Wednesday, May 24, 2017

An Evening with Elizabeth Berg

This week I saw Elizabeth Berg at the Troy Public Library in Troy, Michigan. The TPL hosts authors several times a year and was very excited to have Berg, the best-selling author whose book Durable Goods was picked for Oprah's Book Club.

I was fortunate to have read and reviewed her last book, The Dream Lover about George Sand, and also her upcoming novel The Story of Arthur Truluv, coming out in November. I had also read several of her early books when they came out.

My friend Theresa took a writing workshop with Berg and praised her sensitivity and encouragement.

Berg shared the history of her interest in writing, her varied career, and her experience in publishing. Read an article about at
http://www.candgnews.com/news/noted-author-elizabeth-berg-speak-community-center-101278

Berg's novel Durable Goods, published in 1993, was inspired by her experience as an 'army brat' with frequent moves and an adored but abusive father. The book led to a better relationship with her own father. And it ensured financial success as an Ophrah Book Club pick, selling 500,000 copies. She used some of her royalties to buy her father his dream car.

Berg's decision to be a nurse was a sudden revelation based on her desire to care for and love others. Of special interest was how her training as a nurse impacted her ability to create characters. Nurses are instructed to see the whole person and to leave all presumptions and prejudices behind.

I could definitely see how Berg's values and experience resulted in The Story of Arthur Trulov. Arthur has the ability to love wholly, even his difficult neighbor and a runaway teenage girl with a nose ring. I expect the book to be a huge hit, and I hope that the message of the story resonates with readers and changes lives.

The audience was interested in how Berg approaches writing. Berg does not follow a strict routine or schedule but waits for the story and characters to be ready.

I had the opportunity to ask Berg a question. After remarking on her upcoming novel I asked how she came to write The Dream Lover, a historical fiction/biographical fiction novel so unlike her other books.

Her answer was an old one: she became interested in Sand and wanted to read a fictional account of her life but found no one had written one. She first suggested the idea to fellow author Nancy Horan, who wrote Loving Frank about Frank Lloyd Wright and Mame Borthwick (which I have read twice) and Under the Wide and Starry Sky about Robert Louis Stevenson and his wife (which I can't wait to take off my TBR bookshelf). Horan replied that she was too tired, so Berg decided to write the book that she wanted to read.

It was a difficult process and she nearly gave the novel up several times. Then there were the rewrites suggested by her editor. In her career, Berg's editors rarely asked for a word changed. Lucky for us readers, she persisted and the book was completed.

Berg had considered a fictional account of the life of Carson McCullers but realized she did not want to live in that dark world. Instead, she has dedicated to writing books of inclusion and inspiration.

It was exciting for me to hear Berg mention that 'someone compared' The Story of  Arthur Truluv to a parable. Because that is just what I had written in my review to NetGalley and on Goodreads a few weeks previous! I can dream it was my review she was referencing. If not, at least I am not alone in my connection!

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

A Friend In Need: Allie and Bea by Catherine Ryan Hyde

When I have been reading a lot of 'heavy' books and need to lift my spirit to remember that good things can happen in this world of trials and conflict, I am glad to have Catherine Ryan Hyde to turn to. Her newest book, Allie and Bea, did not disappoint.

Hyde's books have a common thread: imperfect people with real life problems, often mired in anger or despair, are lifted through an empowering, healthy relationship.

This novel begins with Bea, a widow in her senior years, living on Social Security that can not cover her basic needs. Scammed out of her meagre savings, she has reached rock bottom and becomes a homeless vagrant living out of a panel van.

Enter Allie, a fifteen year old on the run for her life. When Allie's upper class parents opted for lifestyle over paying the IRS they ended up in jail. Allie is taken under Child Protective Service and placed in a group home for delinquents until a foster home opened up.

Allie has high standards for herself and holds others to them. It brings her into conflict with a violent girl, and fearing for her life, Allie joins a runaway girl only to find herself faced with a human trafficker.

Allie flags down Bea's van and forces her way into Bea's life, and in nine days together on the lam, Bea is brought to reevaluate her entire life and Allie finds someone who will stand by her when her family has failed her.

I enjoy how Hyde takes contemporary social issues and through likeable characters elicits an emotional understanding from readers. Yes, her endings are neat and sweet, but that is why I turn to her books. Sometimes we all need a wish fulfillment tale.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

Allie and Bea
Catherine Ryan Hyde
Lake Union Publishing
Publication Date: May 23 2017
$14.95 paperback
ISBN: 9781477819715

Monday, May 22, 2017

New Boy by Tracey Chevalier: Othello on the Playground

I looked forward to reading the Hogarth Shakespeare update of Othello by one of my favorite historical fiction authors, Tracey Chevalier.

Set in the 1970s, New Boy is the story of Osei Kokote, son of a diplomat from Ghana, newly arrived on the suburban Washington D.C. schoolyard. O, as he is called, soon finds that Dee, the most popular girl in school, chooses him to be her boyfriend. But Ian, the playground bully, sees his entire social hierarchy threatened by O's love conquest and kickball ability.

Racial stereotyping and prejudice simmers, unspoken but obvious in the teacher's attitudes. When teachers observe Dee and O touching each other's hair it only confirms their worst fears about the black boy.

Ian sets up a series of events to make O suspect his good fortune, bringing misery and physical harm.

Chevalier's playground society rings true to the character's age and time, and the Othello story becomes more chilling and disturbing played out by characters in an America divided by racism.

New Boy is a powerful book. It can stand on its own, but I hope it will be used to introduce young adult readers to Shakespeare's tragic play. I recommended it to my book club.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

New Boy
Tracey Chevalier
Hogarth
Publication May 16, 2017
$25 hardcover
ISBN: 9780553447637


Sunday, May 21, 2017

Some Rise By Sin, and Some By Virtue Fall

"...I damned myself by cooperating, and now I wish to make up for it and save my soul."
"If I were you, I'd be thinking about saving my fucking life, not my soul."
Father Riordan, a Franciscan priest, has been sent to the Sonoran Desert in Mexico where he has learned that things can always get worse. The police chief of his parish, San Patricio, has been assassinated and the village is caught in the war between a corrupt police department and a drug cartel gang hiding in the Sierra Madre mountains.

 The age-old question has always been: If God is good, why is there suffering and evil? 60,000 murders in six years have brought Riordan past doubt; he is losing his faith altogether.

As a young priest in Guatemala, Riordan preached liberation theology. He had faced guns in the hands of corrupt authorities before. Now a Mexican Federal agent insists he cooperates as an informer, sharing what he hears in the confessional booth to identify drug gang members.

Riordan must decide if breaking his vows is justified, even to identify rapists and murderers. It would mean being defrocked. And if he still believes, committing his eternal soul to damnation. Can doing the wrong thing for the right reason help his people? How best can he provide safety for his sheep?

Some Rise By Sin by Philip Caputo made me very thoughtful. His portrait of Mexico, a beautiful country that has become a "moral wilderness" is vivid.

In Caputo's Mexico NAFTA has ruined small orchard owners. Migrants heading north are kidnapped, then executed if the ransoms are unpaid. Young people get sucked into the drug mafia for easy money and luxuries, unable to ever get out--alive.
"Love does a lot, money everything. Making it is like eating nachos. Once you start, you can't stop until the bowl is empty. And then you order more."
The novel begins slow paced, focused on Riordan's internal life and thoughts, but rises to an action climax worthy of a thriller. The resolution comes suddenly and may leave readers unsatisfied. I found it profound, but then I am coming from a background familiar with theology and faith issues, and the symbolism of Riordan's choice resonates with me.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

Some Rise by Sin
Philip Caputo
Henry Holt & Co
$28 hardcover
ISBN: 9781627794749


Saturday, May 20, 2017

Nancy Goes to College: Greeks, Freaks, and GDIs

I have not thought about my freshman year at college for decades. Recreating the year from diaries and photos, and probing a few friends, brought revelations. 

Mr. Botens told my freshman English class in fall of 1966 that we are three people: the person you were in the past, the person you are now this minute, and the person you will and want to become in the future. During my freshman college year I was making very important decisions about the kind of woman I wanted to become.

Adrian Freshman yearbook photo
August, 1970, I arrived at Adrian College in Adrian, Michigan and moved into the second floor of Estes Hall. It was the dorm I had seen on my tour and had liked so well. As I unpacked the floral fabric suitcases I had received as a graduation gift, I was unpacking my past, a wardrobe and mementos from high school.
Carillon tower, Adrian College
The new album Crosby Stills Nash and Young  was blasting out of a men's dorm window near the quad where guys were always playing Frisbee. To this day, that music brings back the heady sounds of late summer, the joy of being young and on the cusp of new adventure. This year was a perpetual roller coaster of new experiences and new people.
Adrian College
Adrian College, with only 1,500 students, was half the size of Kimball High. Greek societies were important on campus, dorms were segregated, and girls had curfews. It was like living in the 50s.

There were four Kimball girls there: Me, Lynn Martin, Nancy Briggs, and Jan McDonald. Except for Lynn I rarely ran into any of them. Also, I knew a boy from my church and Sunday School class.

Lynn Martin
Nancy Briggs
Jan McDonald
Also in Estes Hall was my old friend Lynn Martin who was rooming with Marti from Redford.

My roommate Gloria was an extrovert and quickly made friends. I tagged along. She even organized 'dinner parties' which we jointly prepared in the dorm basement kitchen.

Our dorm room. I see my drawing on the lower left, art by my boyfriend,
 my lighted mirror and my guitar.

Our dorm room. The Love Story poster from my boyfriend.
When Gloria decided to run for class secretary she enlisted everyone in her campaign. She had posters made which we helped to hang in the cafeteria.

Me and Lynn, Adrian cafeteria

Lynn on the right, me on the left. Steve in the center
Working on Gloria's campaign.
I became friends with another Estes Hall girl, Elaine, and her high school boyfriend Tim. Elaine played the violin and mandolin. One night she used her Mary Kay cosmetics and gave me a makeover. Tim was in Phi Mu Alpha, a music fraternity, and I got to know many his brothers. For some reason we called him 'Uncle Tim' and his frat brothers were all 'Uncle' to me.

Gloria and Elaine
Tim and me
I took Eastern Civ because I already had a good basis in Western Civ  from Kimball from my Ancient and Medieval History and Modern History classes. I struggled with Freshman Composition and Lit. because of my lousy spelling and lack of skill in non-creative writing. Introduction to Philosophy was disappointing. It was all logic and not like what we had studied in Mr. Boten's Western Lit class.

I looked forward to Environmental Biology, having enjoyed Mr. Gasiorowski's high school class. Professor Husband was a great teacher. The class was held in a lecture hall for 100 students.

I sat next to Sendy whose father was a professor at Adrian. One day she told me she knew traditional Chinese palm reading and asked to read my palm. She said I had tapered, narrow fingers, which was unusual; I thought it because I had played piano since I was eight. Sendy said I would have a smooth life, have 'love affairs' but fall in love only once, that I would not have much of a career but I would have three children, and I live into my 80s before I had health problems. She also said I was intelligent but not an A student. I never had those three kids. I never had a real career. I did get A grades eventually. I'm still waiting to see about the long life.

Gym was required. I was OK at archery but lousy at volleyball. Then I tried Folk Dancing. My first partner was an artist--my type, I thought. I had a mad crush on him. Over the year we became friendly but not really friends. My second dance partner was a quiet, tall mountain of a man who was light on his feet and a better dancer than me!

Jim with his Smile pin
That fall I saw an ad in a magazine for Smile face pins and ordered them. I gave one to each new friend I made. I called it my 'People Collecting Club.' I gave out twenty pins over the year. By spring, the yellow Smiley face image could be found on sale everywhere. I was ahead of the curve!
The original order form for Smile face stuff
Over the next years people gave me all kinds of Smile face items.

I believe this year Adrian had seven African American students. Adrian was created by Asa Mahan, the first president of Oberlin College. He was an abolitionist involved in the Underground Railroad. Adrian now houses The Sojourner Truth Technical Training Center and digital archive on the Underground Railroad. I thought it was sad there was so little diversity on campus.
Friends finding out how many can fit into the Estes Hall phone booth


My parents' Halloween costumes 
At Thanksgiving break my old boyfriend came to visit my family with his wife and baby. I was very glad to be where I was instead of married with a kid. I went on a date with the boy I sometimes dated.
I am with my old boyfriend's baby.
I am wearing a wig, which were popular, and a peace dove button.
Jim few into town to visit me for a weekend. We had been writing all fall and he hoped to cement our relationship. His folks did not support his coming and I tried to dissuade him from coming. Dad took Jim, Tom, and me to Roselawn Cemetery at 12 MI in Berkley to fed the ducks at the pond there. I bet we are the only family that regularly went to the cemetery for fun!

I sang some Leonard Cohen songs I had learned including "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye." Jim became angry and asked if I was trying to tell him something. He had brought records to share with me. We were sitting on the floor in my living room listening on the high fi, the records scattered across the floor. My brother walked through the room near the records and Jim yelled a warning at him not to step on them. His response seemed unjustified. These flashes of petulance resulted in my realizing we had no future.

That fall The Association and Josh White Jr. performed on campus.

Marti, a lifelong United Methodist, took me to a communion chapel service before Christmas break. I was Episcopal and the United Methodist service was very different; I had a negative 'culture shock' first reaction.
Marti Boynton
At Christmas, I had a party with Kimball friends and my new friends Marti and Sam from Adrian. My friend since Jane Addams Jr High and fellow Girls Choir member Peggy D. and I played guitar. I also went on a date with the boy I sometimes saw.
Playing my guitar at the Christmas party
Second semester brought changes. Girls went out for Rush Week to choose sororities, including my roommate Gloria. She moved out to room with a sorority sister. Lynn and Marti parted ways and Marti became my roommate.
Marti in Estes Hall common area
I had decided to be a GDI--God Damned Independent--and not join a sorority. I did not like the exclusivity. I wanted to have friends from all kinds of backgrounds like I had at Kimball.
second semester ID
I was in the college choir, singing second alto. Marti was also in choir. Our concert piece was The Carmina Burana. We sang the opening piece O Fortuna in chapel!

I am front row center,
I was also was in the required Comp part two, Philosophy of Religion, Historical Geology, and Intro to History.

I loved Historical Geology class. In March the class went to a limestone quarry in Ohio to look for fossils. I loved rock collecting and thought it was great fun. It was a beautiful day. I wrote, "We all separate, diligently, eagerly, clawing at the rocks and crumbling rubble, coming up with brachiopods, trilobites, corals, and dirt, dust, and more dirt." I lost my boot heel in the mud.

That evening a friend, Tom, asked me to walk with him to the Spanish Inn in Adrian. I had never eaten Mexican food before coming to Adrian. The first time I saw tacos on the lunch tray I had no idea how to eat them. We walked across the College Street bridge talking about college and poetry. He ordered new food for me to try.

With Marti I made friends different from those I met through Gloria. George, Jack, Jim, and Dick and Marti and I had a lot of fun together, eating meals together in the cafeteria and hanging at the Pub. I taught lessons in Sugar Drawing. Basically, you pour the sugar out from the packets onto the table, and run your finger through it to draw. What a waste.
Jack, Marti and me at the Pizza Bucket in Adrian

Lynn, George, and Marti at Estes Hall
One day during lunch the guys threw sugar packets at Marti. When we rose to leave, George quietly picked up all the packets and put them back. I was very impressed and declared forever more the day be celebrated in his honor. Marti still remembers to celebrate George Quay Day. On February 21, 1971, George told me about meeting a girl back home, Nancy Hemmings. She would become his wife.
George
Jack
Jim playing in the student lounge
Like many Adrian students, most weekends Marti went home. I spent a lot of time in the library, reading Greek plays and the poetry of T.S. Eliot. I noted reading Art and Reality by Joyce Cary, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hemingway, The Idiot by Dostoyevsky, Hawaii by Michener, and Beck: A Book by John Updike. I mention seeing the movie Catch 22 on campus. Looking at my grades this year, I should have been studying and not free reading!

I also spent a lot of time at the Pub, drinking coffee and reading. I had the idea that a book would magically attract 'the right sort'. The Pub had barrel chairs and tables, pinball machines, and a jukebox. The soda bar sold light refreshments including the first bagels and cream cheese I had ever seen.

People would sit down at the table with me to talk. One weekend Ed, a 'pinball wizard', sat down with me. He was joined by Chris who had long hair and a maxi coat. Chris invited me to come to his parties at his off-campus pad. Ed shook his head, warning me I would not like it. I was so naive I had no idea that these 'parties' were not like the ones my family held!

Chris was also in my philosophy class. He started calling me and we dated for a while. His friends thought that I was too straight and would pull him away from hosting parties. My friends worried that he would 'corrupt me.'

He took me home to visit and I met his mom. Something in him wanted to be saved, but then he'd try to persuade me to change who I was. He was interesting and different, played piano and guitar and had a faith in God, but I knew he was not right for me. I would not change who I was and he did not want to change either. Later he went out with Lynn and liked her, but she liked another boy.

I am wearing a top from Finland
I wrote that Jack and I went to the spring dance with Jim and George and their dates. It was completely friendly.
I am goofing off, playing Cousin It

I was thrilled when the college literary magazine accepted and published my poem The Remodeled Temple. The poem was inspired by my family trip to Niagara Falls the previous year when I saw the yellow foam from phosphate pollution.
Niagara flows over the jutting escarpment
anciently pushed upwards by monstrous
inward powers generated from below--
a long forgotten strength.
The mist rises like steam from a hot bath,
like rain...falling upwards
in billowing clouds of opaque moisture.
Water tumbles white bubbles at the foot,
and foaming, floating, spreading to the river's boundary,
creeps the current born brown-yellow scum.
Where once nature held a holy and secret temple
to the gods, in the midst of this, their handiwork,
celebrating with glorious roaring its own beauty,
man now divides with concrete
and steel-skeletoned buildings,
and populates the shore continually,
people holding cameras and ticket stubs
and souvenirs and pride ("I was here")
and pollutes the waters with his
competent, advanced, scientific, civilized
waste.
George and I flew kites on campus between Mahon and Dawson Hall. The kites got tangled up and kids stopped by to help, including a seven-year-old boy who made plans to met us the next day for more kite flying in the IM field. Lots of local kids hung around campus.

Jim had been depressed but now wrote that he had found a 'replacement' for me and I was glad. He also asked me to keep writing to him. A few weeks later he called because I had not sent any letters. A guy was waiting for me in the lobby to go see Tora Tora Tora and I did not have time to talk. (That was one boring movie.)

Over spring break I attended my home church, went to Great Scott and saw the Kimball boy I knew who worked there, and discovered that my first crush Mike was back on the block. He was as cute as ever and I was still too shy to talk to him. My brother and his brother became friends. Sam and Marti came to visit me.

A little-known singer, John Denver, performed at the college that spring. His song Leaving on a Jet Plane had been recorded by Peter, Paul, and Mary. Now he was trying to make it singing his own songs. After the concert, several of my People Collecting Club members and I went backstage to give him a smile pin.

Another May trip back home I went to Barney's in the morning and that afternoon saw my grandfather Ramer in the hospital. It must have been when he had his second heart attack. The next day, Sam and Marti and I went to Kensington Nature Park and "untangled fishing line." That evening we went to the Raven Gallery. On the way home, I got pensive and despaired, wondering if I should become a 'freak' since it seemed the all the creative people were. Sam asked Marti if I got that way often.

May 3, 1971, I wrote about man's imperfection and the resulting hypocrisy. "Man desires the love and esteem of his fellow men, but finds his faults only merit their hatred and contempt," I noted Pascal wrote in his Pensees.

I was determined that my "reach exceed my grasp" in trying to be better.

"We try to make ourselves helpful, useful; we try to reach in our bumbling way. We can't always see--if sometimes we're blind, well, what can we say? Admit the fact, try harder. We know we'll never reach perfection. God knows, he made us imperfect, yet we insist on trying our hand at it. No one can please all of the people. No one man can be universally loved, accepted, liked. I must and do take my enemies as inevitable. It makes me sad and guilty and forces me to take another look at myself--detect flaws to be changed. But I am confident that I am on the right track, I have made friends."

In early May when I was in the Pub a boy named Jim sat down with me. I did not care for him; he was a horrible flirt. Really, he had the worse lines ever. He said I'd make a 'good minister's wife,' which was the last thing on my mind. Then he was joined by a boy who had his head in a music score, waving his hands in the air. Gary was in conducting class and was just given the music he was to conduct for his final. I perked up, for it was rare to meet someone who liked classical music.

Jim and Gary went to Ohio that weekend to investigate a seminary. On Monday I had a sore throat and went to the school doctor; he said I had strep throat and perhaps mono. I was on painkillers and was unable to sing in the spring concert. It didn't keep me bedridden. I was at the Pub and hanging out. On Wednesday a bunch of us 'went raving' in Gary's VW, driving down the dark country roads.

Gary and I were getting to know each other. One of Gary's friends, Gwen, asked how I felt about him. I liked him. Elaine thought she should have met Gary first because she thought they were better suited for each other! Since Gary and Tim were both in Phi Mu Alpha it is surprising they had not met already.

Over Memorial Day weekend Gary took me to his home. His family made their annual trip to the cemetery and I waited while they cleared the grave sites and left flowers. His mom had packed baloney and butter sandwiches to eat for lunch. I hated butter on sandwiches. Apparently, our families had one thing in common: they believed in taking their kids' friends to the cemetery!

One Saturday night I woke up, hearing voices. Several drunk boys were outside my dorm window, trying to climb up to see a girl on the second floor. Usually, a girl would prop open the side door so a boy could sneak in!

Two ATO frats were killed in a drunk driving accident on May 22.

Sam and Marti broke up, then reunited. Elaine and Tim broke up. She had met a boy while visiting home.

Gary was taking summer school classes because he couldn't get work at GM for the summer. That meant he would graduate a semester early. I was going home for the summer. As we got to know each other over those two weeks I forgot about all those other boys. Gary seemed about perfect.

School ended and I returned home. I visited old friends. My family went to my Uncle Dave's home for dinner. We had ice cream at Howard Johnsons. I visited the McNab family.

I missed Gary. Then on June 1, there was a knock on the door and a VW parked out front. Gary had stopped by on his way from Grand Blanc to Ohio. He would stop by again on his way back. Mom liked him. When he returned, Sam and Marti and Gary and I went to the Detroit Zoo.

Over summer Gary would spend many weekends at my home.








Friday, May 19, 2017

A Q & A with Sarah Shoemaker, author of Mr Rochester

On May 15 The Berkley Public Library and local bookstore Book Beat sponsored a Q and A with Michigan author Sarah Shoemaker whose first book Mr. Rochester went on sale this week.

I was thrilled to chat with Sarah before the program. I learned she was a United Brethren pastor's daughter who was lucky to spend 15 years in one parish.

Sarah began by introducing herself, talking about her career and lifelong interest in writing, and how the book came to be written.

A lifelong writer with a stack of unpublished manuscripts, when her son went to college Sarah returned to school to become a librarian. After she and her husband left Metro-Detroit for Up North she became involved with the local book club. Their choice of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte led to a discussion weighing why Jane would love the gruff, angry Mr. Rochester. A remark that someone should tell his story got Sarah thinking. On the drive home, she decided she would be the one to discover Mr. Rochester's story.

She began by reading period books, then started in writing, continuing her research to understand the 19th c writing style and the background history for her story. She was thankful for the Michigan Electronic Library for obtaining the 50 or so books she needed for her work, including an 1836 volume held together by a rubber band and a rare narrative, Marley, about running a Jamaican plantation.

It took two years of writing and one year of rewriting before Sarah's manuscript was handed over to her agent. The agent met with Grand Central Publishing whose new editor was hired to expand their brand into literary fiction. And the book was sold!

Sarah's editor was precise and demanding, resulting in a flurry of rewriting. In a year the book was ready for market.

When asked about cover ideas, Sarah imagined an English landscape painting with a silhouette of Rochester, back turned, as if surveying the scene. When she saw the cover of a man's silhouette revealing a Jamaican landscape painting it was not what she expected. After reviewing English landscapes, she decided that the cover was, after all, the best choice. The audience agreed it is a great cover.

Another interesting tidbit about the cover is the typeface font and style imitates the first published edition of Jane Eyre, down to the periods.
title page of Jane Eyre, 1847 edition
Sarah explained that 19th c books were not bound with covers as bookbinding was a separate industry from printing. People paid to have a book bound for their permanent library, often in a matching style.

I had detected a Dickensian feel to Mr. Rochester's boyhood story. Sarah told the audience that Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens was a source for understanding the experience of Rochester's education, but she wanted a positive experience for her hero. The friends he made at school offered him the love and acceptance he lacked from his father and brother.

Sarah carefully considered how to keep Rochester true to his own character, and I thought did a great job.

When asked what was Rochester's pivotal life event, Sarah considered and determined that it was his Jamaican experience. Married to the mad Bertha altered his entire life, and even brought him to be the tortured resident of Thornfield Hall who is saved by the love of Jane Eyre.

Another member of the audience questioned Rochester's lack of class consciousness. At one point while an apprentice he tries to befriend a factory worker and is repelled. Sarah noted that in the 19th c, as too often is the case today, those in positions of power often used it for sexual favors. Rochester had to learn to respect class lines. Consequently, Sarah imagined he was careful in his situation as Jane's employer so as not to be seen as abusing his power over her.

Sarah read the opening paragraphs of her book, told first person in Rochester's voice. He tells he was raised by a "succession of nursemaids and governesses, who were sometimes bad and other times worse. It was years before I could think of a governess as anyone other than a presence that must be borne." And for those readers 'in the know' we understand the irony of this statement.

Read my review on Mr. Rochester at https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2017/05/mr-rochester-by-sarah-shoemaker.html

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Reimagined Greek Tragedy: House of Names by Colm Toibin

In House of Names, Colm Toibin, author of Brooklyn and Nora Webster, retells the ancient Greek story of one of the most brutal and murderous families ever imagined. Blood is paid with blood: a wife murders her husband, a parent sacrifices his daughter, children murder their parents.

Tobin's his beautiful, clear writing allows four central characters to speak for themselves.

Clytemnestra was claimed by hero Agamemnon when he slew her husband. She has born him daughters Iphigenia and Electra and son Orestes.

Agamemnon's brother's wife Helen has been kidnapped. They plan to attack the Trojans and bring her back. But the gods have prevented them from setting sail. Agamemnon asks Clytemnestra prepare Iphigenia for marriage; in reality, he sacrifices her to the gods, an expiation for his sin, so the soldiers at last may go to war.

Betrayed by Agamemnon, Clytemnestra and plots her revenge with help from Aegisthus. When Agamemnon returns with war trophy Cassandra, his wife welcomes him home, then slits his throat. She has arranged to have Orestes and other boys taken to 'safety.'

Orestes relates his story of exile and return only to learn his mother had murdered his father.

Electra learns her mother murdered her father and plots her revenge. Upon her brother's return, she instructs him to commit matricide.

Leander, who was Orestes friend in exile, has discovered Clytemnestra murdered his entire family, and he raises an army.

The novel has wonderful characterization. I was compelled to continue reading. But I was left wondering, why? Why bring this story, now, to a new generation? What can we learn?

Obviously, it is a revenge story, on the human level and on behalf of the gods. Agamemnon is part of the cursed House of Atreus. Here is how it started:

Zeus' son Tantalus murdered his own son Pelops to feed to the gods. The gods arranged to have Pelops brought back to life. Later Pelops and his house were cursed by a son of Hermes.

Pelops' children Atreus and Thyestes killed a half-brother and were banished. Atreus discovered that Thyestes was having an affair with his wife, so he murdered Thyestes's sons and dished them up in a stew to their father.

Atreus's children included Agamemnon  and Menelaus. Thyestes also had a son with his daughter, Aegisthus, and that son killed Atreus.

Agamemnon kills his daughter, his wife kills him, and their son, encouraged by their daughter, kills his mother.

You see a pattern here? Once you start murdering there is no end. One may see the story as a metaphor with unlimited applications.

I received a free ebook from the pubisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

House of Names
Colm Toibin
Scribner
Publication May 18, 2017