The Comfort of Clear Answers

             Is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn about a young girl? Or is it about New York at the turn of the last century? Perhaps it is about the imperative of education…

            Francie Nolan, poor, from an Irish family, and with an alcoholic father, grows up in Williamsburg. The story, told from the classic third-person omniscient point of view, incorporates layers of tale telling so effective that, at one point, 14-year-old Francie imagines herself a successful novelist giving her former English composition teacher her autograph. In reality, said teacher has chastised Francie for writing about harsh realities, instead of “birds and trees and My Impressions.” Meanwhile, Francie, has just lost her father, her mother is pregnant, and there is barely enough money to buy groceries. Why would she be writing about birds and trees? In her fantasy, she gets her revenge by coming back to visit the teacher at school after her first novel has been published. She imagines the dialogue in her head. 

Francie

“Oh, the novel. I dashed it off at odd moments.”

Miss Gardner

(Timidly.)

“Frances, could I ask you to autograph it for me?”

            Because Francie, and her brother Neeley, have been told by their grandmother and mother that education is the only way out of their predicament and because their mother, Katie, never gives up hope (working harder than anyone could possibly imagine) A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is the ultimate American story. Yet, I can’t help wondering, what Francie and Katie would make of the next turn of the century, with its technology revolution and its gig economy, where very little is guaranteed, and the answers are not nearly as clear?

 

 

 

Mid Year, New Books

Summer is almost here and the beach is calling. I am happy to report that I am making my way through my new year’s book list.

Fashion Climbing — Bill Cunningham. I started with this outlandish memoir and could not be more thankful for Cunningham’s injection of creativity into 2019. 1950s hat maker extraordinaire, Cunningham had a gift few possess: he knew who he was from a young age. To say he was daring doesn’t do him justice; he was loyal to his imagination and he never gave up. Fashion Climbing is also a love letter to a long gone New York, where you could barter cleaning services for a floor of a brownstone in the 50s. Nothing matches the scene where Cunningham, preparing for a hat showing and running out of space, hangs furniture from clothesline out the back window.

Becoming — Michelle Obama. There are no words to describe the power of this book. It should, simply put, be required reading for everyone. Obama, in a natural voice that makes you feel she is in the room, tells her story with honesty and humor. Unlike Cunningham, Obama did things the way they were supposed to be done; she worked hard as a student, went to college, then law school. One day, she realized she was a “box checker” and, having ticked off each one on her list, did not like practicing law. Now what? This is where the journey becomes the ultimate challenge, because Obama has to find out who she really is, and, not surprisingly, there is no box to check off in this category.

Yorkville Twins — Joseph and John Gindele. This marvelous memoir is a testament to the power of self publishing. The Gindeles grew up in the tenements of Yorkville, my childhood home, and decided to listen to friends and relatives who insisted they write a book. I found it by accident, while doing research on my Yorkville novella. It could not be more delightful, filled with stories of a vibrant ethnic enclave that is no more.

Huckleberry Here I Come…

On a dull and grey Sunday I finished True Grit, a novel so alive with dialogue and storytelling bravado that I was left somewhat stunned.

I cannot remember a time that I read a work of fiction that made me forget I was reading; I thought fearless 14-year-old Mattie was sitting with me, recounting her adventures with Marshall Rooster Cogburn and the Texas Ranger LaBoeuf.  For sheer genius, there is nothing like the six pages of dialogue between Mattie and cotton trader Colonel G. Stonehill, whom Mattie implores to buy back the horses he sold her now dead father.

A delightful afterword by Donna Tartt, recounts her True Grit family history, hoarding copies of the novel, and compares the narrative style to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, a work I have not read in so long I must now reacquaint myself.

Perfect project for a rainy Sunday…