November 24, 2009

 Going home for the holidays just isn’t fun for some people.  First of all you have to reunite with your dysfunctional family and America is full of them.  Whatever the weird family dynamics were that you disliked as a child, your older brother playing knock knock on your head– are even worse now that you have less hair and a PhD and you just don’t deserve that. 

 Huffington Post has kindly put together a list of books to read while you are at home with your dysfunctional family and as it turns out most of them have been given to me as gifts!  What thoughtful friends I have!  Glass Castle is on the list and Running with Scissors and both Liar, Liar, and Lit by Mary Karr.  That woman, in spite of her good education has certainly suffered at least in the books. My personal favorite two books on dysfunctional families are King Lear and the best of all, Long Day’s Journey into Night which I read over and over to understand how stories build and fall apart and build to astonishing climaxes of foghorns and mysteries and silence.  And that is the saddest part of the dysfunctional family, the long silences.  So, here’s the Huffington list for those of you going home to weird families, make the best of it.  Remember, sneaking off to read a book makes you smarter, cooler and better able to cope with the whole situation and here’s the good thing, you’re a grownup, you can go home!  Have a good one.

 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/11/20/11-dysfunctional-family-m_n_365232.html

In the factory we make cosmetics; in the drugstore we sell hope. Charles Revson

In advertising we’re hired to make promises.  To fill a void in people lives. If you buy XYZ, you’ll be smarter/faster/envied/ thinner/ better/ happier/prettier/whatever.  And so it goes with the ads we see for Thanksgiving…happy families together, sitting at a beautifully decorated table, the perfect turkey. LOOK! Buy THIS Turkey and your family/life/house will be just like this.

The reality is: You’re with your clan, most of whom have traded their booze and brains for a bible and Glenn Beck. A mother who fills every space with incessant chatter, Uncle “Pull my Finger” Paul, neurotic Aunt Opal, Grandmother who can’t hear and host of cousins who wear too much flannel. (You start frantically searching for the adoption papers because you’re certain these are not your people.) UGH.

I’ve always wondered what would happen if a company got REAL with its message for once and said what most of us are thinking. Maybe Southwest Airlines could offer the DFD: a Dysfunctional Family Discount. Wanna getaway? YES!

But advertising is about hope, isn’t it?  Maybe this year will be different. So if you’re fortunate enough to celebrate the holiday with a family who is least tolerable, then enjoy your feast and count your blessings. And the turkey? Here’s how to ensure a perfect result:

“Comrade teacher, how many kids did you brainwash with your communist crap before allowing those salvation charlatans to throughly soak you?”

Sometimes I come across a film that is a complete surprise, and the 2006 Czech film, Beauty in Trouble (Kraska v Nesnazich) falls into that category. When the film arrived from Netflix, I couldn’t recall exactly why I’d added it to my queue. Anyway, with a rating of three stars, I didn’t expect much, so I was really surprised to find myself enjoying this story of two dysfunctional families and the intervention of a wealthy good Samaritan who has more on his mind than just being charitable.

The story is set mainly in Prague after the devastating 2002 flood, but there  are also a few contrasting scenes in sunny Tuscany. The film’s ‘beauty’ is Marcela (Anna Geislererova)–a woman somewhere in her thirties who dresses like a 13-year-old about to go to the disco for the first time. Marcela is married to Jarda (Roman Luknar), and they have two children–a girl on the brink of adolescence and a young boy who suffers from asthma. Since the family didn’t have flood insurance, they are struggling to make ends meet while still living in a house damaged by the flood. Jarda has taken to a life of crime, and he and his mates have established an ad-hoc chop shop in the garage. Stolen cars arrive, then Jarda creatively re-arranges them, and the family live on the proceedings. Meanwhile Jarda locks up his religious nutcase mother Libuse (Emilia Vasaryova) as he works so that he doesn’t have to listen to her sermons. Marcela isn’t thrilled about Jarda’s life of crime either, and she’s sure that he’ll eventually be caught, but Marcela’s complaints are silenced by noisy sex–the one thing that Marcela and Jarda seem to have going for their relationship.

One day, Marcela packs up the children and moves in with her mother Zdena (Jana Brejchova) and her mother’s peculiar boyfriend, the cadaverous ‘Uncle’ Richard (Jiri Schmitzer), so soon there are five people squashed in a flat meant for two. A sense of the absurd descends on the film at this point–there’s Marcela holed up with her children while her mother-in-law sleeps in the car outside, doggedly determined to persuade Marcela to return home. But the flat is hardly a refuge, and Richard vacillates between pointedly groping Zdena in front of everyone and lording it over the visitors when Zdena is absent.

But Marcela’s problems snowball when Jarda’s life of crime comes crashing to a halt after he’s caught for the theft of an expensive car. The stolen, computerized Volvo belongs to Evzen (Josef Abrham), a wealthy middle-aged man who lives in Italy but is in Prague to sell a house he’s just inherited. As fate would have it, Evzen is waiting at the police station when Marcela arrives. In this clever scene, both Evzen and Marcela seem to be invisible to each other for just a few moments, and then Marcela begins some rather obvious stretching exercises, shoving up her boobs even further out of her push up bra, and bending over to reveal one of her sexy tattoos. These simple actions grab Evzen’s attention (as they were intended to), and before long, he’s wining and dining Marcela, offering her money and allowing her to live in the house he’s just inherited.

Evzen seems to be a very nice man. He’s kind and generous, and that generosity extends to Marcela and her children. Evzen is everything that Jarda isn’t–he’s refined, gentlemanly and more importantly, he’s loaded. It looks as though Marcela may have hit the big time, and while Marcela’s slightly deranged mother isn’t thrilled by the relationship, her mother’s boyfriend, can’t believe Marcela’s luck. In one great scene, Evzen takes Marcela and her family to a posh restaurant, and the meeting throws the characters and their main concerns into the spotlight. While Evzen’s age appalls Marcela’s mother, Richard is practically rubbing his hands with glee at the prospect of cashing in on Marcela’s good fortune, and he chalks up the disparity in Marcela and Evzen’s age to something he’s read about:  ‘they call it fuck buddies.’

Beauty in Trouble is a character-driven drama, and so most of the film’s strength comes from the collision of these strongly-drawn, disparate characters, their contrasted values, and their poisonous relationships. In spite of his urbanity, Evzen, at first, seems a little naive, insulated by his wealth and privilege from the desperate lives that the Marcela and her family lead. He’s lived in Italy since 1967 and even carts around a copy of Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being which he is reading in Italian. Not only does this subtle prop indicate Evzen’s divorcement from Czech society, but there’s also a hint that he’s reading the book to ‘bone up’ on Czech culture for his trip.

Richard is around the same age as Evzen, but they are complete, and startling opposites. Whereas Evzen generously basks in the safety and glow of impeccable grooming, wealth, and good food, Richard ’s unattractive bitterness seems to coalesce around hanging on to the very little he has–hence one of the bitterest scenes occurs over a package of diabetic biscuits, and the message is that these precious biscuits cannot be easily replaced when they are gobbled down by Marcela’s children. When Richard first appears, he  makes a few remarks that are more than a little inappropriate to Marcela’s daughter, but at this point it’s not certain if he’s just eccentric. As the story plays out, however, Richard’s behaviour is a major impetus for Marcela’s life and the choices she makes. He dominates the screen, and in one great scene after another, he spews forth bitter diatribes. Lording it over everyone who makes the mistake of visiting his tiny apartment, those caught in his crosshairs get his lectures and his views on life whether they want to listen or not.  To Richard, Czechoslovakia is over–ruined by communism and now the new belief system–religion, and anyone with any brains will get out while they can.

But apart from the tale of Marcela’s choices (which are influenced by her bitter circumstances), the plot also carries a sly undercurrent–a morality tale if you will concerning the nature of charity. Evzen’s motives towards Marcela are never ‘pure’, but the money he passes to her boomerangs back via Libuse and her corrupt, manipulative preacher. Makes me think of the Marquis de Sade’s maxim: No good deed goes unpunished.

From director Jan Hrebejk.

Ever since I saw the film “The World According to Garp” at age eleven I have wondered to myself what exactly did John Irving survive in his past?  I have waited patiently for nearly thirty years to find out.  I haven’t ever read a single thing about John Irving’s personal life; because figuring out exactly what happened to him to make him the type of writer he is has been a huge puzzle for me that I must figure out on my own.  Being a survivor of a horrific childhood myself, I knew Mr. Irving must have suffered even more than I had, as his stories are so twisted and dark.

With “Last Night in Twisted River: A Novel” I think I have finally figured out the puzzle of Mr. Irving.  While “A Prayer for Owen Meany” will always remain my favorite book of his, Twisted River is a close second. For whatever reason, I’ve convinced myself that this book is the true story of his life, or the true life story of someone very close to him, perhaps his own grandfather.  If it isn’t, then call me a fool, but please realize that whether this novel is a memoir or not, “Last Night in Twisted River” remains a brilliant story of father and son and grandson, and the fifty year long friendship they have with a mysterious logger.  Danny Angel, the protagonist of Twisted River is a writer in this novel and his own writing career mirrors the career of John Irving, and we read about Danny attending the Iowa Writers Workshop during the same time frame as Mr. Irving actually did.  Danny was even taught by John’s own most famous teacher Kurt Vonnegut.  I have always wondered why Mr. Irving writes about the subjects he has always written about, such as widows, Canada, wrestling, motherless and fatherless children, left hands, bears, and even abortion and all of these subjects get a curious mention in his latest book. 

Twisted River is the kind of Charles Dickensesque type of story Mr. Irving has written before, and this time around he manages to capture the small New Hampshire logging town of Twisted River beautifully, beginning with the drowning of a young boy named Angel and the failure of the mysterious Mr. Ketcham to catch him before he was lost under the logs forever.  Dominic and his son Daniel (Danny Angel) are friends with the logger Mr. Ketcham, and certain terrible events cause them to go on the run together over and over again throughout their lives leaving loved ones and good Italian restaurants behind.  What I find most fascinating about this book is that Daniel grows up to be a famous writer and has a long successful career before he settles down to write Twisted River, the very novel we as readers have been reading the entire time.     

Last Night in Twisted River: A Novel is defiantly the best book I’ve read in 2009.  I stayed up until 5:15 am to finish it.  I’ve spent more than evening staying up all night reading this book, as well as many other of Mr. Irving’s books.  I once worked an eight hour shift, drove a twelve hour road trip, visited and drank with a friend all night long, then sat down and finished The Hotel New Hampshire in one sitting after all of this and finished in time for my friend to catch me still awake after having one of the longest thirty days in my life.  John Irving is just that good of a writer.  All I can tell you is that Twisted River is fabulous and you need to go buy this book immediately to find out for yourself just how good it truly is. I promise you will be lost in a world like none other.  If you have already purchased it for yourself, then go buy it for a friend, because books make the best Christmas gifts.  A story like this stays with someone forever, while that sweater may only last two or three seasons.

John Irving’s Work

• Setting Free the Bears – 1968
• The Water-Method Man – 1972
• The 158-Pound Marriage – 1974
• The World According to Garp – 1978
• The Hotel New Hampshire – 1981
• The Cider House Rules – 1985
• A Prayer for Owen Meany – 1989
• Trying to Save Piggy Sneed - 1993
• A Son of the Circus – 1994
• The Imaginary Girlfriend - 1996  
• A Widow for One Year – 1998
• My Movie Business - 1999
• The Cider House Rules: A Screenplay – 1999 (Academy-Award winning screenplay)
• The Fourth Hand – 2001
• A Sound Like Someone Trying Not to Make a Sound – 2004
• Until I Find You – 2005
• Last Night in Twisted River – 2009

John Irving’s website can be found here.   

You can purchase Twisted River here. 

And see John talk about his latest book below.

In these troubled economic times, stories about families working to put their lives back together are even more poignant than usual.

While I was a social worker, I often encountered and, in fact, worked to assist families struggling with addiction issues.  Finding treatment and then maintaining that hard-won sobriety in a supportive environment was often a key to success.

Spirit of Woman  is an organization/treatment center in Fresno, CA, that has been addressing these issues for many years.  In today’s Fresno Bee, there is an article on the front page of the Life section that spotlights this particular program.

Apparently, an old hotel has been renovated and serves as a home for rehabilitating women who have recently been reunited with their children.  The women learn to live “sober,” while caring for their children and completing necessary tasks to help maintain the home.  They attend classes and therapy throughout the day.

In the article, the founder/chief-executive-officer is seeking donations to help improve the rooms.  A pleasant environment, which is a key factor in promoting a chaos-free life, is necessary.  While the rooms now are clean and neat, they are showing the wear of age.

Now some may say that these women should be happy just to have a place to stay—and that’s certainly true—but we all know that our environments are crucial to our inner well-being.  Our surroundings do not have to be expensive in order to achieve this feeling.

Personally, whenever I am depressed or feeling frustrated with things going on in my life, I look around my home and take comfort in the few beautiful objects that seemingly encircle me with warmth and comfort.

Studies have shown that people even respond positively to certain colors.  Some colors evoke peace, while others stir up more negative emotions.

All of this is directed toward eliciting compassion from each of us for those less fortunate…those who are struggling—with the consequences of their own poor choices, certainly—but who still deserve our empathy and any strength we can offer.

If you wish to reach out during this season, I am sure that there is a place in your community, just like this one in mine, that could beneft from your used and no longer needed items.

During this upcoming holiday season, my vow is to turn away from my own feelings of self-pity (for the tough economic times, etc.) and look around at those less fortunate.  I am sure to find many!

To commemorate my first blog and the first novel I completed (Miles to Go), I am dedicating this post to the beginning of my creative explorations.

Today I designed a new blog header for my Creations blog, and therefore, created a new blog button which you see here.

Miles to Go tells a tale of sisterhood, the resurgence of feminism (as led by such iconic figures as Gloria Steinem and Betty Freidan), and the beginning of the consciousness-raising movement.

As a young woman during those times, I was honored to hear Ms. Steinem speak at my university in the year 1971, just prior to the launching of Ms. Magazine.

It was thrilling and a little frightening to be present during those exciting early moments in the modern-day feminist movement. 

Over at a blog I visit, Layers of Thought, Shellie has posted about the Women Unbound challenge.

If you click on the link, you can find out the details of this challenge, which runs from November 1, 2009 to November 30, 2010.

If you are interested in women’s issues, I think you might find this an exciting venture, and it involves reading books that will open your eyes and your mind.

My family is somewhat dysfunctional. Really, whose family isn’t? I know this isn’t an exception, most families have problems.

My grandparents harbor bitterness and resentment toward their parents. My parents harbor resentment and bitterness toward their parents, my grandparents. Consequently, this cycle translated to the children, my brothers and sisters, harbor bitterness and resentment toward my parents. This bitterness and resentment, after a while, causes the parents not to get along with the children, either, because the children lashed out and hurt their parents back.

I am determined to break the cycle and not let bitterness and resentment keep me from a right relationship with my parents. Sure, there were some pretty messed up things that happened while I was growing up, that hurt me deeply, but I chose to forgive them and live in the present, not the past. This healing didn’t happen over night, and didn’t happen as soon as I became an adult. This bitterness finally melted away about a year ago. 

Learning to break the cycle is liberating. Sure, my parents still make mistakes, but so do I, and by forgiving them, I am forgiven. (see Matthew 18:23-35 and Matthew 6:9-13).

It is absolutely heartbreaking to see all the bitterness and resentment between family members and not have them see what freedom waits for them if they’d just let go of it. If they just talked to each other, truthfully, and didn’t let the bitterness and resentment cloud their minds, they would see that their parent/child is a wonderful person, in spite of the past mistakes.

It wasn’t easy to forgive my parents. I wanted them to pay for all the hurt they caused. I had to learn to forgive them before healing in our relationship could begin. When I tried to talk to my parents about the ways they hurt me, before I forgave them, I just ended up more hurt. When I forgave them, I stopped bringing up the past.

Surprisingly, after forgiving them and letting the past go, I learned that my parents were really sorry for the ways they hurt me. They never brought up the things that hurt me because they hoped that I forgot or that it didn’t hurt me.

I talked to my brothers and sisters about forgiving our parents. I talk to my parents about forgiving their parents. So far it doesn’t seem like they’ve made the decision to forgive and live.

Lord, please bring healing to my parents’ hearts from the messed up things their parents did to them. Please bring healing to my brothers’ and sisters’ hearts from the messed up things our parents did to us. Please break the cycle of bitterness and resentment.

When I see an image like this one, I am transported to days gone by.

Home, family, holidays, Thanksgiving—all of these spring to mind.

For the characters in Miles to Go, the memories conjured are not necessarily pleasant ones.

Lindsay Malone has created her own family, one that includes her children and friends, but she cannot help but also think of her family of origin.  And wish that things had been different.

We all long for that family closeness depicted in the media, but more often than not, our experiences fall short.

Is that because our expectations are colored by what we see around us?  Do we fantasize about things that can’t exist in the real world?

Looking back on my life, I contemplate these issues and have concluded that, with perspective, we can reframe almost anything so that the painful memories can seem less traumatic; we can even bring some empathy and understanding to these events if we look at it all with the eyes of wisdom and distance.

We can choose happiness.  We can recreate families in the here-and-now and create lives that are filled with joy and hope.

In this excerpt, a woman with secrets from her past tries to find contentment in the present.

Denise Richardson gazed around at the messy sitting room.  Articles of clothing were draped across every available surface while dirty plates,bowls and glasses rimmed the coffee table and side tables, vividly announcing the recent flurry of activity.  And while untidy rooms were not something new and unusual, today’s detritus suggested even more happy chaos than usual.

In the midst of these poignant reminders of a life brimming with activity, Denise reluctantly gave in to the feeling of well being that threatened to overcome her.  And following the acknowledgement of the positive feelings came the recognition that she was afraid of feeling this good!  All of her life she had gradually come to an uneasy peace with the familiar feelings of depression, anxiety, and fear.  Even guilt.  But contentment…Now that was a feeling so rare in her life that she felt suspicious when it hovered nearby.  Feelings like contentment and well being could so easily escape without warning; their presence among the familiar negative emotions only enhanced the ever-present anxiety.

Denise laughed out loud.  Afraid to be happy, so she sabotaged herself with the familiar fears and worries.  There was no shortage of triggers for those emotions.  All she had to do was look inside to find something to elicit all the doubts and anxieties.

In this excerpt from Chasing Stardust, Merrilee mulls over the stresses of single parenthood.

On a Saturday morning in early July, Merrilee sat reading the paper and sipping coffee.

She glanced outdoors occasionally, trying to picture the gardens without those nasty weeds.

She’d certainly been neglecting the yard lately.  Sighing, she wished for the umpteenth time that she could hire a gardener to bring everything all together.  She missed that brief time in her life when money hadn’t been an object.  But she’d blown that, hadn’t she?
Of course, she could try to get Colin to do some of it.  Ha!

What was wrong with her, anyway?  If she took his car keys until he did a few chores, she’d be well within her rights.  And she should do just that.  But she feared the consequences of setting such limits on her son.  His stormy moods and rages literally shook the rafters at times.  Since he’d been this way since he was very small, she couldn’t exactly start blaming booze or drugs for his behavior.  But she was sure those substances didn’t help.

He hadn’t actually been in trouble with the law for awhile.  That was good news.

Well…There had been that one time a few months ago, right after he and Carly had first begun…The cops had taken the two kids downtown for curfew violations.  But no drugs were on them.  And the two hadn’t even been drunk.  They must have been really lucky that night, she’d decided.  She was sure that they did drugs and drank most of the time they were together.

But in some ways, his obsession with Carly had turned him away from other negative activities.

Not that she was really grateful, though.  There was no way that anything good could ever come of this relationship.  She lived in dread for the day when Colin announced that the girl was pregnant.

I’ve fallen under the God-spell again. Yes, I succumbed in the name of healing my spirit to the community of Christians who offered a supportive environment for divorce. Increasingly, however, I have found that although I’ve felt relief at not having to resist the pull of old habits, I have become more narrow minded and more disgusted with things because of the mindset that surrounds the “one” God of the triumvirate of “only true” religions: Christianity, Islam, Judaism. I’ve become also less patient with myself and more critical of everything I do. For self reflection that can be a good thing, but in this case it was quickly becoming scrupulosity again. The pull back was comforting, but again reminded me that when we grow in a new direction, going back is like putting on a too small suit of clothes. We wish it would fit, but we look ridiculous in it. Our abundance can no longer be stuffed into the confines of something so small.

Last night I had a dream that some man was sitting in the chair I had previously occupied. I called him on it and told him to get out of it. He said no belligerently. What ensued was an argument that escalated into a fight and I woke up just as he was putting his hands around my neck. This morning I drew some Tarot cards from the Dance of Life deck. I drew the Guide (reversed), Patriarch (reversed) and Demon/Lover of Self. This deck uses Gestalt and psychotherapy as a basis for card design and interpretation so the suits are unique and the Major Arcana are unique as well. However the Guide is the equivalent of the Magician in traditional tarot and indicates someone well versed in her own spiritual “tools.” A reversed card indicates repression of something, either willingly or unwillingly. I took this reading to mean, as did my dream, that my inner Patriarch was reasserting itself and trying to kill off the natural wisdom I’ve come to trust over the years. Everything I’ve ever learned about my intuition and following my inner guide had been subverted by again trying to follow “the rules” set out by organized religion. I wanted to purge myself of it once again, but have fallen asleep on the job. I didn’t guard my position of authority. My polarized opposites were again in opposition, not peaceful co-existence. Therefore, I need to re-integrate them once again; bring them into balance so that in moments of fear I don’t go screaming off to find a daddy to pacify me. I seem to fall into this trap over and over. It happens less often now, but it does happen and I have yet to completely discern why.

Fear of the unknown perhaps. Fear of the future. Just Fear in general. I know that when I am most afraid, I turn to a “father” type of god. Since I’ve never had a father figure in my life, these figures seem to represent all knowing comfort and security for me, something that mothers do not. And I think that that right there is the reason I struggle so with the father/mother images of the Divine. I’d be better served by imagining a Divine energy source, neither male or female or imagining a big brother or sister perhaps. But parental images are problematic and always have been. At least a Divine genderless spirit wouldn’t carry awful connotations from growing up, however uncozy it seems in reality. But more to the point, I think I need to focus less on the big Spirit out there and focus more on the Big spirit in me. Hopefully, I can stop the cycle of fear, patriarchy, scrupulosity, and abandonment. I can learn ways to comfort myself rather than turn outward in fear. Now that might be worth learning.

In this excerpt, Summer focuses on her art, her photography, and avoiding a troubling topic.

Once the holidays were over, Summer settled into a routine:  working in the shop; driving around the foothills, pointing her lens at whatever caught her fancy; and developing and framing the photographs from Ireland.  She planned to display a grouping of these photos in the shop by the end of the month.  She had categorized all of her Ireland work by themes, beginning with a series focusing on castles and other ruins, followed by compelling shots of children in Belfast.  She also had several intriguing ones taken in cemeteries, replete with beautifully carved gravestones.

Still troubled by a nagging secret she’d tucked away in the back of her mind, she’d tentatively decided it was time to have that serious talk with her mother.  She had been avoiding it, hoping to get through the holidays without having to stir up any more turmoil.  But now, on a beautifully overcast January Saturday, she watched her mother as she moved dreamily about the kitchen, pouring coffee and juice and flipping the French toast, and decided to plunge ahead.

“Hey, Mommula, how was your week?  Did you rescue any children?  Slay any dragons?”

Lindsay studied her in amusement, patiently awaiting Summer’s real topic.  She knew that such diversionary tactics preceded some kind of bombshell.  She had become adept in keeping silent while her children or her clients stumbled along, practicing avoidance techniques.

She smiled encouragingly and waited.

“Oh, all right, you win!”  Summer grumbled.  “You know me too well.  Okay, here goes.  I got a strange postcard just before the holidays, postmarked “Seattle,” but there was no return address.  It was so totally out of the blue.  Mom, it was from Autumn!  Remember her?”

“Of course I remember her!  What did she say?”

“Just a really cryptic note.  Here, see for yourself!”  Summer pulled the postcard from the pocket of her overalls, handing it to Lindsay.

In creating the characters in this novel, I didn’t have to plumb the depths.  Everything was right there, almost completely on the surface.

There I was, fresh out of an almost-three-decades career working with families in crisis.  Everyday, I saw versions of these characters, as they came to me with their issues—the poor choices that brought them to this place.

As many of you know, I worked with families who had lost their children due to choices they made.  Behind every such choice, a family dysfunction seemingly careened backward in time, with each generation recreating the seeds of dysfunction.  How to stop it?  The cycle of abuse goes on and on…until someone steps out of the path and takes a different road.

Therapy is the obvious choice for many, but it only works if the participants are willing and able to make changes.

In my book “Embrace the Whirlwind,” the character of Amber Cushing is in a constant battle with her mother, Hilary.  To further understand these dynamics, we catch glimpses of Hilary’s past, in flashbacks, when she visits her mother in her hometown.  There she relives those days that she calls her own “whirlwind past.”  She has one of those “a-ha!” moments, one in which she begins to understand how her own daughter could stray from the path of wise choices.  How impulsive behavior can lead one in an unfathomable  direction.

It is a long road, however, from the occasional insights to a place of common ground.  Exploring their path is one that might resonate for others in similar situations.

From my professional and personal experiences, I created the situations, dilemmas, and characterizations for this novel.   A novel that is close to my heart.

“Young as I am, I know now that everything is about to come. Jimmy will be the place for me to learn the real happiness. He will be my Joy School. My joy. Mine.”

These words sum up this story, about a 13-year-old girl, Katie, transplanted to Missouri after her mother’s death, and subject to the mercurial moods of a stern, inaccessible father; she finds solace in the housekeeper and in her two friends—Cynthia, who is odd and whose grandmother actually interests Katie, with her loud, Italian ways and her penchant for cooking pasta in the middle of the night—and Taylor, a shoplifter, who introduces Katie to her larcenous skills and to make-out sessions at the drive-in theater.

And then there is Jimmy—a 23-year-old married man, who comes to her rescue one day when she has fallen through the ice while skating—and who pays her the kind of attention she is sorely lacking in her everyday life.

This coming-of-age tale skillfully describes a young girl who is out-of-place in her world—a world set in the fifties or sixties—and who searches for some kind of kinship with the cast of characters placed in her path.

We connect with her, in that the author paints a picture of this isolation in such a way that we can relate. We think—Oh, yes, I know what that feels like. And as the story comes to an end, we can feel the hope—just as she experiences it.

Joy School (Ballantine Reader’s Circle) is memorable, hilarious and heartbreaking.

In this excerpt from “Chasing Stardust,” Merrilee juggles her career and single parenthood, always feeling as if she is missing the mark.

Merrilee threw her portfolio across the hall table, balancing the bags of groceries in the other hand.

Something odd hung in the air.  A scent, perhaps?  She’d come home early today, hoping to focus better here, anticipating the blissful quiet.  She needed to put the finishing touches on her latest project.

Thrown off by the eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone in the house, she tiptoed into the kitchen, depositing the bags on the pine island that stood in the center of the room.  Cocking her head, she listened.  Nothing.   She was probably imagining things.  She slowly put the things away, and then, grabbing a soda from the fridge, picked up her portfolio in the hall on the way upstairs.

Outside the room that she had transformed into her study, she paused, imagining a sound again.

She shook her head, laughing softly at her own silliness, and opened the door.  But this time, there was no confusing the sound.  A muffled giggle.  A female voice, and then Colin’s unmistakable laugh.  She hesitated, afraid to know what was going on behind Colin’s bedroom door.
Before she could decide anything, the door burst open to reveal the girl.  A skinny young thing…She couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen…And she was completely naked, unless you counted the tattoos on her stomach.  Her large dark eyes in that white, white face widened when she saw Merrilee.    “Oops,” she giggled.

Jim Broadbent takes a dim view of blogs.

(Sony Classics) Jim Broadbent, Colin Firth, Juliet Stevenson, Gina McKee, Claire Skinner, Sarah Lancashire, Matthew Beard. Directed by Anand Tucker

The bond between a father and a son can be a complicated thing. Too often sons are burdened throughout their lives by the expectations of their father, particularly when they don’t live up to them – and especially when they don’t want to.

Arthur Morrison (Broadbent) and his wife Kim (Stevenson) are doctors with a general practice in the Yorkshire Dales. They have two children, Gillian (Skinner) and Blake (Firth), from whose perspective the story is told. When Blake is in his 40s, Arthur becomes terminally ill. Blake, who by this time has become an established and acclaimed author, is forced to deal with his somewhat dysfunctional relationship with his father. The story is told in a series of flashbacks to events that capture the dynamics of that relationship, and of the full force of Arthur’s boisterous personality.

Arthur delights in getting something for nothing. He is a bit of a con artist and a bon vivant. He certainly has an eye for the ladies, particularly for family friend Beaty (Lancashire) for whom his flirtations, Blake suspects, have gone much farther than just flirting. For one thing, her daughter Josie (Naomi Allistone) bears a suspiciously strong resemblance to him and his sister.

The introverted Blake is constantly crushed by his father’s need for attention. This need is so pronounced it’s to the point where he habitually diverts the spotlight from his own son. Those moments of torment are interspersed with moments of tenderness and Blake becomes conflicted in his feelings for his father. As an adult, he returns to his father’s side to assist his mother in Arthur’s last days, putting strain on Blake’s marriage to Kathy (McKee). Is there a way for father and son to get past the anger and all the missed opportunities for one last reconciliation?

This is based on Blake Morrison’s memoirs, and that is both the movie’s strength and weakness. The movie spans about 30 years, from the late 50s to the 90s, but we don’t get a sense of how the relationship evolved due to the non-linear nature of the storytelling. There is also a genuineness to the relationship between Arthur and Blake, an authenticity. Like real-life relationships, things aren’t wrapped up neatly the way we would like it to, so we don’t get the catharsis that the story forces us to long for.

Broadbent is at his best here, full of bonhomie and joie de vivre. He is charming and simultaneously cruel. He is everyone’s friend, but he is a nightmare to his son, whom he addresses as “fathead” and interrupts his sexual liaisons while carrying on with his own. He is not an easy man to like, but Broadbent makes him likable. Firth is the perfect foil and there are times where you can’t believe the two aren’t related. Firth carries his recriminations around like a wristwatch, referring to them whenever he feels the need. He obsesses about the relationship between Arthur and Beaty, and when he finally gets the information he wants, you feel curiously unfulfilled, much as Blake must have been.

Stevenson is criminally underrated as an actress; she plays a woman here resigned to the failings of her husband but able to somehow find a way to love him despite those failings. She is overshadowed by his personality and sometimes comes off as being wrapped in a blanket of grief, but she carries herself with a particular dignity that makes her role all the more poignant.

This isn’t an easy movie to love. Basically, all the characters are more or less at war with each other and unable to let go of their disappointments. That imbues the movie with a certain amount of reality that makes it a bit more compelling. I found the relationship between Arthur and Blake to be fascinating; I also found it to be depressing. Sometimes, our human frailties demand that our relationships with loved ones be both.

WHY RENT THIS: Broadbent gives a terrific performance, and Stevenson and Firth are nearly as good. The relationship between Arthur and Blake is genuine and believable.

WHY RENT SOMETHING ELSE: There is much emotional turmoil without catharsis; as in real life, the movie doesn’t end necessarily the way we would like it to.

FAMILY VALUES: There are some scenes of sexuality and brief nudity, along with some language.

TRIVIAL PURSUIT: Matthew Beard, who plays Blake as a teenager, wore brown-colored contact lenses in order to more closely resemble Colin Firth.

NOTABLE DVD EXTRAS: None listed.

FINAL RATING: 7/10

TOMORROW: Private

When she woke up, she felt slightly dizzy and a little disoriented.  Had she had that much to drink last night?  She couldn’t remember.  She only recalled trying desperately to recreate the magic.  They had fallen asleep by the fire… She now heard sounds from the kitchen followed by Hal bearing a tray.  She smiled.

“Thought you could use some sustenance,” he breathed softly into her ear, finding his place next to her.  They took turns feeding each other pieces of fruit while they sipped their coffee.

Once they had demolished the food, Hal frowned and cleared his throat.  “There is something we need to talk about,” he began, and Amber immediately knew that something horrible was about to go down.  She was afraid to breathe.

“There’s no easy way to tell you, but something dreadful has happened.  Miranda was murdered.”

She gasped.  Dropping her coffee cup and then, almost as if somehow detached from everything, she watched the porcelain cup shatter into pieces against the hearth.  “What happened?”

“The police haven’t found a suspect yet, but she was discovered in Chinatown in her car…shot.  It could have been about drugs,” he added as if trying to reassure her.  But he could see from her expression that she was remembering their last conversation about the underworld figures.

“Do you believe that?”  Amber asked, hoping he would reinforce that theory.

“There’s no reason to believe anything else at this point.”  His words and tone sounded more reassuring than he looked.

Now the beautiful moments between them felt dirty.

In Ellen Hopkins’ Identical, identical twins Kaeleigh and Raeanne share a complicated, traumatic history.

Some of this history is revealed in pieces as the book progresses, showing us the twins as mirror images of each other, with Kaeleigh bingeing and cutting herself and Raeanne abusing drugs and engaging in sexual acting-out.

With their parents as pillars of the community—their father is a judge and their mother a member of congress—their lives would seemingly be picture-perfect. Certainly the external accouterments would suggest that.

But behind closed doors, ominous forces are at play—a father who sexually abuses his daughter and a mother that looks the other way—and the mirror image twin who observes and notices and protects in the only way she knows how.

Unable to reach out for help, the twins limp along, surviving as best they can.

And then, startling information comes out—at the hands of their paternal grandfather—revealing something of their father’s history that explains a lot.

A final revelation startles the reader while finally allowing the light to shimmer in…And now, healing can begin.

As I read this book, I was put off at first by the style of the text, but came to admire the creative arrangements of the words on the page—reflections of the emotion portrayed—and the original design of Kaeleigh and Raeanne’s voices as “mirror images” on opposing pages when transitioning from one voice to the other.

I will not forget this book for a long time.

Best friends Catherine and Alison shared everything—back when they were children and then teenagers—until one fateful summer. Now Catherine has a secret, one she holds close to her, reveling in its special glow. Because she knows that if she tells Alison, her beautiful, blond best friend, it will no longer be hers alone.

But then one day, they all meet—Catherine, her new love Marc, and Alison—and the secret is out.

Before the day has ended, their lives will tilt in a whole new direction. For Alison has decided that she must have Marc James for herself. She seduces him. They begin their own love affair. And within weeks, the two of them run off together.

Fifteen years later, Alison and Marc James are returning to Farmington, a village outside of London, with their three children and their wealthier lifestyle. For Marc has succeeded financially. They move into a huge, gorgeous house, and almost immediately, Marc insists on a splendid party for all of his new business associates and their new neighbors. But behind closed doors, their marriage and family life is crumbling. Alison has discovered that the man she had to have is nothing but a superficial shell—and he has cheated on her over and over. She is hanging in there, but doesn’t know if she can maintain the façade much longer.

Meanwhile, Catherine has had her own secret pain for all these years, revealed only to the man she eventually marries—Jimmy Ashley—who, incidentally, was Alison’s first crush before she decided she must have Marc. They have two daughters, but are currently separated. Catherine has never been able to fully give herself over to this man. A part of her still belongs to Marc.

Is each woman living “another mother’s life”? And what will happen when they finally come face to face at the party of the summer?

As the story unfolds, many layers are revealed, including the damage that one summer of foolish choices has wrought on each of them. They struggle, they cast aside some of the pain and vengefulness, and finally reach a place of understanding…Can they find true happiness at last?

An intriguing story of first love and the damage of betrayal, Another Mother’s Life depicts how people, no matter how flawed, can finally learn from their mistakes and rebuild their lives.

Creating “Chasing Stardust” has a story all its own.

It began during the fall of 2002 and continued into the spring of 2003.

During this time period, my grandson, pictured above with his sister Fiona, was born.  He spent three months in the hospital after his birth, due to his prematurity, but in January, he came home.

His sister Fiona, who lives with her mother, came to visit regularly, and during much of that time, when she wasn’t playing with her baby brother, she was leaning over my shoulder, trying to discover what I was doing on the computer.  She often asked about the story’s characters, and was especially fascinated by the character Brandi—a little girl born to the primary character’s son.

Because of her interest in this plot line, and in the events that followed, of course I dedicated this novel to her.

It felt as though she were my number one fan, there from the onset.

To this day, she is very proud to have been named on the dedication page of this book, and was happy to pass out bookmarks and postcards to advertise it’s release.

It seems only fitting to acknowledge her in this story of how my book came to be.

Leslie climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment, mentally reviewing the surprising  conversation with Amber’s mother.  Strolling into her kitchen, she grabbed a mineral water from the fridge.  As she sipped the drink, she wondered again how Amber was really doing.

She had not heard a word from her since the day when all the revelations had spilled out, seemingly suggesting a breakthrough.  Apparently, the walls had gone up again.  And from what Hilary had just said, Amber had pulled up stakes again, probably hoping that all the pain would disappear if she changed her circumstances.  Leslie knew only too well the appeal of that particular escape mechanism.  After all, she herself had done some of that a few years ago when confronting her own dashed hopes and dreams.

Remembering that time, Leslie felt again the pain of the loss, but her spirits lifted as she considered the information she had been researching and thought about her visits to the fertility specialist.    Her initial appointments had been both informative and exploratory.

The doctor had conducted some tests, and his reports had been very encouraging, actually, even though he had reminded her that there were no guarantees.  He had told her that she was an excellent candidate, and once she had completed that phase of her plan, she had finally talked to Bill about it all.  At first, he had been wary but had agreed to listen to what the doctor had to say and participate in his own tests.  And now, finally, they were going to start the fertility drugs right after the onset of her next cycle.

Hiding behind her work was no longer an option for her.  She had to have something more in her personal life.  If this in vitro process with her own eggs didn’t work, she and Bill had discussed utilizing artificial insemination with a surrogate’s donor eggs.  Her physician had mentioned putting her in touch with legal specialists, if that step became necessary.  Even using her own eggs and a surrogate, a lawyer would be an integral part of the whole process.

Ruefully, she opened the refrigerator again, searching for something to eat.  She pulled out fresh spinach leaves, a block of cheese, and some tomatoes, and started chopping them for a salad.  Lost in thought, she nicked her finger.  Sucking the blood from the cut, she then held her finger under the cold water tap.  “Clumsy!  I have no business trying to be domestic.”  But nothing could bring her down today.

She sat down to eat her lunch, mentally reviewing the reports she needed to complete for the juvenile court.  She had been treating clients referred by Child Protective Services social workers.  Those clients, and the issues of child abuse, reminded her again of her lost contact with Amber Cushing.

Disappearing like that after such revelations happened more often than not.  But something about the girl had evoked all her nurturing tendencies.  It must be that Little Girl Lost thing she had going on.

Leslie finished her salad.  Carrying the plate to the sink, she rinsed and placed it carefully in the dishwasher.  Now she must really get back to work on that report.  She hurried down the hall to her office, thinking about the client, a young woman referred by her social worker as part of her case plan to reunite with her children.  As she puzzled over the issues, Leslie leaned back in her desk chair.  She closed her eyes as if she could visualize the words forming behind her eyelids.  She opened the saved document on the computer and began to type.