motherhood with vivid accuracy.  Her writing is honest, compassionate, and compelling.  When I put the book down and mopped up my tears, I felt ready to spend a little more time chasing my own dreams and a little less time unloading the dishwasher.