We Were the Lucky Ones by Georgia Hunter

To get inspiration for my work-in-progress about Jewish refugees in the Dominican Republic during World War II, I've been binge-reading historical novels. Last year, I was blissfully browsing in a New York bookstore, when I got in a conversation with a woman whose favorite genre was historical fiction. She recommended We Were the Lucky Ones by Georgia Hunter, a novel based on a true story about a Jewish family's escape from Nazi occupied Poland. The author's grandfather was the luckiest one. His harrowing journey to Brazil and the opportunities he found there reminded me of my great grandfather's mission to help bring Jewish refugees to the Dominican Republic. 

The scope of We Were the Lucky Ones was surprisingly broad given the focus on one family. The five siblings and their parents in Poland scattered to Vichy France, Siberia, West Africa, Italy and Brazil. A family tree and chapters labeled by character, date, and location helps the reader keep track of the sprawling narrative. The Kurk family experienced a wide range of possible outcomes and witnessed a multitude of atrocities. 

As a Jew, I would have found We Were the Lucky Ones hard to read without the promise that at least this family would survive. Even so, the mostly true story is an emotionally charged page-turner. My only criticism is that I wish there had been more chapters about Addy in Brazil since his story provides much needed light. However, debut author Georgia Hunter does a great job of humanizing history without minimizing tragedy and still manages to leave the reader with hope. 

A long year ago, I wondered if I'd be up to the task of portraying a world-wide tragedy that would change the course of history, and now at the end of 2020, I can imagine that darkness. Nazi Germany and the Holocaust were far worse than our pandemic, but I can relate to the constant stress of a global catastrophe coupled to shocking attacks on democracy and scapegoating of the most vulnerable. Worse than any virus is the epidemic of fear, prejudice, and xenophobia. 

There is no vaccine for hate, but we can learn how to avoid the mistakes of our past by studying history. Also a scientific study has shown that reading literary fiction increases empathy. On top of that, novels allow us to escape the confinement of our homes and to meet new people without any risk. This year my family won't be gathering in person, and we will be giving books as gifts.

My to-be-read stack of historical fiction: The Feast of the Goat (La fiesta del chivo) by Mario Vargas Llosa, Suite Française by Irene Némirovsky, Small Island by Andrea Levy, Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese, and the Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante.

Do you have any other mid 20th century historical novels to recommend to me?

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@Barrie Summy

Writers & Lovers by Lily King

Lily King's recipe for Writers & Lovers will entice all readers: start with raw, confessional honesty, add a passion for gourmet food, spice with good and bad sex, mix well with poor judgement, and finally roast all the characters at high heat. If you're looking for a fun escape from these dystopian times, here's your time machine to 1990's Harvard Square. 

A couple of years past thirty, Casey Peabody lives in a dingy room above a garage, working double shifts as a waitress to afford a few early hours to focus exclusively on her literary novel. Unpaid student loans and credit card bills are tossed directly into the garbage. She bikes to work, past squawking geese on the Charles River, her tears mixing with the incessant rain. Casey is mourning her mother's recent death, failed love affairs, and a traumatic childhood. She writes both to escape and to find herself. Her true name isn't even Casey.

"You don't realize how much effort you've put into covering things up until you try to dig them out."

I recommend reading Writers & Lovers slowly to savor the perfect sentences. This a writer's book, expertly crafted but still easy to read. The writing never distracts from the story-telling nor slows the pace. Humorous interludes, passionate moments, and sumptuous descriptions of food brighten the shadows of the backstory. The characters are equally enticing as flawed. It feels so real and familiar. This marvelous book captures, more than any other I've ever read, the hardships and rewards of the writer's life and gives me hope to keep working on my own novel. 

Writers Disclosure: I have a personal connection to Writers & Lovers. After moving from Cambridge, Massachusetts to coastal Maine, I met Lily at the school our children attended. She looked so familiar, but I couldn't place her until reading her latest book. My husband and I had celebrated anniversaries, special birthdays, and graduate school degrees in the gorgeous rooftop garden of the old Upstairs at the Pudding in Harvard Square. Lily had been the perfect waitress, remembering everything without writing it down...until now. Brava, Lily!

My author interview and review of Euphoria (Lily King's previous novel).

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Sigh, Gone by Phuc Tran

In 1975 Phuc Tran was only a toddler when his family fled the chaos of Saigon for rural Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Although nearly all of the residents were white, Phuc refused to be defined by his ethnicity. Instead, he reinvented himself with the help of punk rock, skateboard tricks, and classic literature. His debut memoir, Sigh, Gone captures both the despair and exhilaration of being a misfit American teenager. 

Phuc struggled growing up with parents who could barely speak English and with neighbors who couldn't pronounce his name or see beyond the Vietnam War. Although driven by love, his father's demand for academic perfection frequently crossed the line into physical abuse. Searching for a sense of belonging, Phuc found a chosen family of skateboarding punks, who shared his passion for iconoclastic music and reckless pranks. They accepted him as he was and offered him the loyalty he deserved.

While working at the public library, Phuc found salvation in literary heroes. Reading through an obscure list of great books by dead white men, Phuc aimed to master them all to win a scholarship to a New York university. Every chapter of his memoir is labeled after a great book, and their themes reverberate in his tumultuous life. His confessional story will make you laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time. 

Phuc Tran and his advisees at the Waynflete School
©Sarah Laurence

My family had been waiting eagerly for Phuc's memoir, and Sigh, Gone lived up to our high expectations. My daughter was lucky enough to have Phuc as her advisor in high school, where he taught Classics. Weekly "Awkward Lunch with Phuc" helped Gemma and many others survive those stressful but formative years. Phuc always put his students first and offered them the emotional support he wished he'd had in high school. 

I would highly recommend Sigh, Gone to anyone mature enough for uncensored teenaged boyhood. Although written for adults, I'm certain teens would enjoy its brutal honesty and ironic humor as well. If you want a preview, watch Phuc's Tedx talk, "Grammar, Identity, and the Dark Side of the Subjunctive." 

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Staycation reading: Olive, Again by Elizabeth Strout

I usually try to match my vacation reading to the destination so being stuck at home this year was well timed. Twelve years ago, I'd devoured Olive Kitteridge by my part-time neighbor, Elizabeth Strout. Her eponymous protagonist was deeply flawed: judgemental, abrasive, and brutally honest. Olive was prejudiced toward rich and attractive urbanites and quick to blame the Jews, but she was also willing to put hate aside to help anyone in need and felt remorse for her mistakes. Olive was deliciously human and larger than life. How often is a retired middle school teacher the protagonist of a Pulitzer Prize winning novel?

Nine years ago at a small event for library volunteers, Liz Strout mentioned a few more Olive stories, a tenacious character who continued to haunt her as much as her fans. Olive, Again was finally published last fall, but I didn't want to read about home while traveling in Latin America. Due to the pandemic, we decided to rent a house on the water this summer, only ten miles from home. My son and his girlfriend joined us from Boston after Covid tests. Midcoast Maine was the perfect spot to read these stories, and made me appreciate our quaint hometown all the more. Crosby is a fictionalized blend of Brunswick and Harpswell. I know the bookshop keeper, have dined at the Dolphin, and often drive out to the point. 

Olive, Again brought me home to my staycation. Like its predecessor, the stories featuring Olive as the central character are stronger than the ones in which she only plays a cameo. They link together to form a chronological novel. Of the thirteen stories, only three were disappointing: "The Walk" was as trite as a Hallmark greeting card, and "The End of the Civil War Days" as edgy as an elderly relative cracking a sexually explicit joke. "Exiles" was a follow up to The Burgess Boys, not my favorite of her novels. However, the other ten stories were stunning: original, emotionally resonant, and perfectly crafted. "Arrested" picks up where Olive Kitteridge left off: what happened between Olive and Republican Jack? "Labor" is classic Olive with childbirth disasters. "Light" might be the best story I've ever read about supporting a loved one with terminal illness. "Friend" connects Olive to a character from an earlier novel and gives us a satisfying ending.

When I finished Olive, Again, I was so bereft that I immediately reread the last story in Olive Kitteridge, which my daughter had just finished herself. It was a joy to share Olive with my daughter, to sit side by side, reading on the deck, overlooking the mudflats. We may not be able to visit friends and extended family, but I'm grateful to have had this time close to home with my husband, our children, a dog, and dear old Olive. 

See you at low tide! 

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I Give It to You by Valerie Martin

Who else is dreaming of traveling to Italy? I Give It to You is a most appropriately titled book for a virtual vacation. Even better for escapism, Valerie Martin's new novel is set in the past: the 1980s and World War II Tuscany. Like in her classic Property, Martin offers us an unreliable narrator, but this one is a novelist instead of a slave owner. The protagonist is both guest and parasite.

I Give it to You is a writer's novel that questions the boundary between author and subject. Is the story there to be plucked like a fruit or are there limits, especially when fictionalizing personal history? The protagonist, Jan, is a midlist author has been offered the dream fellowship to research a novel in Italy. She has rented the sunny limonaia at an old estate in rural Tuscany. The architecture is as well rendered as the characters: 

"Parallel to the gate, the charming limonaia stands with its back to the wall. Glass and verdigris copper doors glint beneath the shelter of the rafters, which extend over a small stone terrace. Artfully placed hip-high pots of rosemary and lemon trees create a cool and semiprivate sitting area."

From her sunny patio, Jan observes the aristocratic family in the main villa. The glamorous Beatrice shows her around the countryside, and as a friendship develops between the two middle aged professors, Beatrice shares the story of her family's struggles under Mussolini. Oddly enough, we learn nothing about Jan's past or family. This narrative approach succeeded in creating plot tension and mystery, but at the expense of the protagonist, who was the least developed and most unlikable character. Jan is prone to prejudices against psychiatry and offensive ethnic stereotypes. She judges others with impunity but is defensive when they judge her in turn.

The old villa is both a stage for family drama and a metaphor for decay of the aristocracy. As a reader, we grow to love Villa Chiara as much as Beatrice does. Even its rustic failings like bad plumbing become plot points to increase tension amongst the extended family. The chapters alternate between the 1980s and flashback chapters to Beatrice's childhood during the War and afterwards as a graduate student in Massachusetts. Sometimes the past and present chapters overlap so that the narrative becomes a bit repetitive. What brings the story to life are all the well-developed secondary characters who have hidden motives and agendas of their own.

Although the photos in this post are from my last trip to Tuscany nine summers ago, I Give it To You will be released in the USA tomorrow (8/4/20). I'd recommend it to anyone who craves a vacation in Italy and to writers who enjoy a well-crafted book. I wonder if our current pandemic will divide history as much as World War II did. Will there be a new genre of post-pandemic literature since the world has fundamentally changed?

The Voting Booth by Brandy Colbert

In response to the Black Lives Matter protests, President Barack Obama wrote, "So the bottom line is this: if we want to bring about real change, then the choice isn’t between protest and politics. We have to do both."

As a follow up to the BLM protests, hand The Voting Booth to your woke teen. Brandy Colbert's new YA novel educates young readers about the importance of voting, the obstacles facing first-time voters, and the racist policies and attitudes that undermine American democracy.

Colbert sweetens the lesson in civic responsibility with a cute romance. Straight-A Marva has been waiting her whole life for her first Election Day. She volunteered to register voters and arrived early to the polls before school. To honor his activist brother, Duke had also arrived early to vote, but the polling station doesn't have a record of his registration and his band is playing its first paid gig after school.

When Marva sees Duke turned away from the polls, she offers to help him make sure his vote gets counted. There are many obstacles: a runaway cat, driving while black, ballot shortages, a jealous boyfriend (Alex), truancy calls to parents. Marva and Duke team up to beat the odds and to find her Instagram-famous cat. 

Brandy Colbert, author photo by Jessie Weinberg

At times this topical novel reads a bit like a textbook:
Marva: "Well, it's June nineteenth. Enslaved people in Texas didn't find out until two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation that they were free. Not until 1865. So black people celebrate it every year, and it's recognized by almost every state in the country, even though a lot of people don't know about it." 

Unlike a textbook, the white boyfriend's insensitive response shows why this lesson is important:
Alex: "Yeah, but what's the point of two separate holidays? I don't care if you're black, white, blue, or green - we're all American, right?"

When Marva flags his color-blind world view as ignorant and Alex argues with her instead of apologizing, his grandmother demonstrate how to be a good ally: "It would do you some good to listen instead of getting defensive next time."

Seeing political lessons played out in everyday life will help teens relate to these important issues. Most of the book is fast paced to keep even reluctant readers turning the pages. It's marvelous to have a diverse book with middle class black and biracial characters, who are not victims but empowered agents of change. If they make the effort to vote!

Mainers: remember to vote in our primary Tuesday July 14th

or drop off your absentee ballot at your town office tomorrow.

Maine allows you to register in person at the polls.

I've been volunteering for Maine House Speaker Sara Gideon, 

who is running for the Democratic nomination 

to challenge Senator Susan Collins in November.

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez

A Blue Morpho butterfly in her prime.

In 1960 Julia Alvarez was ten-years-old when her family fled the Dominican Republic for the USA. The SIM military police had uncovered her father's involvement in a plot against General Trujillo's authoritarian regime. That same year in the DR, three of the four Mirabal sisters were murdered. Their deaths were made to look like an accident but everyone knew the truth. Those brave young women, code-named the Butterflies (las Mariposas in Spanish), were the beloved symbols of the resistance. Author Julia Alvarez reimagined their story in her gorgeous historical novel, In the Time of the Butterflies. Although the book was first published 26 year ago, this tale of a narcissistic dictator and the brave young women who dared to defy him feels all the more relevant today.

The story itself was compelling, but what made me fall in love with In the Time of the Butterflies were the well developed characters, the gorgeous writing, and the interesting narrative structure. The chapters alternate between the perspectives of the four sisters, following them from their privileged girlhood to a revolutionary adulthood under the tyranny of Trujillo's reign. Each voice was unique. The eldest sister was the most cautious due to her overbearing husband. The second sister was a dedicated revolutionary, who secretly suffered under the burden of heroic expectations. The third sister was motivated by religious passion and family loyalty. The baby sister disclosed too much in her diaries, admitting her infatuation with the revolutionary men more than the cause, making her delightfully human. Every reader could identify with one of the sisters. It felt so real and relatable, this focus on their family life and the villainy of Trujillo, more than on the polemic of the revolution. However, the trajectory of their tragic lives clearly illustrates the horrors of authoritarianism. 

A Blue Morpho butterfly with shut wings is well camouflaged. The spots look like owl eyes to scare predators.

In the "Postscript," Julia Alvarez explains why she decided to reimagine the personal life of the sisters: "As for the sisters of legend, wrapped in superlatives and ascended into myth, they were also finally inaccessible to me. I realized, too, that such deification was dangerous, the same god-making impulse that had created our tyrant. And ironically, by making them myth, we lost the Mirabals once more, dismissing the challenge of their courage as impossible for us, ordinary men and women."

This might be the treacherous mountain range that the Mirabal sister crossed to reach Puerta Plata.

Read In the Time of the Butterflies to find the courage to fight for change and to remember how to feel hope for a brighter future. The Butterflies will remind you to appreciate family and democracy and to take nothing for granted. I read the book to research my own historical novel about Jewish refugees in the Dominican Republic under Trujillo, and I feel all the more inspired. To practice my Spanish I'm also reading Alvarez's children's delightful Tía Lola series, which I'd recommend to 8-12 year-olds in either English or Spanish. Alvarez is a master of her craft and one of my favorite authors.

¡Vivan las Mariposas!

The gorgeous Blue Morpho butterfly near the end of her short life.

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Dominicana by Angie Cruz & a Visit to the Dominican Republic

Playa Sosúa in the Dominican Republic

Inspired by her Dominican mother, Angie Cruz decided to write a realistic novel about immigration and assimilation. Dominicana is a quiet story of savory dishes, simmering passions, and the twisted bonds of family. Although this 2019 novel was written for adults, it would crossover well to teens.

In 1964 fifteen-year-old Ana Canción is wed to Juan Ruiz, a man more than twice her age. Her desperate family is struggling to make a living in the Dominican Republic. Juan and his charismatic brothers are working in New York but still operate a restaurant business back home. The brothers have an eye on the Canción farmland for expansion. Juan also wants a Dominican wife to start a family in New York City. Their homeland is in turmoil, and this union could bring both families more economic security and the salvation of chain migration.

Dutiful Ana pretends to be eighteen to fly to NYC. She arrives to shocking cold and isolation, unable to speak the language or to deal with city life. Her new husband is abusive and demands that she stay home alone, but Ana schemes to start a business and to learn English while Juan is back in the DR. And then there is Cesar, Juan's younger brother, who reminds her how to laugh again....

Dominicana's gorgeous cover caught my eye at Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick. I'm taking Spanish at Bowdoin College and reading Dominican American authors to research a new book. I started with nonfiction, but you can learn so much more about a culture by listening to its music, tasting its food, and reading its stories. Angie Cruz, Elizabeth Acevedo, and Junot Diaz have taught me slang I won't learn at school and a deeper appreciation of Dominican culture. They are phenomenal writers who create unforgettable characters in tough settings. Cruz's literary style with strong imagery evokes a sensory reaction. You don't just read Dominicana, you experience Ana's struggles as your own and hope for a better future. A deeply personal and realistic story such as this will engender empathy for immigrants and for victims of abuse or prejudice. I'd recommend this book to anyone.

Like Angie Cruz, a true family story inspired me to write historical fiction. During World War II my great grandfather, Arthur Lamport, helped to set up a farming settlement in the Dominican Republic for Jewish refugees. Other nations imposed strict quotas on Jews fleeing Nazi Germany, but the Dominicans opened their country to about 850 Jewish settlers. One small nation of only 1.5 million residents saved near three thousand more lives through visas. Most people, even other Jews, have never heard of Sosúa.

Last month I visited the Dominican Republic to practice Spanish and to see what remains of the Jewish settlement in Sosúa. I found a beautiful beach, their old synagogue, and more to share later.

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