Recent Reviews
The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken
In August 2019, ten months after her mother died, the author Elizabeth McCracken returned to London, a city she and her mother had visited many times. While there, McCracken grieves her mother’s death and begins to write The Hero of this Book. Some readers debate whether the book is a memoir, not fiction. But that deliberation distracts. Though I wish the book had tried to dig deeper into her mother’s interior life, the book is a beautiful homage to the humorous, brilliant, gritty, stubborn force of nature that was McCracken’s mother.
Born in 1935, McCracken’s mother embodied erudition. She quickly received her bachelor’s, master’s and doctorate degrees. After various compelling jobs, including directing plays in New York, she landed an academic position at Boston University, where she worked for 40 years. McCracken describes her mom, “My mother was less than 5 feet tall, walked with canes during my childhood, had tarnished black hair she wore in a bun, was talkative, had black eyebrows even when her hair had gone mostly white and was olive skinned. She was a Jewish girl of Eastern European descent born in a small town near Des Moines, Iowa, the older of twin girls.”
Like a long eulogy, the author recounts anecdote after anecdote about her mother, hoping that the cumulation of these tender and humorous stories will reveal her mother’s essence. Her observations are reverent and irreverent, complementary and critical. McCracken believes that her mother’s determination to keep moving despite her limited mobility was central to her mother’s core. The canes and scooters were visible, but her mother did not share her feelings. Her mother quipped, “What good was understanding your own mind if you jammed it in the process?” However, because McCracken is a gifted writer, astute observer and devoted daughter, she describes and depicts her complicated and charismatic mother in detail.
The Hero of this Book is a poignant, provocative and humorous book. But mostly, it is a daughter’s loving tribute to her mother. 4/5
The Altar of the Dead by Henry James
Recently, a friend recommended Henry James’ short story, ‘The Altar of the Dead.’ Once I began, I was riveted. James knows his way around the tunnels and labyrinths of the human psyche. And his skill at translating these insights into the written word is stunning. In under 50 pages, he illuminates the raw and complicated emotions dwelling inside his characters.
Written in 1895, the story opens in London. The mood is melancholy, the setting dark and the protagonist’s character pensive. George Stransom’s wife-to-be Mary had died many Decembers past. Their wedding day never happened. George is haunted by her loss and the fervent desire to keep her alive in his memory. In a moment of inspiration, George conceives of an altar lighted with perpetual candles for Mary and his other friends who have passed. As a balm for his soul, he assigns an altar candle to each friend who had died. “He had perhaps not had more losses than most men, but he had counted his losses more; he hadn’t seen death more closely but had in a manner felt it more deeply. This suited his inclination, it satisfied his spirit, it gave employment to his piety.”
One day, he notices the presence of a woman at his altar who appears to be in mourning. They eventually speak and their intricate story unfolds. The story’s suspense derives more from the internal turmoil experienced by George and this woman more than any external event.
Though this book is about the rituals of remembering the dead, this story reveals how people navigate the steep hills of forgiveness and redemption among the living. “The Altar of the Dead’ is writing at its best. 5/5
THE POSTCARD by ANNE BEREST
I have read dozens of books about the Holocaust and WWII. Meticulously researched and deeply profound, ‘The Postcard’ is among the best. Anne Berest has written an autobiographical novel that details the emotional wounds and persistent pain of Holocaust survivors and their progeny. The story describes how France’s Vichy government, in collaboration with the Nazis, sent tens of thousands of French Jews to die in concentration camps, including the author’s great-grandparents. The book also explores religious identity, family secrets, persistent silence, intergenerational trauma, and the healing power of stories.
In 2003, the narrator’s mother, Léila, receives a postcard in her Paris home. On the front is a photo of the Opéra Garnier. Four names are written on the back: Ephraïm, Emma, Noémie and Jacques. These are the names of Léila’s grandparents and two of their three children. They all died in the crematoriums of Auschwitz in 1942. The sole survivor was Noémie and Jacques’ older sister, Myriam. Myriam is now deceased and shared almost nothing with her daughter Léila about her wartime torment.
When this faded postcard arrived in 2003, Anne Berest was in her twenties and not interested in determining the postcard’s sender. Fifteen years later and now a mother, Anne and her mother Léila decide to investigate. Who sent this postcard? And why now, 58 years after WWII’s end? Due to their forensic level of research and professional help, Anne and her mother, Léila, discover letters, forms, applications, diaries, names, addresses, and logs from government entities, allowing them to learn the story of their family’s deportation from France to Auschwitz. Meanwhile, their search for the sender of the postcard continues.
This novel explores intergenerational trauma. Myriam did not speak of her murdered parents and siblings. This does not appear to have been a conscious decision but rather a survival mechanism. Anne says of her grandmother, “I think she kept silent out of guilt for being alive.” And though Myriam did not share any details, Anne and her mother, Léila, discover the dates, places and people involved in Myriam’s escape from the unfathomable terror of that time.
As a child, Anne Berest was conscious of not tripping on the invisible barbed wire when people spoke of the war. So much about her family’s prior lives was unspoken. And yet, despite missing the mayhem and murder, Léila and Anne experienced their own fear and anxiety for all that was unspoken and unknown. Research now shows that trauma can be transmitted cellularly in the womb. Berest quotes Alejandro Jodorowsky: “There are, in the genealogical tree, traumatized, unprocessed places that are eternally seeking relief. From these places, arrows are launched toward future generations. Anything that has not been resolved must be repeated and will affect someone else, a target located one or more generations in the future.”
Anne Berest’s superb storytelling makes the book compelling. She writes with passion, love and curiosity about her family. Not only is the mystery of the postcard solved, but she also uncovers in granular detail what happened to her great-grandparents, aunt, uncle and grandmother during the war. Knowledge of her family’s past makes her present life and the lives of her mother and grandmother more understandable. Berest’s references to intergenerational trauma are intriguing and thought-provoking. ‘The Postcard’ shows us how a seemingly civilized society allowed the murder of their fellow citizens. Antisemitism is still rampant. And books like ‘The Postcard’ show us what can happen if bigotry is not contained. I highly recommend this book. 5/5
