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Ordinary Lives: Memoirs of
American Woman
ORDINARY LIVES: MEMOIRS OF AMERICAN
WOMAN
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OVERVIEW
SUGGESTED FURTHER READINGS
BACKGROUND READINGS IN WOMEN'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY
GENERAL COMMENTARY ON SERIES
ALL BUT THE WALTZ
AN AMERICAN CHILDHOOD
BRONX PRIMITIVE
TWO-PART INVENTION
ROAD SONG
COMING OF AGE IN MISSISSIPPI
HOUSE OF HOUSES
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On the surface, An American Childhood (1987) by Annie
Dillard is a sunny, often endearing account of growing up
in an idiosyncratic, well-to-do family in 1950s Pittsburgh.
Yet, beyond the nostalgia it may inspire, it is the singularly
compelling description of Dillard's awakening to the
physical world and of the growth of her mind. Dillard
underscored the difficulties of writing about one's
childhood by saying, "You can't put together a memoir
without cannibalizing your own life for parts." The "parts"
she recovers are reconstructed with the maturity of a
writer and naturalist whose memoir is one of the most
celebrated of our time.
In Coming of Age in Mississippi (1968), Anne Moody
recalls what it was like to grow up black in the South of the
1940s and 1950s. Her loss of innocence is marked by her
courage as a young woman to challenge injustices during
the early Civil Rights movement. Moody's autobiography is
a landmark work in what has been called the "new
literature of obscurity" of the late 1960s. Like Maya
Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and Claude
Brown's Manchild in the Promised Land, it reminds us that
the spotlight of truth can rest unforgettably on the
"ordinary" life.
Overview
T
he last half-century has seen the emergence
of autobiographical writing as a major form
among American women writers. Since the
autobiographical tradition prior to this time belonged more
to men than to women, women's voices, particularly
"ordinary" women's voices, were relatively unheard. In
addition, earlier autobiography was typically motivated by
the desire of famous or "special" individuals to record and
preserve significant thoughts and historically important
experiences. Recent women's autobiographies, however,
appear to grow most often from a writer's need to make
sense of her life, to define herself by intellectually
mastering her experiences, and to locate her place in a
broader concept of history.
Natalie Kusz's Road Song (1990) describes the
challenges and hardships that faced Kusz and her family
when her parents decided to leave Los Angeles in the late
1960s and search for an alternate life-style on the Alaskan
frontier. Soon after their arrival, six-year-old Kusz was
savagely attacked by a neighbor's sled dog and nearly
died. Her account of the physical and emotional struggles
that followed this experience is notable not only for the
fortitude it reflects but for its steady avoidance of self-pity
and its lyrical voice.
Mary Clearman Blew's All But the Waltz combines memoir
with personal essay in a vital, unromanticized account of
her family's hundred-year history on the Central Montana
plains. Interspersing snippets of her own story with a
series of loosely connected ancestral narratives, Blew
recreates and reconsiders the profound effects of a bleak,
yet beautiful landscape on the human psyche. Her
attempts to understand her own struggles in the context of
inherited landscape and culture reveal the power of story
to link people across generations and to inform
experience.
The six writers represented in this series bring widely
varied personal contexts to their narratives. Their memoirs
nevertheless share the common belief that the act of
remembering and reexamining experiences through
writing has both individual value and larger social
significance. In constructing, rather than simply accepting,
their life histories, they shape or reinvent themselves as
they shape their texts. Each confronts inevitable changeusual or unusual, expected or unexpected-but manages
through writing not just to endure, but to understand and
grow. Their memoirs illustrate the power of personal
quests to illuminate experience beyond themselves.
Madeleine L'Engle's Two-Part Invention: The Story of a
Marriage is the memoir of her forty-year marriage to actor
Hugh Franklin. In this moving and ultimately joyous book,
written during the summer of her husband's final illness,
L'Engle participates in her husband's dying, recreates their
shared life, and contemplates life in all of its richness,
adventures, surprises, and sorrows.
Kate Simon's classic memoir Bronx Primitive (1982)
recreates her childhood as a Polish Jewish immigrant in
New York during the years following World War I. Set
against the background of the Tremont Avenue section of
the Bronx, the book details the family culture and
immigrant neighborhood of Simon's childhood, as well as
her relationships with an autocratic father and a wellmeaning, but essentially powerless mother. The vividness
and candor of her account have made it for many the
model of a well-written memoir.
Suggested Further Readings
For
further
exploration
of
American
women's
autobiographies and memoirs, look for these titles at your
local library or bookseller. The Wyoming Council for the
Humanities cannot provide these titles for addition or
substitution in this series.
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Buddhism, timely in today‘s world climate. Discussion of
L‘Engle‘s spirituality made me realize that people would
like to explore other philosophies.
Mary Clearman Blew, Balsamroot
Bebe Campbell, Sweet Summer: Growing Up With and
Without My Dad
The series made me more cognizant of our need for the
emotional and spiritual enrichment the arts provide.
Lorene Carey, Black Ice
Veronia Chambers, Mama's Girl
Vicki Vincent, Rock Springs, 02-03
Mary Crow Dog, Lakota Woman
Anne Ellis, Life of an Ordinary Woman
This message may be of specific interest to those of you
leading the Ordinary Lives series. It regards the
substitution of Pat Mora's House of Houses for Road
Song. Our committee who put the series together was of
course devastated when Road Song went out of print and
we had to find another memoir that did not repeat themes,
region, etc. of the others in the series. I just want to say a
little bit now about why we chose it, how we see it fitting
into the series, and how a scholar might preface it for a
group.
Vivian Gornick, Fierce Attachments
Doris Grumbach, Coming Into the End Zone
Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston, Farewell to Manzanar
Hettie Jones, How I Became Hettie Jones
Maxine Hong Kingston, Woman Warrior
Mary Karr, The Liar's Club
Madeleine L'Engle, The Crosswicks Journal
Mary McCarthy, Memories of a Catholic Girlhood
Obviously we try for ethnic diversity within a series. We
read several Asian American and Chicana memoirs as
possible substitutes. When it came right down to it, Maxine
Hong Kingston's Woman Warrior was the best choice for
an Asian American memoir, but we were concerned that
too many readers might have already read it; it's a fairly
well-known text. Another factor that weighed heavily is that
our past experience with Bless Me, Ultima and a few other
novels tells us that Wyoming readers have less
experience with Hispanic/Chicana/Mexican American
culture in literature than would be expected given its
presence in Wyoming.
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Cross Creek
May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude
Alix Kates Shulman, Drinking the Rain
Kate Simon, A Wider World
Susan Allen Toth, Blooming: A Small Town Girlhood
Background Readings in Women's
Autobiography
Cahill, Susan, ed. Introduction. Writing Women's Lives: An
Anthology of Autobiographical Narratives by TwentiethCentury American Women Writers. HarperCollins, 1994.
(A fairly extensive bibliography is included.)
House of Houses was the best of several choices because
it conveys the magical realism that was central to Mora's
experiences and that is central to the culture she presents.
The importance of storytelling also is central to her
memoir.
Rose, Phyllis. Introduction. The Norton Book of Women's
Lives. Norton, 1996.
Gunn, Janet Varner. Autobiography: Toward a Poetics of
Experience. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.
Two simple points might lessen readers' confusion or
anxiety: First, the opening chapters introduce several
relatives whose influence on Mora is significant but whose
names are somewhat irrelevant as the characters are
larger than life and sort themselves out eventually. So,
although the number of character names can be a bit
overwhelming, as in a Tolstoy novel yet not to that
magnitude, I would tell readers not to worry if they lose
track of who is who in the beginning. It's more important to
absorb Mora's feeling for her relatives.
Jelinek, Estelle C., ed. Women's Autobiography: Essays in
Criticism. Indiana University Press, 1980.
Pearlman, Mickey. Listen to Their Voices: Twenty
Interviews With Women Who Write. Norton, 1993.
General Commentary on Series
Secondly, Mora interacts with the living and the dead
indiscriminately in the memoir. So one shouldn't get
confused when a dead aunt stops by for dinner. At some
point we are told who's living and who's dead. Readers'
responses to this blurring of reality should be interesting.
Mora's point seems to be that these relatives live on and
continue to influence her shaping of self through their
stories, so she lets them speak for themselves. We may
want to raise for discussion different cultural attitudes
toward death. If readers can keep moving despite some
uncertainty about these points, they will discover that the
memoir's recursivity works to clarify what's coming and
what has been said.
A strength of this series is the opportunity to compare
memoirs - writing styles and aspects of memoirs.
Suggestion: remove All But the Waltz from the series - it
wasn‘t special enough for this group to get past its faulty
construction. It generated good discussion but about
vanishing Wyoming ranches rather than the book itself.
Not everyone liked the rest of the books but thought they
had merit. Beginning with Road Song and ending with
Two Part Invention worked well. I‘d like to see a series
that explores religious mythologies: Judaism, Islam,
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affected the discussions. At least I hope not! For my
suggestions on the latter, see below.
House of Houses may be the most challenging memoir in
the series. I hope we can exchange ideas as those of you
facilitating the series lead a discussion of House of
Houses. Peter Anderson will have the experience of
leading two groups with Road Song and one with House of
Houses. Let us know what is and what might have been!
. . . About the series, I will merely pass along a point of
discussion from several of our sessions: What makes
these women "ordinary"? Ultimately, I think we concluded
that the title of the series was--either intentionally or not-rather ironical.
Diane LeBlanc
I have to reiterate, briefly, my concern about House of
Houses. I just don't think it serves the purpose of the
series very well. If anything, I think it may put off readers
and suggest to them--falsely--that there are cultural
differences that they "just don't get." In its place, I would
recommend Refuge by Terry Tempest Williams.
Excerpts from Peter Anderson's final report on the series
as a whole in which he talks about the way he approached
it:
The Jackson group did single out a couple of the books for
scathing criticism: Bronx Primitive and An American
Childhood. The first the group seemed to find whiny and
pointless. The second they found snooty and detached.
(Both are views I'm still struggling to understand.). . . . The
group's favorite book was Road Song, by a country mile.
In one of those bitter ironies that life throws us, just after
this series concluded, I came across a book on my shelf
that I should have stumbled on several months ago.
Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft of Memoir (ed. and
introduced by William Zinsser, Boston: Houghton, 1987)
developed from a series of talks at the New York Public
Library in 1986. Among the chapters is Annie Dillard's "To
Fashion a Text," in which she describes not only the
genesis of An American Childhood, but also her own
views on the genre. As I read it, I constantly wished that I
had been able to share it with participants in this series,
for it clearly--and elegantly, as only Dillard can write-establishes not only her view of the genre, but also a
window into the memoir writer's choices. In retrospect, I
believe that this series, in particular, needs more set up for
each book. In addition to distributing and discussing the
article by Dillard mentioned above, I would also encourage
future facilitators to openly discuss the choices the
memoir-writer makes. Why is it or is it not presented
chronologically? What effect does the writer create by
what is not included or detailed in the book?
My approach to the series was to bring out the relationship
of contemporary self-telling to the broad history of
autobiography (personal) and memoir (public) narrative. I
used a three-part theory for explaining why women's
autobiography has become a major genre in the past pair
of decades: (1) the geographic, social expansion of literal
democracy worldwide since the 1970s has magnified the
value of the individual within society, (2) the inversion of
Freudian psychology by academic feminism has resulted
in a mainstream pursuit of real depictions of feminine
psychology, and (3) as our view of nature and the world at
large has become increasingly a perception of chaos and
randomness, people have sought causal relationships in
life--a sense of agency--which they find in women's stories
more than in men's.
Bob Mittan
Douglas group
These theories are courtesy of several leading writers in
the field, notably Jill Ker Conway and Susan Cahill. I
offered the theories to my groups and they proved to be
rich fodder for discussion. The other main thrust of my
strategy was to spin every discussion of an author's life
into revealing forays into the lives of discussion
participants. I did not want these discussions to be purely
academic. I wanted people to talk as much about their
own lives, and how they would tell their own stories, as
about the books we were reading. This was something of
an ongoing battle, not because folks didn't wish to talk
about themselves, but because, I think, people politely
resist burdening others with their own life stories. We did
get many good insights, nevertheless.
Here's a recent opinion piece from the Chronicle of Higher
Education which seems apropos for the Ordinary Lives
book discussion series.
Regards,
Deb Koelling
Why Memoir Isn't Always Art
. . . I have to admit that I was in over my head with this
series in a couple of ways. First--and most obviously-since all the participants were female and the series
focused on memoirs of women, I felt unequal to the task of
commenting on women's lives. Second, although I am
familiar with the genre of memoir and its cousins
biography and autobiography, I don't believe that I really,
truly set up these distinctions from the outset, or prompted
the participants to read the genre for its own sake. I
cannot change the former; I don't think it ultimately
By BROCK CLARKE
There should be a rule: Before one reads a memoir,
or writes one, or holds forth on the virtues or evils of
the memoir, one should be made to read Barry
Hannah's short story "That's True," from his 1978
collection Airships. The story, of course, is not
specifically about the memoir, but it does say a great
deal about the genre's recent popularity and why we
should be wary of it.
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truth in that accusation. Both works are set in and
around New York's literary world, but while
McCarthy's memoir places an individual life within the
context of a vital historical moment, Texier's memoir
suggests than an individual life is a vital historical
moment. Tellingly, even
In "That's True," the narrator tells the story of Lardner,
who travels from Louisiana to New York to become a
psychiatrist. Lardner is a bogus psychiatrist -- he
forges his credentials-- but he's also a successful one,
because he is "all fit out with thick glasses and a
mustache and an ailing gnarled hand.... He said
people in therapy got close to a shrink with an
outstanding defect." In addition, Lardner tapes the
sessions with his patients. But:
Patricia Hampl, a passionate defender of the memoir
and a brilliant writer in her own right, has admitted
that "a lot of memoirs are self-absorbed, [and] many
American memoirists in particular are screamers and
whiners."
"He never taped anybody without their knowledge of
it. "
All of them liked to be taped, Lardner said.
"It was their creativity."
My contention is not that griping can't be artful, but
rather that we shouldn't assume that all memoir is
artful when it gripes. We seem to believe that we have
more to gripe about, more to reveal about ourselves,
at the end of the 20th century than ever before.
Perhaps that has something to do with the millennial
anxiety we hear so much about; or perhaps writers
have concluded that they have kept their private lives,
well, private for too long. In any case, it is clear that
memoirs have become so popular because
contemporary readers feel that they need them so
badly -- need to hear about lives that are far more
disastrous or triumphant than their own.
The problem in this story is clearly not Lardner, the
fraud, but his patients, who like their sessions to be
taped. As the author makes clear, they like their
sessions to be taped because it is easy to be taped,
and it is easy because the patients' confessions about
their personal lives and problems are not creative
acts, but substitutes for creative acts.
Barry Hannah's criticism of such "creativity" intensifies
later in the story, when the narrator recounts one of
the taped sessions.
In telling the facts about their personal lives, writers
have abandoned what used to be called
autobiographical fiction, which is now seen as false
and mean-spirited. In liberating real lives from fiction,
the theory goes, memoirists have liberated the truth
as well. In fact, when the novelist, critic, and
biographer Jay Parini wrote in this newspaper that his
students "definitely prefer memoirs to novels" (The
Chronicle, July 10, 1998), he suggested that they are
right in doing so: "I believe my students understand,
intuitively, that when they read memoirs they are
learning things that cannot as easily be acquired by
reading fiction."
"Patient: I feel ugly all the time. I can't quit cigarettes.
The two great Danes I bought won't mate. I'm starting
to cry over sentimental things, songs on the radio. Is it
basically wrong for a man to like macramé? I never
feel intimate with anybody until we talk about Nixon,
how awful he was. My kid looks away when I give him
an order. I mean a gentle order. Let me take a breath.
"Lardner: Jesus Damn Christ! What an interesting
case! Your story takes the ticket. This is beyond
trouble, Mr. ----, this is art!
"Patient: What? My story art?
The "understanding" our students attain from the
memoir -- and from the phenomenon of the new wave
of memoirs -- has troubling implications for writers,
teachers, and students alike. Creative-writing
teachers have long known that students often defend
their fiction on the grounds that it is based on fact, on
something that "really happened." In other words, the
work is, in a sense, already good, because it is based
on a true, significant event. That is precisely why we
should be wary of the memoir: not because it is based
on actual events, but because it makes the
aforementioned defense appear reasonable.
"Lardner: Yes. You are ugly. But so very important."
Again, the author is critical here not of Lardner, who is
a liar, and a talented one at that, but of the patient,
who is eager to believe that being taped is akin to
creating something, and that the simple narration of
one's life is art.
I am not claiming that all memoirs are the equivalent
of Lardner's taped psychiatric sessions. However,
certain cultural forces are at work that make "That's
True" more timely than we should be comfortable
with. For instance, the most common complaint about
the memoir is that the genre, like Lardner's psychiatric
patient, has become self-indulgent --concerned less
with the relationship between the self and the world,
and more with the self as the world.
As we are fond of telling ourselves, we live in a
democracy, where individual voices and lives matter:
Thus, the American memoir, in particular, revolves
around the importance of individual lives, or, as is the
case in many recent memoirs, the importance of
individual tragedies. But once they are put down on
paper, individual lives are not important, unless
writers make them important; individual tragedies are
not meaningful, unless writers make them meaningful.
The critic Laurie Stone argues that "most memoirs fail
One only has to compare Catherine Texier's recent
account of the breakup of her marriage -- Breakup -and Mary McCarthy's account of her life in the 1930s - Intellectual Memoirs -- to recognize the element of
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as literature [precisely] because their authors mistake
their experience for a story rather than search out the
story in their experience."
But that is not the point. The point is that while
Slesinger could have easily done a hatchet job on
Solow in a memoir, instead she created Miles
Flinders, one of the important male characters in The
Unpossessed. For the book to do more than report on
a historical period, the character of Miles needed to
serve the various aesthetic needs of the novel, not
gratify the needs of Slesinger's own ego. Slesinger
knew this. Miles is thus a richer figure -- more
sympathetic, more surreal, more interior -- than Solow
could have been in a memoir. Solow easily could
have been portrayed as a villain, but Miles is not so
simple. He resembles Solow, but because he is not
contained within the parameters of Slesinger's life, he
is something more than Solow as well.
And yet, much of the talk around the pre-eminence of
the memoir would have us believe that those
experiences are important simply because they are
true, because they enable us to "learn ... things that
cannot as easily be acquired by reading fiction."
But should our access to art be so easy? As Donald
Barthelme once argued about his own fiction: "Art is
not difficult because it wishes to be difficult, rather
because it wishes to be art."
Barthelme's theory of difficulty is instructive because it
reminds us of what fiction can do to the world as we
know it. The novelist Alice McDermott has recently
suggested that fiction "tells us things and puts things
together in ways that life doesn't allow, and by the
way it puts things together, it shows us things that life
does not. So, unless the memoir is manipulating
reality the way fiction does, memoir is limited to what
life actually provides." In other words, if life is difficult,
then we need to find ways to represent its difficulty;
and we represent life's difficulty by adding to it, by
putting it into a form shaped primarily by aesthetic
sensibility, not by our own experiences.
We should heed Slesinger's example, precisely
because so many contemporary memoirs legitimize
qualities -- sentimentality, caricature, vitriol -- that we
should abhor in art. Not all memoirs are guilty of those
sins, which is partly my point: We are reading the
wrong memoirs for the wrong reasons. We should be
reading -- or re-reading -- Mary Karr's The Liar's Club,
which is an unsentimental, self-deprecating narrative
of her family's dissolution, not Catherine Texier's rants
about her estranged husband. To use the cliche, we
should be looking for light in contemporary prose, not
heat. Texier may tell the truth about her and her
husband, but so what? It is not the truth that matters
in writing, but how the author makes a story seem
true.
If many contemporary memoirs are indeed "limited,"
then perhaps we should re-evaluate that most
misunderstood of art forms, the autobiographical
novel. Take, for example, Tess Slesinger's 1934 novel
The Unpossessed. Slesinger was a radical writer and
activist in New York during the early 1930s, was
married to the writer Herbert Solow, and was friends
with such prominent figures as Mary McCarthy, Lionel
Trilling, and Max Eastman. Slesinger's association
with those people ended disastrously: with divorce,
abortion, political alienation, physical dislocation.
One way, then, for writers, teachers, and students to
avoid the pitfalls of memoir is to re-examine how
fiction regards truth. Unlike memoir, fiction does not
need to heed the truth: It needs only to tell a story and
to make it mean something. For writers, truth and
meaning intersect not in real life, but in the writing
itself. Even in the age of memoir, it is still fiction that
most powerfully teaches us that lesson.
Given all that personal and ideological wreckage, it is
surprising that Slesinger did not write a memoir.
Instead, she wrote a highly stylized novel, which
combined and altered the identities of those historical
figures, dramatized their failures and successes, and
re-imagined the places where those failures and
successes might yet take us. For decades, literary
critics have been obsessed with the cultural and
literary icons Slesinger fictionalized. But in looking for
the true heroes and villains among them, the critics
have attempted to simplify a wonderfully complex
history, and thus have become mired in its ideological
and personal battles.
Brock Clarke is an assistant professor of English at
Clemson University.
Subscribers can read this story on the Web at this
address:
http://chronicle.com/weekly/v46/i10/10b00901.htm
Copyright 1999 by The Chronicle of Higher Education
Those of you conducting the Ordinary lives series this year
may want to look at the very useful website designed and
developed by Deb Koelling, the scholar for the Powell
program. I will eventually be adding a link to it on the
council website, but, in the meantime, here's the URL for
accessing it directly:
In contrast, the act of writing fiction enabled Slesinger
to illuminate her own history rather than wallow in it,
for, as McDermott says, in non-fiction "so many of the
choices are made outside of the writing. But with
fiction, all the choices must be made inside the
writing."
http://www.nwc.cc.wy.us/id/koellind/WCH/frames.htm
In Slesinger's case, Solow may indeed have been a
bad husband.
Really nice work, Deb!
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The tricky part for me with this particular series was the
regularly small size of the group. Crowheart only had a
few people sign up, compared to most of the other groups
I usually work with, and an average of seven attendees at
each meeting.
gentle ways to unlock personal doors, which makes for
better, warmer discussions.
The problems with small discussion groups in small towns
are threefold:
Peter Anderson
(1) discussion wanes quickly; the leader has to really work
at it to keep it going and avoid doing so in an artificial
manner (using a lot of study questions); (2) everybody
already knows everybody, so the energy seems flatter less performance tension; (3) if there is a dominant
member, the group is quicker to acquiesce to that person's
leadership in matters of opinion.
Pinedale‘s discussions were exceptionally good this year. I
think the group enjoyed the memoirs tremendously,
perhaps more than either the Jackson or Dubois groups.
The Pinedale group was especially fond of Road Song.
This book certainly attracts fans. When I first encountered
it, I thought it was nicely done, but not exceptionally
interesting, and at times rather youthful. My judgment has
not been reflected in the opinions of any of the groups I‘ve
led on this book. Several people even told me that the
series itself was made for them by the inclusion of Road
Song. I must admit that the book offers opportunities for
discussion that the other books withhold; for example, it‘s
easy to get into the issue of memoir as pioneer narrative
with Road Song; it‘s easy to talk about grass-roots
storytelling with Road Song; it‘s easy to open people up
about coming of age with Road Song. I think the book is
just more accessible than the others in the series.
Perhaps, anyway.
I thought I was tired of this series, but now I'd like to do it a
few more times.
That's not to say that we didn't have some energetic
discussions, because we did, or that there were no healthy
differences of opinion, because there were. It's just that
I've come to believe that discussion leaders actually earn
their keep with smaller groups more than they do with
larger groups (where discussions can soar on autopilot).
This season, I was a little more sophisticated in my
approach to the memoir series, which I have conducted
several times in the past with varying results. Previously,
I've wanted too much to turn the series into a dialogue
about the genre - cultural history, publishing history,
critical background. A ton of material has been written
about it all, and I studied it deeply and tried to relay it to
my groups. Needless to say, most found that stuff, by and
large, rather boring.
Overall, the women‘s memoir series seems to be very
strong. Many of the books (particularly Coming of Age in
Mississippi, Bronx Primitive and Road Song) consistently
make for great discussions. Coming of Age brings out the
most social criticism. All But the Waltz generates the most
regional nostalgia. Two-Part Invention is usually the most
controversial, because Madeleine L‘Engle is such an odd
duck. As discussion leader, I found this series difficult to
lead, almost (but not quite) as challenging as the travel
series. The difficulty lay in the explosive array of deeply
personal investments readers seemed to take in various
books. Here‘s what I mean: Each book seemed to really
hit home for some (perhaps two or three) members of the
group each meeting. Those people — different individuals
each time — came to the discussion profoundly affected
(positively or negatively) by what we‘d read. They‘d rant
and rave about the book, close to tears at times, while the
rest of the group took the book more or less in stride.
These personal stories do that to people. The torch of
affectivity passed around among the participants as the
series progressed. Only a few readers seemed not to have
been deeply affected by at least one of the books.
In reality, I found it boring, too. I just thought that academic
ground should be the meaty filling of this pie. It wasn't a
total mistake - folks appreciate erudition, to a point - but I
decided my approach could be relaxed and improved. This
time, I focused repeatedly and sharply on the notion of
telling one's own story. We talked about times we'd written
or expressed our lives to other people, and why. We
discussed the motivations, personal and otherwise, for
talking about oneself publicly. We debated, if each of us
were to sit down and tell his or her own story, what
approaches we'd like to take. We talked about the things
we don't talk about (the silences in our life stories) and
why. We discussed writing styles and structural
approaches, like detached versus gushy-personal,
chronological versus non-chronological, focusing on a
single figure in one's background, or a single event. We
talked about lying and exaggerating. We talked about the
metaphors of our life stories, how a single image, location
or tangible item can be used to symbolize a life. We talked
about what it would feel like to have strangers read our
lives. We talked about how our families would take our
memoirs.
The difficulty for the discussion leader — and one I relish,
actually — is to modulate between the deeply affected
person(s) and the lesser affected with respect to any given
book. I found this situation to be more pronounced with the
memoir series than with any of the sets of novels we‘ve
done. That‘s one of the reasons I especially appreciate
and enjoy leading this series.
You'll have to ask the members of this discussion group
what they thought, but in my opinion this was a better
approach to the series than the technical, by far. I suppose
I could have predicted so. But for one thing, I think three
years ago I wasn't as sophisticated about memoir in
general (my knowledge was strong, but derivative) as I
have since become. Furthermore I've learned a lot about
Peter Anderson
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The Dubois group, like the groups in Jackson and
Pinedale, seemed to really appreciate the memoir series.
These discussions carried an intellectual urgency.
Participants always wanted to know more about the
writers, about the literary backgrounds of each of the
books. The Dubois group, perhaps more than the others
with which I was involved this year, seemed comfortable
with disagreement. Every book seemed to instigate a
variety of opinions, and participants didn‘t seem reticent
about controverting each other.
Here's a series of thumbnail sketches of each discussion
in the series from Carol Deering's final report as project
director. She captures the "feel" of the series, I think,
which both she and Barbara Gose, the scholar, thought a
very successful one:
COMING OF AGE IN MISSISSIPPI
People had mixed reactions to this book. I personally
loved it. It was written with immediacy, and that's what I
appreciated about it. (I just realized why I couldn't find my
notes on this book--I was at the library directors' retreat.
This was the only book discussion I have missed in four
years!) I do know we all wondered what Moody is doing
these days. . .
Having said that, the reactions to most of the books were
essentially quite mild. Coming of Age in Mississippi
stimulated a long (almost an hour) discussion of civil
rights, and we got off into the Matthew Shepherd incident
and a variety of other subjects. Road Song, as was true in
Jackson and Pinedale, was the best-liked book. The least
liked was our first book, Two-Part Invention. I tried to start
off the evening by playing a fragment from Bach‘s "TwoPart Inventions" just to suggest the sort of metaphor
L‘Engle had in mind. My cd player fizzled. We suffered
several minutes of silence while I fumbled with wires and
outlets and buttons. When I got it working, I don‘t think my
attempt at intertextuality contributed much to the
discussion. We talked about Bach for a while, and then the
group, save for a couple of participants, roundly trashed
Madeleine L‘Engle.
TWO-PART INVENTION
Reactions to this, also, were mixed. Some people loved it,
others were bored. The obvious allusion to Bach's music
worked well with the two lives/lifestyles (husband & wife,
city & country, etc.), and the "invention" caused all of us to
wonder (as we did often in this series) what gets put into
memoirs and what gets left out. We don't get to know
Hugh, and we wondered how the story would be different
if he had written this.
HOUSE OF HOUSES
We were lucky in this discussion to have a MexicanAmerican woman talk to us about her childhood in relation
to the book. She expressed such things as naming for
protection and mentioned that each of her 7 brothers had
the first name Jose, after St. Joseph. She recommended
that we read Victor Villa Senor's RAIN OF GOLD. We
discussed the tradition of women and food, and wondered
if this tradition would continue. We talked about the title:
"House of Houses"--we create houses, does this mean an
imaginary house, do they all collapse into one, like a
Russian doll?
Nevertheless, following the Dubois meetings I believe the
memoir series is fundamentally quite strong. A number of
people told me that this was the best group of books
they‘d read among the book discussion offerings. Even so,
they all seemed to opt for novels for next year. Novels,
they said, make for better discussions. I‘m not sure if that‘s
true or not, but I would be inclined to agree that novels
make for livelier discussions. In criticizing a memoir, most
people feel like they‘re criticizing the author or the author‘s
life, and by extension, the lives of those in the group who
identify with the author. There‘s a certain tentativeness
when discussing memoirs which doesn‘t seem as
prevalent when discussing fiction.
ALL BUT THE WALTZ
I think this may have been the group's (as a whole)
favorite of the series, probably because of similar
background. We discussed women's anger, the
inside/outside woman, the ultimate cowboy, the fierce
pride of the rural/poor West (privacy, isolation) and the
theme of family. We said a memoir is a memory, whether
it's correct or not. Mary's second husband promised her
the waltz but never carried through; we discussed
promises, stoicism in the wind.
Still, there are always a few people who love (or hate)
each of the books, and their commentaries seem to drive
the discussions. Many of the powerful comments begin, "I
really identified with this author because her life was
similar to mine in the following respects . . .." Such a
pronouncement makes for great, personal dialogues within
the group, but it also greatly tempers counter-opinions.
BRONX PRIMITIVE
From immigrant to cosmopolitan, Kate Simon was a city
child who "studied" people. She was frank in her
descriptions of her home life and her community. Though
she grew in in a time of anti-Semitism, she lived in a
closed, Jewish world. This was memoir as social history,
describing "green cousins," patriarchs, etc. Someone
noted that there were no dogs. . .
Dubois is a rock. The organizers, Mary Ellen and Sondra,
always do a terrific job of preparing, promoting and
conducting the logistics of the sessions. We always have
nice refreshments, which make the evenings rather like
warm little social events (which is how they should be).
Dubois library is cozy, especially on those howling winter
nights. The love for reading and discussing literature is
powerful in this town. Dubois would be my example of the
raison d‘etre of WCH‘s book discussion series.
AN AMERICAN CHILDHOOD
This was my series favorite, since one of my all-time
favorite books is PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK. I don't
think, however, that many in the group felt that way at all.
Of course, Dillard was more upper-middle class than most
of us. But she conveyed such a strong sense of childhood
Peter Anderson
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("that long suspended interval between terror and anger,"
and "I was a dog barking between my own ears, " etc.),
that she had me captivated. But, here again, she selected
what to include in this memoir and what to leave out (like
her 15th year, which she apparently spent in Wyoming!).
Barbara pointed out that Homewood, where Dillard went to
the library, was where Wideman's trilogy took place. We
discussed Dillard's quitting the church, her parents living
lives separate from the children's, how we develop our
values, and Dillard's compulsive need to master
everything. The only television that figured in the book was
an evening new telecast. (This was the fifties, when
television was taking over living rooms all over America!)
Everything she said about poetry (some poems exhale-fall of beauty and longing; some inhale--power and threats
and vows) and reading (exhuming lost continents and
plundering their stories) spoke to my life. And I loved the
poem she quoted from, by the unknown poet: "we grow to
the sound of the wind playing his flutes in our hair." But
her intensity was beyond me. The group decided that no,
the music would never be loud enough for Dillard!
history in a systematic way. Others had little or no
knowledge of their parent‘s young lives, so felt they had
nothing of that sort to relay to their own children. Our
differences lead to interesting discussions of why writers
would be compelled to so closely examine self and family,
and record their findings in such a public way. We did not
examine this issue in as much detail as I‘d have liked, but
perhaps that is the agenda-driven teacher in me talking.
I thought all the titles worked well in this series, and would
advocate keeping them all, especially Coming of Age in
Mississippi. I know that finding copies Road Song is
problematic and that other titles are being tried. Further, I
notice as I read other scholars comments that it seems
only humanities scholars like Annie Dillard‘s book. Not that
that is a reason to replace it… but if there is ever a reason
to select a new book for a series, I suggest Mary
McCarthy‘s Memories of a Catholic Girlhood. Not only is it
considered the grandmother of all memoirs, I think it
covers many important themes and goes a step further.
McCarthy takes a careful look at the role of memory and
fiction in creating a memory of childhood from the
perspective of adulthood. So not only is the book about
religion, families, prejudice, and self-actualization, it is
about the act of memoir. I think it‘d be a good addition.
This series is especially good for the connections that can
be made among the books about the construction of
memory, and for the sociological discussions it invokes. It
seems to lend itself more than some of the other series to
strong feelings for or against some of the books, partly, I
think, because of the nature of memoir where the story is
unabashedly about the writer herself. Another advantage
of this series is that the books are generally short enough
and accessible enough that the participants DO get them
read. In that respect, I'm glad we got ROAD SONG back
instead of HOUSE OF HOUSES which was the
replacement the other time I did this series. I wouldn't
recommend changing a thing about this series.
Julianne Couch
All But the Waltz
Monday night, 13 October saw eight regular readers
gathered to discuss Mary Clearman Blew‘s memoir, All
But the Waltz: A memoir of Five Generations in the Life of
a Montana Family. Joining us was none other then
Reading Wyoming‘s own Jenny Ingram. After Jenny
introduced herself—clearly I should have spent some time
curled up with a volume of Miss Manners—she briefly
fielded questions, reviewed some of Reading Wyoming‘s
other literary opportunities and clarified a few
administrative points.
Norleen Healy
The strength of this series was rooted in its participants,
who had a strong interest in the notion of sharing one‘s life
story with descendents. Many of the discussions started
off with an examination of the book, followed before long
with personal reminiscences by group members. In some
way this personal reminiscence could be viewed as a
weakness, because it was not always possible to extract
and comment upon broad humanities themes while
someone revealed personal history. Further, personal
discussion sometimes lead us down the, I think,
dangerous road of ―gossip‖ about the life of the author.
Comments directed at the memoirists such as ―…why
didn‘t the family just…‖ or ―…why didn‘t she simply…‖
were common and at times made me very uncomfortable.
On the plus side, the participants‘ inclination toward
personal revelation opened up for us the matter I wanted
to focus on the most: ―Why write a memoir?‖.
Our first point of discussion covered whether or not Albert
Hoagland‘s death was intentional or a product of some
newly sprung dementia? Clearly the author leans toward
―intentional‖ when she writes:
But so strongly did he believe in the mythic Montana of the
past, of inarticulate strength and honor, and courage lost, that I
cannot escape the conviction that a conscious choice shaped
the way he died,‖ (45).
Regardless of speculation the official family memory is set
by Cousin Willie. Blew writes:
. . . I wondered then and I wonder now, what did Willie really
see that afternoon on the dirt road southeast of Miles City? Or
think he saw, or want us to believe he saw? None of us will
ever know, not even Willie. The myth has its grip on us
all.[emphasis added] (55).
The group shared a good deal about the story telling
culture of their own families of origin, and in turn, their own
families. Most had a fair share of family history related by
parents and grandparents, which they in turn felt was
important to impart to their children. Some did so formally,
through recorded journals and even video tapes. Others
were interested in genealogy so recorded the family
We didn‘t explore this notion--of how stories are
established initially and solidified by every retelling—as
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much as I would have liked but there seems to be
examples in each book in this Ordinary Lives series.
And we talked about the series as a whole, the differences
in the women, the writing styles, and Blew's theories of
memory -- childhood vs adult. Altogether, it was a terrific
conversation.
From this idea of memory we went on to discuss the way
the Judith Creek ranch community viewed their Hutterite
neighbors. This discussion touched on the surprising
notion that the Hutterite colonists had sticky fingers both
around their neighbor‘s ranches and at the stores in
Livingston. Not surprisingly, the established ranchers
resented the ―fur-bearing‖ Christians. One member shed
light on the resentment when she reminded us that the
Hutterite Colonies declared all their holdings churchrelated and thereby avoided the usual taxes. In that light it
became easy to see why the hard-pressed ranchers of the
1930‘s and ‗40‘s would resent this group of outsiders who
seemed to rig the rules. Not all was resentment.
Patty
Similar to the enthusiastic responses of numerous other
groups, All But the Waltz certainly resonated with this
group. (No surprise there!) One reader happily recounted
her excitement when she discovered she recognized the
lyrics of the song the cowpokes sang, as it was one she‘d
heard a relative sing when working cattle. She regretted,
however, not knowing all of the lyrics. Our librarian, Paul,
did a quick search and, lo and behold, found the complete
lyrics at:
One segment that proved particularly engaging related
Erwin Noel‘s decision to work for the WPA at Fort Peck.
This story seemed to come the closest to the traditional
tale of the American Dream with modest reward following
risk and hard work. Perhaps Erwin‘s can-do character or
his departure from a failing lifestyle appealed to the group.
In the end, we ran low on time and energy.
http://www.ledouxcountry.com/discography/Lyrics/TieAKn
otInTheDevilsTail.htm
That set the tone for the evening, with everyone sharing
ranch stories, stories of growing up (in both rural and
urban settings), and thoughtfully reflecting on the types of
people portrayed in Clearman Blew‘s memoirs. The group
expressed appreciation for the author‘s focus on the
women homesteaders/ranchers, as they believed too little
has been written of their trials and triumphs. Much of our
discussion centered on the lonely ordeals of these women
(as well as of others in the book), and the effects their
responses to these tribulations had on their success or
failure. This animated group also considered how these
women also influenced the generations to come,
commenting how various family members – and Clearman
Blew herself--frequently responded to hardships or
difficulties in much the same way as a certain grandparent
or great-grandparent. (I shared e.e.cummings‘ poem
―nobody loses all the time‖ as that work seemed to reflect
that indomitable spirit and the dark humor illustrated in All
But the Waltz).
We spoke of the ―landscape of hope
versus the landscape of reality‖, as it was clear this
Montana landscape was both to this family‘s generations.
We also addressed the landscape‘s influence on the
individual‘s ―interior landscape‖ or character. Many in the
group noted the settlers‘ emphasis on privacy, and their
tolerance of those who might be labeled ―eccentric‖ or
―crazy‖, which stood in vivid contrast with their fear of
cultural differences. Special note was made of the
mother‘s emphasis on her girls‘ education, to ensure that
would have choices; this maternal emphasis contrasted
with the irony in the negative attitudes expressed about
the aunt‘s choice to teach far away. Several commented
how these stories seemed to echo elements of
Steinbeck‘s Grapes of Wrath discussed last year.
Many points were left unexplored when we adjourned, but
everyone in attendance enjoyed our both our special
guest, who dug into the literary fare with the rest of us, and
this offering from Mary Clearman Blew.
Last night six of us discussed this Montana, 5 generation
family, memoir. The group was divided on the like/dislike
scale, but the book is consistent with other reports -- it
generates conversation. The dislike side wanted more
description of the people themselves, disliked the
scattered chronology, and hated the essay about the first
child and the mother's anger against her children. The
likes had no problem with any of these issues.
There was a lot of discussion about women's roles and
parental expectations. The mother who emulated her
mother by disliking her first child; the father who described
his daughter as his "son," the drive for education with no
expectation to use that education. There were lots of
tomboys in the groupwho grew up "working" and not ever
understanding the "girley girl" world of shopping.
Other family idiosyncrasies were compared to the
ranch/pioneer families locally known: morality of pioneer
suicides; Grandma's hired hand/boyfriend who worked the
range until he left stealing some treasures; sibling rivalries
and jealousies.
Other humanities themes touched were: the racism of the
communityand the Hutterite descriptions, which were
comparable reservation and the current Texas polygamist
events; "the great leveler" of the depression years in
Montana and WY and local stories;
Judith Basin location in comparison to WY basin country;
value of landscape to the essays and the people; mining
camp life and the excellent description of tarpaper shake
life, and comparisons to Midwest.
This group of readers also appreciated Clearman Blew‘s
research, her inclusion of family photos with each essay,
and her detailed and poetic style in her depiction of places
and their effect on persons (as in ―his vision, like my
father‘s was linear, it ruled out the faces on the margins or
at the shrunken end of his perspectives, and one of those
faces was mine‖ and ―my grandmother brought with her
the breath of elsewhere‖).
We also discussed her
observations linking her own life with that of her great
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grandparents and grandparents, as well as her
ruminations on how all of those past actions influenced
both her personal and her artistic life. I introduced some
of her comments from the first essay in Bone Deep in
Landscape: Writing, Reading and Place in which the
author further reflects on the nature of memoir, the art of
writing and of the influence of place on identity, attitude
and art. (I highly recommend that work to scholars and to
groups who read All But the Waltz.) We all enjoyed a
diverse, stimulating discussion; it was a very good evening
of book talk!
This book reminded participants of their own family
backgrounds and prompted many personal stories. People
were bothered by its disjunct nature but understood that
each essay is an entity in itself. They were more bothered
by the author's tendency to "leave them hanging"at times,
i.e., not giving all the information that readers think they
need. We all agreed that the second half of the book is
stronger than the first half.
We discussed the problems of displacement and the fear
of cultural differences (a fear we see as widespread, not
just regional). Of course, we talked about families--their
self-perpetuating
nature,
their
strengths,
their
weaknesses, and the need to escape families (sometimes,
at least). We talked about the strong women in the book
and how they held families together. In contrast, the men
seemed to have more problems and some were affected
by the romantic myths of the West.
We resigned
ourselves to the idea that nothing really seems to change;
life repeats itself.
Ebba Stedillie, 2-11-04
There was mixed reaction to this book. Some people got
bogged down at the beginning and did not understand the
purpose of the first essay.
Both times I have discussed this book with groups, people
have been unhappy that the essays are not in
chronological order and have some repetition. The
Medicine Bow folks did not particularly like the author's
writing style and the fact that little of the author could be
seen. Despite these complaints, participants did see that
some of the essays had worth. I provided a family tree,
which made discussion easier.
Group members saw this book as very different from the
others in this series, mainly because the author is writing
more about the lives of other family members and less
about her own.
--Maggie Garner 02-03
We talked a lot about who was "successful" and who was
not, noting that success can be defined in different ways.
Of course, the fact that women were so strong was
discussed. We talked about how the people in the memoir
reflected western American ways of thinking.
(Jackson)
The Jackson group did not have an easy time with this
book. They liked it well enough, but they couldn't come to
grips with its structure, the non-chronological design of the
narrative. A majority of the group apparently felt overly
confused and abused by the way Mary Blew leaps around
in time, and from family branch to family branch. It seemed
to help a lot when I explained that the book had originally
been subtitled "Essays on a Montana Family" rather than
its paperback subtitle, "A Memoir of Three Generations. .
." A semi-random collection of essays made a lot more
sense to them.
Maggie Garner
Interesting discussion in Torrington of All but the Waltz
which focused on the strength of the women, and their
endurance, as opposed to that of the men who were their
husbands, who either died young, couldn‘t succeed as
ranchers, were unable to adapt to the prairie and its
isolation and weather; or, as in the case of Mary Clearman
Blew, were either immersed in the traditional expectations
of women, or mentally ill. It was interesting to note that
although the author had left both of her marriages, she
had retained the last names of the husbands, rather than
the family ―Hogeland‖ and its particular history.
My main interest in this book is the way Mary Blew talks
about memory itself, its untrustworthiness and relativity. I
probed that aspect for a while, and we had some good
commentary about the way family memories differ
radically from person to person and yet shape identity
fiercely and continuously.
They did seem to appreciate the book per se. They
commented positively on the physical descriptions of
Montana, ranching, cold winters, distance and isolation,
"women's" work, storytelling and silence.
The group made an interesting and apt distinction
between cowboy and rancher, attributing the father‘s
failures at the latter to his success at the former. Several
personal observations were made of ranchers and
cowboys here in eastern Wyoming: though many ranchers
are also proficient with cowboy skills, there is nevertheless
a distinct category of hired hand cowboy that seems
unable or uninterested in the additional skills necessary to
manage a ranching operation.
(Dubois)
I passed round a genealogical chart I had made of Mary
Blew's family prior to the Pinedale session on this book,
and that started the discussion off on the right foot.
Everyone felt the same sense of confusion regarding who
was who among her ancestors.
Bob A Brown 02-03
But this group, unlike the Jackson group, wasn't thrown by
the non-chronological structure of the book. They also
weren't defeated by the fatalistic shadow hanging over the
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book as it draws to its conclusion, as were the people in
the Pinedale group. They seemed to read the narrative
more as a straightforward account of what life in that place
at that time was like. They were fascinated by information
concerning Mary Blew's life in the years after the
autobiography concludes. Most said they wanted to read
her follow-up book about her aunt and daughter,
Balsamroot. The Dubois group was particularly interested
in the notion of displacement and those who displace. We
had an engaging and at times caustic debate about
Hutterites (and Mennonites, Amish, etc.) and the way
they're treated by neighbors.
A couple of people found the book to be somewhat
lightweight or underdeveloped. The fact that Mary Blew
didn't know where she was going when she started writing,
for these readers, showed in the finished product. One
person compared the book unfavorably to the all-time
favorite for this group, The Meadow.
Peter Anderson
The discussion of Mary Clearman-Blew's "All But the
Waltz" with the Baggs book group couldn't have been
better. Among the topics covered in our wide-ranging
hour:

the familiar character types that Blew so aptly
captured: the hired ranch-hand, the itinerant
school-teacher...

the doomed fate of those characters who tried to
live the "romance": little Jake, and even her
father, to some extent (who scorned working for
wages)

the blurring of memory and fact in Blew's
account, and her acceptance of this blurring

the dreamlike structure of the book (kind of like
the way memory might work)

the ability of pigs to climb to odd places, whether
or not they mounted that ait

the fear of cultural difference (We thought that
Blew's comment about this was true, but possibly
too narrow, that this fear was more a human trait
than a "Western" one.)

the "writer's connection" Blew had with her greatgrandfather, how both knew the "power of words
to reduce the terror of endlessness"

the escapism of the men; the endurance of the
women

the aunt as role model (it turns out she's the main
subject of Blew's 1994 memoir)

comparisons in style and voice between this book
and Anne Moody's: Blew the professional writer
shaping each image vs. Moody who is lesspolished but perhaps more honest
Because it hits close to home with the members of the
reading group, the discussion of "All But the Waltz" was in
depth about the author's meaning, her motivation and her
perspective on ranching and pioneering life. Most of the
group members come from pioneer and ranching
backgrounds which invited both identification with and a
critical response to Mary Clearman Blew's "take" on her
pioneering family. The discussion focused on a wide range
of issues, such as the cowboy icon and the role it plays in
shaping western men's view of their role, the various ways
women's strength and endurance held ranching families
together, whether the experiences of western settlement
should be interpreted as success or failure or somewhere
in between. Most of my group felt that Blew's view of rural
western life was too pessimistic. In their view, hardships
are balanced with rewards. In comparing this book to
others we've read, the group noted the similar themes of
young women breaking away from the ties of family,
conflict with fathers, lack of closeness to their mothers.
Blew's experience seemed more "ordinary" to this group
than the experiences of previous authors in the series.
Just as we were running out of time, we got to the circular
suggestion of the book, the idea that nothing ever
changes, that family is self-perpetuating, that escape
equals destruction, that lives are roles we're doomed to
act out forever. All that cheerful stuff.
her preference for the "real West" over the
"romantic West"
the importance of family; the importance of
escaping family...
Rick Kempa
(Pinedale)
A straightforward discussion. Unlike other groups, the
Pinedale group didn't struggle much with the nonchronological, piecemeal format of the book. Their biggest
concern was that Mary Blew seems to be such an
essentially unhappy person, which I tried to assure them
isn't true. I know Mary Blew, and she's more stoic than
unhappy.


Marcia Hensley
Most participants said this book was an easier "read" than
the previous two, and several were familiar with its
Montana setting. Most participants could relate to one of
the generations being spoken about. Quite a few had
some problems with the author. One said, "This is not a
person I would want to get to know." They found the
author to be derogatory about her own life and times--for
example, referring to her own newborn child as "scrap."
Good discussion on issues such as racism, sexism, and
classism came from the book. The paradox of the
"freedom" Montana is known for while the intolerance
toward outside groups like Hutterites, Japanese, etc. Most
saw the same issues in Wyoming. Quite a few liked the
chapter on the Ft. Peck Dam--said it was the best written
part of the book. Generally, it was felt the author was
negative about her family's Montana experience, and this
comes through in her writing. "Escape" seems to be the
theme, and it was pointed out her escape was only to
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Idaho. The book however led to great discussion and
participants were keen to the humanities issues.
While everyone seemed to enjoy the book, we kept
circling back to the book's grim tone with comments like
"depressing and confusing," "hard scrabble ranch,"
"searching and regretting," and "the sanest parts were
talking about the work." But folks concluded it was a
"familiar suffering," something to which they could relate.
Warren Murphy
We discussed memory--how it depends on who's telling
the story. We discussed how honest (or not) we thought
Blew was and compared her to L'Engle whom many felt
romanticized her marriage. The group talked a lot about all
the women in the memoir, their strength. It was suggested
that Blew imbues her people with honest qualities--they
are not perfect. We focused lots on Doris!
The many unanswered questions of the book intrigued us:
Why did Blew's father sell a good ranch for a poorer one?
Why didn't the children board in town for school instead of
the family moving closer to a good road? What actually
happened to Blew's father at his death? Why were all the
Welch women so angry all the time? Like life, there's a lot
in the book for which we'll just never have a satisfactory
answer. The conclusion of the memoir seemed bleak to
the participants: "No, it never ends" (Blew 223). Then we
started figuring the chronology of the book and realized
that Blew must have written it immediately after her
separation from her husband and his eventual death. We
decided that she must have still been working through
issues and that, perhaps, the book was part of that
process.
We discussed prejudice toward others, isolation, lack of
opportunity. We discussed the men in the book and spent
a lot of time on men writing about women and women
writing about men. the group split over Mary (author)
herself; why did she make such bad choices? Many
disliked--and found jarring--her focus on her life in the last
chapter.
And all of us want to read Balsamroot.
We discussed a number of humanities-based themes:
Blew's portrayal of the West opposed to "a mythic
Montana of the past" (Blew 45); how we respond to
landscape; the effects of poverty, isolation, and solitude;
the value of work; the roles and depiction of women; the
roles and depiction of men; patriarchy; depression and
other forms of mental illness; suspicion of the other and
living with other cultures; the value of family stories; the
basis of identity; and the myths we create (and what those
myths do to our lives).
I led off with bio. information and a discussion of Raban's
book Bad Land (set in Montana in the same time frame).
Marcia Hensley
The Rock Springs group discussion of All But the Waltz
was small but enthusiastic. We delved into the main
themes: the depiction of the real west instead of the
romantic west; the contrast of the women, who endured
through all the bleakness and solitude, with the men,
whose spirit or bodies ended up broken; the suspicion of
the outsider; the power of landscape; the importance of
telling the family stories, of putting language to the faded
old photographs before even the names, let alone the
stories, are lost. We traced a couple of interesting patterns
through the various books in the series: One, the
constricting and non-supportive environments that the
women are often faced with, whether in the immediate
family (as with Blew, Moody, Simon) or in the larger social
spheres (Blew, Moody, Simon, Dillard, Kusz). Secondly,
we remarked on how most of the women in the series
were helped, and in some cases rescued, by mentors:
how the journey to growth is seldom solitary, how the
presence of others is required.
Some of the participants were familiar with Mark Spragg's
new memoir Where Rivers Change Directions. We thought
it made a useful pairing with Blew's book.
Deb Koelling
Usually, groups respond well to this book, but that didn't
seem to be the case this time. The first and strongest
complaint was about its structure. Readers didn't like the
patchwork approach to telling a family story. I pointed out
that the book had originally been sub-titled "Essays on a
Montana Family," a sub-title subsequently changed when
the paperback was released, perhaps to capitalize on the
memoir trend. The idea of a collection of essays not
necessarily designed to relay a family history but to
explore an individual's identity seemed to sit better with
the group.
The research materials that were most helpful to me were
the book reviews from the New York Times, the
Smithsonian, Kirkus Review and Western American
Literature. Also of great help, as usual, were the written
comments of other discussion leaders on their approaches
and experiences with the book!
We spent some time talking about secretiveness - there
seems to be a fair amount of it in Mary Blew's family, and
perhaps in the text itself. We talked about the nature of
memory, partly because I think this book is strongest when
it's seen as a discourse on the act of remembering, so I
pushed the point. We talked about the various reasons
people write memoirs apart from just journalistically
documenting self-history. We talked again about the
difference between memoir and autobiography, between
inspection and introspection.
Rick Kempa
. . . A couple participants were familiar with the Judith
Basin area described in the book and affirmed the beauty
of the area.
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connection came up in the discussion of Blew's
Grandfather Abraham's writings -- on scraps of receipts,
pieces of cardboard, backs of envelopes, etc. It's almost
as if that's the way Blew's narrative pieces together.
Peter Anderson
We began by talking about Blew's approach to family
[memoirs?]--an openly admitted blend of memory, records,
and invention, and we discussed how each of us had the
power to do the same for ourselves and our families.
We had done the Stegner book Where the Bluebird...last
year, so it was recent enough to pull in some of his
themes about the "myth" vs. the reality of the West that
are so prominent in this book. A great observation one
person made was that the scene where the Indians are
looking through the wrong end of the telescope and seeing
everything at a distance and as though through a tunnel
was highly ironic. The settlers were found this to be a big
joke and really maybe the joke was on them considering
the distorted vision of the West they held in coming to
Montana.
Moving on to the book's themes, we discussed at length
the gender roles that Blew sets up-- to men as causalities,
to women as survivors, and we sought to understand how
and why these roles occurred. With strong input from our
most elderly member, a woman in her 80s, who gave vivid
and memorable first-hand accounts from her childhood,
we explored the life and times of early 20th century
ranchers, and the grim point of view that the book
presents.
Even those who were dubious about Blew's narrative had
to admit to the distinct sense of 'place' that presents itself
throughout. We looked at some quite beautiful descriptive
passages that diminish the negativeness of much of the
narrative. Blew is indeed "deep-bone in landscape." Of
course we talked about the roles of the men vs. the
women and had a lengthy discussion on the motherdaughter/ father-daughter relationship and compared them
to those in our last book, Road Song .
Finally, we continued tracing one of this group's favorite
themes--that of the outsider, by looking closely at Blew's
chapter in the Hutterite Colony and its uneasy, at best,
relation with the other ranchers.
Rick Kempa (Green River group)
We discussed the significance of the title as revealed in
the last section about Blew and her second husband.
Among the many ironies we discussed was the fact that
this husband was like her father and many of the male
characters in the memoir -- seeking that dream out there
somewhere and destroying themselves in the process.
The Lyman crew enjoyed "Waltz" much more than Annie
Dillard's An American Childhood, and they could clearly
express why: Clearman Blew's writing is much less selfaware. Her voice is clear and honest. They liked that it
was a memoir going back five generations & not an
egocentric look at the author alone. The women of Bridger
Valley felt they could relate with the people in the book,
living in a very [similar?] setting as the Judith River Valley
of central Montana. Sharing this relation was a large part
of the discussion, which, I think, was worthwhile. And
since Bridger Valley is largely LDS, they have much in
common with the trials of the Hutterites of the Palouse.
Norleen Healy
Several in the group identified with Mary‘s childhood on
remote ranches, and shared anecdotes about their
experiences. Most of those present had participated in the
Community and the Western Landscape series, and
related some of Blew‘s observations to books in that
series, e.g., the myth of the west versus its reality, the
dramatic changes to the landscape as a result of ranching
and farming, and the remarkable resistance to ―outsiders‖
and change.
Jon Billman (Lyman group)
My response to this one [see above] is that one of the
reasons for reading these books is to be exposed to a
society different than the one we know. I might or might
not have said that in a group discussion - depending who
was in the group.
The isolation of the women was discussed, as well as the
expectation by the father that Mary would stay in ranching
and his anger when she didn‘t. Grammy (widowed
grandmother) elicited the most respect and interest, as
she seemed to resonate with participants‘ experiences of
life on the prairie, and their family histories of
homesteading and ranching. Personal comparisons were
also made with Mary‘s extended family and relationships.
Norma Christensen (Worland)
Not unexpectedly, we started the discussion with a lot of
people complaining about the "disjointed" nature of the
narrative, but right away go into the nature of memory that
Blew explores and agreed that, in many ways, the way this
memoir is constructed reflects the way memories work.
Also, someone pointed out that the disjointedness also
reflects the book thematically in that so many of the
people in the narrative start off in directions that don't work
out and end up somewhere completely different - and
rarely, if ever, in a better place. And yet another
I had just read Balsamroot by Blew, and while the group
members weren‘t particularly interested in details of this
―sequel,‖ I recommend it to discussion leaders.
After
reading and studying All But the Waltz, I couldn‘t put it
down.
Bob A. Brown
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things left out of the book as well as the things put in. It
was a good discussion!!
Judging by past scholars' comments on this book, the
Eppson Center group was no exception in the amount of
nostalgia All but the Waltz provoked. Sure, there were
issues the discussion could have covered more, such as
racism and the changing face of the West. But the sharing
of personal and family histories by the group members
was so interesting to me and to each other it didn't feel
right for me to try to take the discussion any other
directions. This was the first memoir of the series where
the group could really "see" themselves in the life of the
writer. I think that identification will help them form a
definition of what memoir is, and more importantly, why
the heck anybody would write anything so intimate. I think
such a definition will help the members, many of whom are
very interested in finding a way to record personal stories
for family posterity. I'm not sure if we'll reach my mini-goal
of exploring memoir as an art form, but we're doing lots of
good stuff along the way.
Norma Christensen
I started out the Cheyenne discussion of "All But the
Waltz" by Mary Clearman Blew by passing around a
summary of the genealogy of the Hogeland family and the
Welch family as they are described in the book. Since
Blew jumps around both in time and from one branch of
her family to the other I thought the genealogy chart would
help the group mentally sort out all the characters. I then
asked the group for some general comments on the
memoir. Because of this genealogy chart many of the
early comments centered on the parts of the book that
members found confusing such as the fact that
grandmother Welch, great-grandmother Hogeland and the
author were all Mary's, etc. I pointed out that the original
subtitle of the book was "Essays on a Montana Family"
rather than the current subtitle of "Memoir of Five
Generations...". Group members agreed that the nonchronological style made more sense when thought of as
a group of essays centering on the ! author's family rather
than a linear memoir. I also brought up the trend in the
book from male focused chapters in the beginning
(Abraham, Jack, Little Jake) to female focused chapters in
the second half of the book (Grandma Edna, Imogene,
Doris and Mary) and we discussed the possible
significance of that.
Julianne Couch
This was the last discussion meeting of the year, and the
energy level was low, with limited self-initiation. One
member, in response to my teasing about this, said ―we‘ve
already gone through all this!‖ In general, the group was
put off by Blew‘s grim tone, and my sharing that another
BDG leader had characterized her as stoic brought
chuckles but also so what? We compared her apparent
attitude about her past (including her family‘s) with Doig‘s
similar experiences but very different tone in This House
of Sky in last year‘s Community and the Western
Landscape series. I raised all the standard motifs (aptly
described in other BDG leaders‘ comments) and shared
what I thought were particularly evocative descriptive
passages. The group acknowledged these, but there was
little sustained discussion about any of them. One
member teased me that the ―rabble rousers‖ (the groups
two outspoken extraverts) weren‘t present.
Group members also related positively to the ranching life
since many had similar experiences growing up. A couple
of the older members briefly shared some of their personal
experiences growing up in very small towns or on isolated
farms or ranches. We then spoke a few minutes on the
unreliability of memory (an issue Blew brings up early in
the first chapter) and the author's prerogative to include
only the parts of their lives they want to discuss in a
memoir. We mentioned examples of a few authors who
seem to focus only on the negative and others who
focused only on the positive. In the case of "All But the
Waltz" the Cheyenne book group members appreciated
Blew's honesty, for example, in the chapter "The
Unwanted Child" she shares her complicated feelings
during her first pregnancy at the age of 19. We discussed
the reasons she gives for marrying so young and the
conflicts between her and her parents regarding her
refusal to come back to live on the ranch (her father's
expectation) or become a school teacher (her mother's
expectation). We also discussed the striking difference
between the portrayal of the women in the memoir (strong
and capable) with the men (who die young or lose it
mentally in the end). Since the name of the series is
"Ordinary Lives" I like to always ask people if the author's
life was ordinary. This group's first inclination was that
Blew's life was more ordinary than Dillard's or L'Engle's
(the other authors we've read so far in this series) because
it's more similar to their own experiences, but we agreed
that to someone from a big city in the eastern part of the
U.S. Blew's life on the ranch would seem exotic and
Dillard's life among the very rich in Pittsburgh and
L'Engle's life on Broadway might seem more ordinary.
The group spent time deciding on three books and
discussion leaders (members of the group) for an
additional three meetings. This has been a tradition with
this group for several years, and seems a useful indicator
of the success of these series here in Lusk. They also
began discussing the available series for next year.
Bob Brown
The Ten Sleep group had a discussion of All But the Waltz
which was filled with some nostalgia. Many of the things
Blew writes about are familiar to the participants in their
own "settling" of the Ten Sleep area. Most of the members
are long time residents of Ten Sleep and have been a part
of the history which is similar to what Blew writes about. A
couple people had even lived in the areas described in the
book. It was an interesting evening - many reminisced
about their own experiences. All were swept up with
Blew's writing style, and some even felt sorry for her
second husband. There was some discussion about the
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Once again we had a great time and a very lively
discussion.
Clearman and Bob Blew (did you already know these last
names?).
--Elaine Hayes
THE WOMEN:
Mary Hogeland
Edna Hogeland
Doris Hogeland
Mary Hogeland Clearman Blew
Mary Welch
Sylva Welch Noel
Imogen Welch
Rachel (Blew?)
Three participants came to the Torrington Senior Center to
discuss All But the Waltz. One had not read the book, as
she didn't know they were provided by WCH and had been
waiting to receive a copy from inter-library loan. Each of
these elderly ladies, each of whom had been widowed for
some years, came from High Plains homestead ranch or
farm families and had raised their own families on their or
their husband's family lands. The limited but interesting
discussion dealt primarily with their own experiences
growing up and then living most of their adult lives in rural
settings, which two of them were able to compare with the
memoir by Mary Clearman Blew.
THE MEN:
Abraham Hogeland
Albert Hogeland
Jack Hogeland
A.P. Welch
Ervin Noel (Fort Peck, etc.)
Bill Hafer
Husband #1 (Ted Clearman)
Husband #2 (Bob Blew)
Jake
This was the first meeting for a newly formed group at the
senior center in Torrington. There seemed to be only eight
or nine signed up for the series. In my experience, there
needs to be a minimum of a dozen signed up in order to
reliably have at least eight participants for any given
discussion, and eight has been the minimum for a good
discussion to develop. The three ladies at this meeting
would be wonderful members of a real discussion group,
but less than eight can't accomplish this.
THE WEST:
Myth versus reality, and their effects
Ownership of, and its effects
Identity with
Naming
Controlling
Solitude and isolation
Defeat by
--Bob Brown
I began this discussion by dividing the large group (10)
into three small groups. I asked each of these to prepare
comments about their assigned topic: the women in the
book, the men, and the "west". I handed out pens and
paper with the lists of, e.g., the women, men, etc., so that
each person had the materials needed for their own as
well as their small group's thoughts and ideas. I am
attaching these page headings, in case any of you might
want to use this approach. I wasn't sure how this would
work out, as I had tried it a few years ago with this group
and the response was negative. This time, the response
was remarkably energetic and productive; the feedback at
the end of the discussion was also very positive. It was
even necessary, after about 20 minutes, to ask the small
groups to wrap up their preparations and come back
together. The discussion that followed was among the
best I have witnessed for this group.
--Bob Brown
Although the book's chronology was problematic for some,
most did not seem too disturbed by the style. We
discussed how Blew's style correlates to memory itself,
coming in fragments and not always in linear form. Also,
how perhaps it resembles Abrahams scraps of paper and
bits of notes, trying to capture the essence of place before
it is transformed forever.
The book exposed many topics of discussion for this
group. Some were schoolteachers themselves, some
making a living from the land. Wringer washers, we kept
coming back to them and our own stories of washday.
Many were struck by the contrast between the romantic
cowboy and real life obeying and ranching. A couple of
easterners shared their thoughts of the West prior to
moving here.
Their comments, and the following participatory comments
from others in the larger group, followed pretty much what
has been noted in the several other notes about this book:
the strength and endurance of the women and the limited
roles available for them; the patriarchal expectations of
and behaviors by the men; the hardships associated with
solitary life on the prairie and its capacity to both drive
people away, and nurture a distinct love for and
identification with its landscape and weather; and those
who were destroyed by these former characteristics. This
was a very enjoyable group discussion for the participants,
including me. And, in a remote high school biographical
essay on the web, I found that Mary's husbands were Ted
We discussed many issues briefly-mother/daughter
relationships; women's endurance vs. mens capitulation;
race; privacy; the silences (what happened to Dave?
Helena boy? What about those other children of hers?);
Edna & Bill's relationship; the amount of NOISE in our
lives.
A few members related their own experiences living on the
land in hard times or in a foreign country (Turkey) and how
many parallels there are to homesteading and the living
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conditions of a large portion of the world. Another member
(a spanish speaker learning English) thought it was
wonderful how Ms. Blew could show people from other
perspectives than our own and how much we can differ.
occurs when the myth is at some variance with practical
experience. The psychological principle of cognitive
dissonance hold. One either shifts the myth, or adopts a
new one, or denies some part of reality to fit the myth in
order to hold on to the myth. People spoke of this in
particular reference to the myth of ranching, and the rather
more exhausting reality.
Interestingly, not much was brought up about Jack's death
and what that meant for the family. The two Grannies
generated the most discussion. I brought up some minor
characters, such as Little Jake and Mrs. Kuhn, and would
have like to talked about Laura Watters, Frenchy, the
surveyors, the man with the dead bodies in the wagon, the
Weir brothers, the Fort Peck crowd-so many people.
We also discussed the role of family in defining identity what it meant to be a Hogeland, and why they often
married each other. Blew makes clear how central the
family was, especially for those far enough from town to
be home schooled. We also noted the issues of prejudice,
especially as it was seen in the relationship between the
Hutterites and the other settlers, and glancingly in
Abraham's notes about the few remaining Native
Americans. We also noted the parallel prejudices and
divisions that began to occur within the family, and its
gradual dissolution.
I think most members felt that this was a well crafted book
with many important insights into tradition and family that
is so relevant to so many westerners. A big point was the
sacrifices homesteaders made to get and keep the land
and how that impacts the breaking up and selling of those
same homesteads today by a different generation.
--Kim Knowlton
Finally, we discussed the uses of writing, and art
generally, in human culture. We discussed its use as an
attempt to grasp the otherwise ungraspable (Abraham's
attempt to deal with the terror of endlessness). I recalled
Pasternak's statement, through Yuri Shivago, the art is an
insane attempt to stop time. Art, then, limits experience
and evokes its fullness at the same time.
One Jackson participant raised the issue of the
chronology, and had created a family tree for herself. Most
of the participants, however, did not find the structure of
the book an impediment. In fact, they believed that it fitted
the whole idea of story telling, as opposed to linear history,
better than a straight chronological narrative would have.
That, of course, led us immediately to what is becoming
one of the central humanities themes of the series: the
relationship between memory and "fact," (if there is such a
thing), between history and story telling. We began with
the story of the pigs on the ait in the middle of the flood on
the Judith River, and Blew's assertion that the possibility
for connection lies in the story. We also discussed the
metaphoric centrality of the pig story - beings struggling to
find a place to survive in the face of seemingly
insurmountable odds presented by nature.
--Stephen Lottridge
The Sundance Book Club's discussion of All But the Waltz
kicked off with what was weighing most on people's minds:
did Jack Hoagland purposefully commit suicide, and how?
We never came to an agreement on this, but the question
did lead into a few comments about reality vs. myth. When
Blew was told of her father's death, did she receive the
mythical version or the truth? The group decided that
many of the men in the book live in that mythical West and
so deceived themselves, as Blew's husband, Bob, did, or
saw their world crumble when the reality of the Depression
and the end of the cowboy way of life caught up with them.
In contrast, the women lived in the real world, and their
strength and influence is very evident in Blew's life. The
group members thought it was interesting that women in
this book neither go crazy nor kill themselves, unlike other
books they had read about woman homesteaders. They
also noted the influence of landscape on men and women,
how Doris was filled with rage, how A.P lost his mind, how
the landscape transformed Albert into a mythic hero, and
how Blew herself saw this landscape as a trap.
In this connection, we also discussed the relationship to
the land, and the way in which the idea of ownership,
based on national law and on surveying, stands in
opposition to a deeper connection to the land, as it is
presented in the book. We discussed the differences
between the idea of land ownership, and other visions of
land stewardship, noting the virtues and limitations of both.
People discussed the way that political and economic
ambitions, many of which underlay the Homestead Acts,
are at variance with actual conditions on the ground and
the best stewardship of the land.
The group made some comparisons to Giants in the Earth
and Steinbeck's books, and many of the older group
members shared their own stories of grandparents that
never learned to drive, never had electricity, and built
soddies on the plains. We spent some time remarking on
the dramatic changes that those who lived through the
20th century went through, the "quantum leap" of
experiencing the first flight, the first car, the first electricity,
the first man on the moon…
Participants noted the relative destructability of the men,
as compared to the women,though no one was quite sure
exactly why that was so. That led to a discussion of the
myth of the cowboy, and its survival well after the actual
time of the cowboy, on a horse, anyway, had passed. That
led to a fascination, extended discussion of the importance
of myth in human life in general. I introduced Bateman's
observation that humans, as a species, generate
explanatory principles in order to try to make sense out
observation and experience. Myth is essentially an
explanatory principle. Part of the struggle of human life
Overall, some of us found the book depressing, but not all.
Many found the author to be bitter, though in real life she
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Pieces which led to a good dialogue about how far a
memoir should be allowed to go. I talked about that whole
genre of ―creative non-fiction‖ as exemplified by such
works as In Cold Blood . We did return to a discussion of
All But the Waltz eventually and we did examine some of
the themes: isolation, the ―cowboy‖ ethic, the pull of the
land, and the historical background (the depression, the
building of the dam, etc.). Most had passages marked to
read. Interestingly, it was our last meeting and we had
two new people as well as the other ―regulars‖.
apparently is not. (One member had heard her speak at a
workshop). Many found the book anti-romantic, and this
book elicited the most connections and personal stories of
any of the books.
--Kathy Bjornestad
The ladies in Ranchester/Dayton liked the book a lot, as I
knew they would. They knew exactly the locale. Several
of them are part of, or come from, long time
Wyoming/Montana ranching families. They could identify
with most all the characters one way or another. The book
evoked lots of personal and family stories from the group.
It surprises me to learn that the idea that Hutterites are
notorious thieves seems to be widespread and generally
accepted as fact by people in this area. We talked a lot
about the isolation and deprivation and how that affects
people, especially the women. We talked about the pull of
the land on the inhabitants, even those, like Mary
Clearman Blew, who desperately want to escape it.
–Norleen Healy
The Newcastle group met on May 11, 2011, in the Weston
County Library meeting room. Ten members gathered to
discuss All but the Waltz, by Mary Clearman Blew. With
several regulars absent, we realized we have a core group
this year of about 15 members who always read the book
and attend frequently; in general, our group liked the
series this year more than the last couple of series.
The group members enjoyed looking at a map of the
Judith River area and discussing the Montana setting of
the book, as well as the various stories the author shared
from her family members‘ lives. We all agreed, however,
that it was difficult to keep track of all the family members
Blew included in her book of essays. When we discussed
that element—essays, rather than chapters in the book—
the members realized why the ―plot‖ had felt different. We
also discussed the effect of the author‘s use of a family
photograph at the beginning of each section, which was
then described in detail in the next few pages.
Without my prompting the group, they recognized why the
author frames the book with the story of her great
grandfather, Abraham, and his need to write. We looked
at common threads throughout all the essay or stories.
In spite of how much they liked the book and respected its
veracity, they were reluctant about the author. They felt it
was hard to get a true picture of her…that there was an
underlying anger, even bitterness, in her. They worried
about that baby she had early in her first marriage that she
so clearly didn‘t want nor felt any connection to when he
was born, and they wanted more information about the
gap between that period and the 15 or more years later
when she resumes her story. They felt she left too many
pieces unaccounted for.
In talking about the complexity of Blew‘s family tree, we
looked at several templates for doing one‘s family tree and
some members took blanks with them to try out. One
member brought a booklet prepared by her aunt, which
told of the ancestors she was able to research. It included
many pictures and was a real gift to her family.
We appreciated the technique of using photographs to
evoke her memories and, hence, stories (which I pointed
out may explain why certain details are left out of her
narration -- it‘s made up of ―snapshots‖). We compared
the style of her memoir to that of the others in the series.
It‘s been interesting to see the group come to their own
understanding of memoir writing as they go through the
series.
The one-room schools described in the book intrigued us,
particularly the hard work involved for the teacher. Some
of our members had attended a country school, so several
shared stories and impressions. The article I brought
described one-room schools in MT, WY, MN, NE and CA;
however, it was written in 1986, so the data was old. The
last country school in our area closed in the 1980s, but we
speculated that there are still a few operating in WY.
-Norleen Healy, Ranchester
Next we discussed the Hutterites, which were described
quite a bit in the book. One of our members grew up in
MT and was able to elaborate on some of the descriptions
in the book. I had brought information from a Hutterwite
website, but she added specifics she remembered from
her childhood as well as from recent visits. Many of us
know a woman in our community who grew up in a
Hutterite colony but who married outside and has lived
here for at least 20 years.
Clearmont Library
March 23, 2006
We finished our series with this book. I thought it would
be a favorite because it would strike such a note of
familiarity since Clearmont is also pretty isolated and the
participants in the group tend to be mostly from ranching
families. I was wrong though. They didn‘t like the
―disjointedness,‖ and they found the tone cold. One
person said she was put off right away by the story of the
pigs at the beginning and how Blew realizes how faulty her
memory of that event was. This got us into a discussion
again of the nature of memory and of memoirs. Someone
brought up that whole controversy over A Million Little
Finally, we talked about Mary Clearman Blew as a
professor in Idaho, where she teaches writing. Her style
as an author reflects some of the writing principles she
stresses with her students: write what you know about,
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and always consider how the reader brings an individual
perception to the literary experience.
ALL BUT THE WALTZ, the meaning of the tale might
mean one thing to the person to whom the event happens,
and quite another to Blew as she recounts it to us. We
spent a lot of time on the topic of fact versus memory.
Wherein lies the truth? Then we shifted gears and look
ed at the lives of the women in the memoir - hard, boring,
unrewarding, unsuccessful - for the most part. Blew
couldn't wait to escape. But did she, or did she really want
to? Even in Idaho (not much of an escape), she visits
Montana, and more importantly, continues to mine her
family, especially its women, for other memoirs. We
talked about Montana as a character in the book, the
romantic west versus the real west, teaching as the only
off the ranch occupation for women, why the men seemed
more vulnerable than the women, and the loneliness of
this life. In the end we compared the memoirs. We liked
the series as it lent itself to many area of discussion,
especially how we live, what we value, and how one
endures. Everyone had a favorite among the four books
and hardly anyone agreed!
Phyl Sundstrom
All but the Waltz by Mary Clearman Blew was discussed
by 6 people at the Upton Library on Aug. 16, 2012. The
clarity of the book was questioned as it seems disjointed
until one realizes that it is a collection of essays. Blew
likes to collect quilts and views them as part of her
heritage. This memoir seemed also to be a quilt.
Everyone thought that the last part was the most clearly
written acknowledging that it was the most personal part of
the book. It was not a retold memory. Blew told the story
of the pigs to serve as a disclaimer about the reliability of
memory. Much goes into making a memory, but it is so
different for every person witnessing the same event.
The women in this memoir seemed to be hard working
survivors. The men were hard working, but were in pursuit
of elusive dreams that turned them into casualties. Ervin
Noel seemed to be the exception, but he escaped
Montana. Surviving seemed to mean escaping the Judith
River basin. The aunt became the role model for Blew and
her rebellion against what was expected of her. The
thought that it is necessary to ―escape‖ an area to be
successful is present in almost all areas. Perhaps it is
what motivates people to get out of the predicted life path.
Barbara Gose
Twelve ladies gathered at the Pine Bluffs branch of the
Laramie County Library System to discuss All But the
Waltz by Mary Clearman Blew. I started the discussion by
reading a short biography of the author and then asking if
the group enjoyed the book. To my surprise no one
seemed very enthusiastic. I expected the group to identify
with Blew‘s Montana ranching background. I think the
group did find many aspects of the memoir familiar but
they were put off by the over-riding negativity of the
essays and the author‘s choice to move back and forth at
random through time. They also preferred last month‘s
memoir, Two Part Invention by Madeleine Le‘Engle to All
But the Waltz in content and writing style. The nonsequential essays in Blew‘s book made things very
confusing and it was hard to keep all the characters in
your head at once. I shared a little ancestry chart that I‘d
drew while reading to keep all the characters straight. I
was very struck with the strange story that begins the
book, about the ―sow in the river‖ and that her father told
her that her memory of this incident wasn‘t real, and that it
was in fact impossible because pigs don‘t swim. I thought
it was an interesting choice for a first essay in a book. I
suggested to the group my theory that the author was in
effect putting the reader ‗on notice‘ that this was her story
from her point of view and that it may not reflect reality
from the point of view of anyone else concerned.
The dislike of the Hutterites prompted much discussion.
The different and unknown make people react in negative
ways. That had lessened, but the focus of the fear has
changed. People generally have phobias, but 9/11 created
fears of different groups (Must be human nature).
The group read the book, but did not sing loud praise of it
nor did they criticize it heavily. It seemed a typical
description of life during those times. The group was
certain that there were good happy times in the author‘s
life, but those were not included here. One member
commented that the sections about other people in the
story were not particularly interesting because personality
is not present in the retold memories. She suggested we
should use that as motivation to write our own stories so
that our personality is displayed by us and not how
someone else sees us.
Betty Strong
One of the first comments made was that the
homesteader‘s life was such a hard life for the women in
the Hogeland family and that none of the women in the
book seemed to enjoy the ranching life. But on the other
hand the women were depicted as much stronger
emotionally then the men, who all died early from
accidents, suffered from dementia or took their own lives.
The ladies mentioned the extreme isolation of the
Hogeland family, who rarely saw anyone who wasn‘t
related to them. This prompted stories from several group
members who remember that their families rarely got off
the farm or ranch when they were young either. One group
member who has lived all her life in this area mentioned
We were a smaller group of six tonight in Lander to
discuss our last memoir in the series. I began by
suggesting other western memoirs for the group to
consider reading. And then I read a passage from
BREAKING CLEAN, a memoir about another Montana
woman who chafes at the constraints of the gender role
set for her. Following this, after a brief discussion of what
to read of Stegner's books, I brought Blew's biography up
to date, including her newest memoir, THIS IS NOT THE
IVY LEAGUE. Most folks had not finished our memoir, but
planned to do so. We did proceed to talk about memoir
and memory, who has the right to tell a story, and how the
story will differ according to who is telling it. In the case of
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that a trip to the ‗big‘ town of Pine Bluffs was an event and
that the family went into Cheyenne (40 miles away) only
once per year to shop for school clothes.
successful at seeming childlike in some areas then in
others. The level of sophistication gave the writer away.
But we found other things to admire.
I asked about favorite characters and Grandma Edna,
Aunt Imogene and Jake (the Hutterite) were all mentioned.
These three all seemed to enjoy life and their work. Edna
worked like a man and keep the ranch going after the
early death of her husband, and later had a live in
boyfriend who she never married (scandalous for the
1920s through 1950s). Imogene was lively and
hardworking and made a good living on her own as a
teacher in the far off Pacific Northwest. Jake was an
interesting character that had a natural talent as a cowboy
and horseman, although he came to a bad end
(alcoholism) after he was banished from the Hutterite
colony for his beliefs and behavior. Others liked Uncle
Theo and Aunt Em who were the hosts of frequent dinner
and dancing parties until drought and economic
depression ending the constant entertaining at their
house. And finally it was mentioned that only Aunt Sylva
and Uncle Ervan seemed like a happy couple. Ervan was
a very ambitious young man, who went away on his own
at a young age to help build the Fort Peck Dam, learned
welding in the middle of the night (after working all day),
and became a successful building contractor with no
formal education.
The richness of Dillard‘s description was mentioned in the
background material and drew admiration of the group as
well. A number of rich passages including the neighbor girl
skating in the street were cited. But we agreed that in
some respects, the rich writing seemed to be a substitute
for a lack of a central unifying theme or an actual story
line.
The "ordinary" quality of Dillard‘s childhood was an area of
concern as well... While Dillard‘s life was one of
privilege—private school, private beaches, country club
dances, and French and Latin lessons—it seemed normal
in comparison to the class conscious lifestyle of Ooma—
Dillard‘s paternal Grandmother. After kicking the idea
about we concluded this life was ordinary for Dillard and
her peers even if they were alien to us. In some respects,
this may have been a key moment—that ordinary is in the
eyes of the beholder.
This reflection on her life led us to the idea that while she
accepts her life and its gifts throughout most of the book,
as a teenager she felt constrained and considered the
upper crust, male-centric, money-centric life of Pittsburgh
hypocritical and confining. Like sensitive, discontented
teenagers from most walks of life she desired more
freedom and of course a different sort of life.
We all wondered about the ‗unfinished‘ stories such as
whole story of what happened to Mary‘s father. Did he
commit suicide? Wander off in a daze? If he committed
suicide is there something more they aren‘t telling? Also
the chapter ―The Unwanted Child‖ left a lot of unanswered
questions. We all felt sorry for her first child, her son Albert
who is one of the unwanted children in this chapter. I
wondered what happened to him and ran across a short
essay called Silence where Mary Blew talks about her son
and admits that she hasn‘t spoken to him in twenty years.
This story filled in some of the missing years. Elaine
Hayes
Overall people enjoyed the rich descriptive writing of this
book and some of the ideas Dillard evokes but they did not
find it an engaging read. Perhaps a different place in the
order of the reading would have helped.
Two reports from Wright Branch Library and the Ordinary
Lives Series We moved from fall to spring, and with the 4
book series, we are trying a new book every two weeks.
This may be a mistake. Wright has a strong core group of
readers and enthusiastic participants, but our second
session had the worst turn out in four years.
I used the Reading WY archives heavily for this series,
and I really appreciated the access to the information
about memoirs as a separate genre. Our opening
discussion was memoir versus biography, memoir as a
female format, and what chapters our memoir would
include. Annie Dillard's AMERICAN CHILDHOOD was
either liked or found boring. Her writing style was
admired, but the family was considered bizarre and even
spoiled. This topic led to a discussion on privileged
families and the influence of families on children. Of
course I liked the librarian who helped Annie with a variety
of reading options, and all of the participants found stories
in the book which could relate to their own lives. Dillard's
life stories led to conversation about religion, social
classes, roles of mother and father.
An American Childhood
Eight readers met at the Washakie County Library to
Discuss Annie Dillard‘s book, /An American Childhood.
/Discussion opened with a question about whether the
readers considered their childhood selves as scientists, ". .
. collectors and sorters" or did they see themselves as
artists who, "noticed the things that engaged the mind‘s
private and idiosyncratic interior" (213). I thought this
would elicit some discussion of these roles but folks either
couldn‘t recall their childhood personalities or they laid
claim to having both scientific and artistic components to
their intellects.
Despite questions gone awry, we enjoyed—an at times—
lively discussion of the narrator‘s point of view (P.O.V.)
and concluded that it was clearly an adult recalling,
analyzing, and deciphering childhood memories: more
-Patty
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This group did not enjoy Annie Dillard‘s An American
Childhood. Though they liked some of her language, the
group felt that Dillard sought to distance, rather than to
engage, the reader. They felt that there was no attempt to
reveal herself to the reader. At times in the text, Dillard
seemed on the brink of self-analysis or self revelation but
then pulled back.
An American Childhood was a good book to conclude the
series because we've talked a lot about how reflection and
recognition of the significance of our experiences
heightens our sense of our "place." If anyone is concerned
with the idea of consciousness, it is certainly Annie Dillard.
The discussion led to her "privileged" childhood, and we
acknowledged that she recognized that and that this
affected the voice and the sense of ironic distance we
detected in the narration. We also discussed why and how
her childhood was also uniquely "American"--the optimism,
the sense of promise, her obliviousness to the rest of the
world outside, etc., and then related and compared this to
the other books in the series.
We spent the first hour discussing Dillard‘s text, and then
because this was our last session, we used the second
hour as a wrap-up. At the end of the last discussion, I had
asked
the
group
to
consider
all
the
autobiographies/memoirs we had read and decide on one
that they felt would stay with them for a long time. I
encouraged the group to consider why they read
autobiography as well as some ideas I had shared with
them from several critics of autobiography such as Roy
Pascal and Georges Gusdorf, two founding figures in
autobiography studies, and make their selections to share
with the group during our last meeting. The consensus of
the group was that they had been most moved by Anne
Moody‘s Coming of Age in Mississippi, Kate Simon‘s
Bronx Primitive, and Natalie Kucz‘s Road Song. As we
talked, the group commented that these texts had touched
them because they revealed the inner lives of everyday
people in settings that were unfamiliar to most of us.
Ultimately, this group thought that the Ordinary Lives
discussion series was an excellent selection (with the
exception being the Dillard text).
We sidetracked into a discussion (debate?) on parenting
styles and how the "norm" changes over time. This got us
into a discussion of the "parenting" in the other memoirs,
which was provocative.
Norleen Healy (Newcastle)
(Jackson)
Several members of the group were vocal in their dislike of
Annie Dillard's narrative. They found her haughty,
overblown, obtuse, and even self-rapturous. They didn't
like that she grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth.
They didn't feel that she had (as they saw it) any particular
reason to publish her life-story.
Peaches Henry, 4-6-04
For this group especially, I usually prepare two sets of
notes, one for a discussion which generally hates the
book, showing a variety of reasons why the book is good
(or at least worth having read) and one for a discussion
which generally applauds a book showing alternative ways
of looking at the book so as to deepen understanding
against the grain.
In the discussion of American
Childhood, both in Jackson and Dubois, I was forced to do
some close-reading analysis of the book to illustrate
Dillard's exceptional textual skills. The book's careful
overall balance, essay-like format, deliberate, soft
repetitions, and verbal poetics impress people if they're
shown. I focused on a half dozen passages, word by word,
and related them among each other, explaining the care
and skill she takes in crafting sentences and paragraphs.
Doing this improved many dispositions over the course of
the evening.
We began the discussion with most people expressing
their dislike for the book. They felt that Dillard thought she
was superior to others; they disliked how she wrote and
what she wrote about. One participant in particular was
very vocal about her dislike of Dillard and dominated the
conversation.
Through pointing out sections of text, however, I was able
to open their minds to the idea that Dillard did value work,
did understand the plight of the people of Homewood, did
value helping others.
Members also thought the
description of her childhood was totally fake because "no
one lives a life like that," "no one dances with parents,"
etc. etc. I mentioned that my 16-year-old daughter and I
dance together frequently, and others gave evidence that
some people may live like Dillard lived.
(Dubois)
This discussion sort of oozed along. The evening had an
odd, languid energy about it, and I think the book had
something to do with that. Participants seemed to feel a
schism similar to what was expressed by groups
elsewhere: they liked the book, but they didn't like her.
They felt comfortable with the serene, thoughtful quality of
the text--what an outright nice book it seems to be. But
they felt like they couldn't scrape up the gumption to give a
hoot about Annie Dillard or her childhood, which, by the
way, they seemed to agree was anything but "American."
This seems to be particularly true of people who are
roughly Annie Dillard's age.
The rest of the discussion was focused on the
relationships of the people in the book. When I discussed
this book with the Rock River group last year, the
members really appreciated Dillard's development of her
interior life. But this group saw that development as selfcentered and without much value. We were able to
contrast Dillard's life with those presented in other books
in this series. Overall, members did not think Dillard's life
had much worth.
Maggie Garner, Medicine Bow Group, 12-19-03
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We did talk a lot about how ideas about the natural world
are formed, how naturalists are "bred" out of rough stock,
how the history of the environmental movement has its
roots in the sort of enterprising curiosity Dillard seems to
be describing, and how she may have been in this book
laying a retrospective foundation for her earlier natural
history works.
Comments from Rick Kempa, who led discussion of this
book in two different communities recently:
(Rock Springs/WWCC group)
This was a challenging book for many. Some didn't like the
"esoteric"nature of the book or its "poetic" instead of
"narrative" style. Some reacted against her "privileged"
upbringing. But we did explore some of the main themes:
how the book is an account of the awakening of a mind
and how there was a tension in her, as with other authors
we have read, to transcend her environment. And, we
made some connections to our own lives, our own hunger
to know, especially as adolescents, as well as some
comparisons and contrasts to other writers in the series.
I had learned a little about reactions to this book in
Jackson, and so wasn't surprised by this. As there, I
focused on her writing itself, doing a close-reading
demonstration, pointing out her repetitive techniques, her
rhythms and linguistics, her word play. I believe this is the
most technically deliberate and shapely piece of writing we
have in this series, and thus a lot of profit can be gained
by combing. Maybe it's a good thing that readers tend to
feel a little put off by the book itself, since that opens the
door for scrutiny of the creature's skeleton.
(Baggs group)
Peter Anderson
I was delighted with this discussion. I had heard in
advance from the organizer that some of the group
members had expressed dislike for the book, or at least
difficulty with it. But we had a fine, spirited discussion:-exploring what was difficult about the book--appreciating
its strengths (several readers were quite taken by the
book)
The members of the Pinedale group reacted to this book
in similar fashion to what I encountered elsewhere. They
liked the book superficially, but didn‘t find a lot in it to sink
their teeth into. Only one person really adored the book,
and spoke about it at great length. Then, as in Jackson,
about twenty minutes into the discussion someone blurted
out, "For the life of me I can‘t see why this book was
published, or even written. It doesn‘t seem to say
anything. There‘s no stress in this woman‘s life, few
problems to speak of, no crisis. It‘s pleasant, but what‘s
the point?"
--probing Dillard's relationship with her parents (and
contrasting this to the other authors)
--comparing our "life's reading" with the reading she had
done.
No one offered an answer to that question. So I spent
about thirty minutes explaining why I believe this is, if not
an important or significant work, at least a very good one,
and a fine example of a narrow type of autobiographical
writing. Dillard is doing two major things here: She‘s
metaphorizing the awakening of American culture to the
notion of an ongoing, living attachment to the natural world
(as reflected in the awakening which takes place in her
own life), and she‘s explaining how her childhood
prepared her to become the voice behind "Pilgrim At
Tinker Creek" and all those other naturalistic writings.
She‘s describing the genesis of a writer, a very specific
writer — Annie Dillard. All her later works are taken as
understood. There‘s a presumption that the reader is
aware of her body of work before engaging in this
narrative.
The best comment was after the discussion ended, when
a woman told me how she came into the meeting strongly
disliking the book, but was leaving with a new
appreciation.
[I report that last comment from Rick because, with all our
talk recently of "liking and disliking" works, it's encouraging
to know that occasionally people change their minds--J}
After the grimness, poverty, and sexual abuse of Moody‘s
and Simon‘s childhoods, the group embraced Dillard‘s
childhood as something familiar . . . utterly familiar was the
phrase one person used. The empathy participants felt for
Dillard‘s account seemed to be more than the common
ground of a middle-class, white, Protestant childhood.
Several people marveled at how Dillard reminded them of
forgotten elements of childhood. Watching light and
shadow race across the bedroom walls, for instance, and
being terrified, but then one day figuring out that it‘s just
car headlights at work. Having the freedom of roaming
play as a deerstalker or detective or treasure hunter.
Playing all day and never checking in with an adult except
at mealtimes.
I also spent some time elucidating the intricacies of her
text — among this set of writers, she is probably the most
linguistically careful and artful. I did close readings of
several passages from the book to show how she uses
various poetic and rhetorical methods to shape wellwrought sentences and paragraphs. The Pinedale readers
latched onto all that stuff — they left the meeting
exclaiming that they appreciated the book better now than
before — but they insisted it still left them a little
dissatisfied.
At the same time, several people were struck by how
much childhood has changed. Some of the mothers in the
group remembered giving their own children permission to
roam widely in the ‗50s. One told about letting her children
Peter Anderson
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Wyoming Council for the Humanities:
Book Discussion Series Archives
take off on foot across country to visit cousins in Cowley
(about 25 miles by road–less across country). They‘d call
her when they got there. Someone would bring them back
in a couple of days. Who, we marveled, would let their
children do that today? People also noted the scraps
Dillard got in (trying to derail a streetcar, for instance),
situations that today would lead us to call her a juvenile
delinquent and seek intervention. This led to speculation
about a child‘s need for freedom to exercise
independence, imagination, curiosity, and courage in
tension with a parent‘s need for safety in a society which
may seem unsafe and threatening.
Having done this series once before, I really wanted to set
it up better this time, so we spent some time accordingly. I
began by talking about the genre itself. I asked people
what kind of expectations they bring to a memoir -- how it
might be different form autobiography, for example. Some
interesting discussion there led me to explain how the
books are chosen for these series and what kinds of
choices this particular series indicates. When we finally
got to discussion of the book itself, we had already kind of
covered and explained some of the objections some had
about this choice. This book lends itself well to discussion
of that ironic distance in voice. We looked at passages
which illustrated that so that those who complain about her
"privileged" NOT so ordinary childhood could see that she,
too, recognized this. I did a better job this time using
passages to illustrate. Some of the participants also
alluded to good illustrations of her subtle repetitions. Some
of the questions I had prepared for discussion (which, as
usual, veered us off in other directions) were as follows: (
I'm including these this time because I so appreciate when
other discussion leaders do!) (I overuse parenthesis, don't
I ?)
Another idea that resonated with the group was the
emphasis Dillard put on hard work. And we admired her
humor–folks loved the idea of Dillard the resistance fighter
proving she‘s an innocent by conjugating verbs in her
school girl French.
Members of the group noted that An American Childhood
does not seem as plot-driven as the other two memoirs
we‘ve read. People appreciated that Dillard‘s book seems
primarily a memoir of her inner life, and they were
charmed by the metaphors of waking and becoming alive.
Dillard‘s mother caught their attention and interest
(especially with her determination that her daughters learn
to think independently and stand firm against evil), but
they were puzzled by the atypical role of her father. No
regular work? What is this guy doing anyway? We
probably could have explored the ideas of gender roles,
work, and leisure a great deal more than we did, but the
conversation slipped away.
Deb Koelling

How does Dillard develop
consciousness (examples)

How would she tell us to live?

How is her childhood uniquely "American" -- (lots
of disagreements here but I did get them to admit
to the sense of promise and place!)?

How does Dillard view the gender roles in her
childhood world?

What empowered her?

How does she
experience"?

How does American childhood differ now from
what she describes? How is it the same?
the
emerging
. . .We explored how nearly every chapter in the book
somehow relates to the themes of "waking up to the world"
and of bridging the inner world to the outer world. We
remarked how Dillard's story on the one hand is every
child's story and yet on the other is one of a kind: there's
no other five-year-old quite like her, brooding "mindless
and eternal on the kitchen floor." We all recognized pieces
of our own lives or our children's lives in Dillard's account.
We had a good discussion. The Story group of readers are
true readers.
Rick Kempa
Norleen Healy (Story group)
In general, the group was glad they read the book. I led off
with biographical information on Dillard. Since I had
recently read Dillard's latest, FOR THE TIME BEING, I
drew some comparisons between this latest work and her
memoirs (spirituality, concentration, obsession with
learning everything). We made great use of the Powell
website. It's wonderful. We focused on Dillard's love of
learning new things, reading, her family relationships. We
compared ages among all the memoirists--and discussed
how age affects how and what memoirists write. We talked
about how cities, teens, high school, have changed since
the 1950s. It was also of interest to the group that Dillard
wrote with such a sense of place.
Annie Dillard‘s An American Childhood proved to be an
effective book for discussion in Lusk. Although what are
apparently the usual negative comments regarding the
book‘s prose style were made, several of the participants
remarked about how much they had enjoyed the book.
The group once again was pretty much self-directed after I
asked for reactions to the book and Annie‘s experiences of
place and family and friends, etc. Comments seemed
more focused than in the past on reflections on personal
experiences, about which the book had triggered
memories and thoughts. Few could identify with Annie‘s
privileged urban setting, but most seemed interested in
her experiences and her family. When I suggested the
theme of ―feminism‖ and the changes since Annie‘s
childhood for women such as her mother, I got a blast of
Barbara Gose (Riverton group)
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"intellectually
master
her
Wyoming Council for the Humanities:
Book Discussion Series Archives
resistance regarding the term. However, it was possible
to reframe the concept so that I think it will be possible to
explore this without major controversy as we continue with
the books in the series.
really relate. We had a good time with this book and are
now on to Coming of Age in Mississippi.
Norma Christensen
Dillard‘s discussion of her growing up with ―the bomb‖
brought interesting and sustained discussion of this
particular experience in the lives of group members. This
segued into discussion of living with the new threat of
terrorism, which was very animated.
The Wheatland BDG‘s discussion of Annie Dillard‘s An
American Childhood redeemed all the difficult group
discussions where I‘ve felt like I was dragging discussion
from speech-impaired readers. The discussion began
spontaneously, and continued this way for well over the
usual hour and a half. Everyone shared memories of
childhood and growing up that had been triggered by the
book. Everyone had passages in the book they wanted to
share; in fact, I had difficulty sharing my own because the
flow of the discussion was too fast for it. After about an
hour, someone asked me if I had any ―humanities themes‖
they should be considering. I could only respond that they
had been covering them all. All of us had grown up
reading voraciously; all of us had regular trips to a local
library for the next ―supply‖; all of us had grown up playing
outdoors, both alone and with other children; all of us had
struggled with separating from our parents; and everyone
had, at an early age, observed that the values we were
learning from our reading were ―subversive‖ when
compared with what we observed being lived by the
adults. The summary comments were that this was the
best book of any in any of the series!
Following the suggestions of other discussion leaders, I
gave a fairly in depth introduction to the next book,
Coming of Age in Mississippi, which book should provide
an interesting contrast to Dillard‘s memoir.
Bob Brown
Somehow, a book which most of the group "hated" elicited
a lively 90 minute conversation about intellectual growth,
parent/child relationships, the importance of a sense of
place, critical thinking ability, gender issues, the interior
life, and artistic independence. Hmmm.... those sound like
the main issues raised by the book, so how did that
happen? Our discussion began by several group members
voicing their dissatisfaction with a non-linear narrative that
seemed to impose an adult world view onto the
experiences of a child. I responded by reading from the
series brochure the portion describing memoirists' search
for greater social meaning in their "ordinary" lives. The
group majority responded that they were unable to relate
to the child Annie Dillard because they had childhood
experiences that were much different. I honestly don't
know how it happened, but somehow they wound up
acknowledging that although they didn't have rock
collections, they still had to face adolescence,
independence and all the other crises which Dillard's
childhood "plot" examine. They still hated the book at the
end, but wound up having a thoughtful discussion of the
key issues. I'm trying to balance acknowledging and
accepting their expectations for this series and the books
in it with my obligation to open for them a different way of
seeing literature, that is, as art, not just an affirmation of
their own, albeit wide ranging and full, experiences. I'll let
you know when I have that one figured out!
As we were leaving, one of the group told a joke, as
follows: ―A man walks into a bar . . .‖ We parted,
laughing.
Bob Brown
Sheridan Library discussion
American Childhood
of
Annie
Dillard‘s
An
Annie Dillard‘s An American Childhood produced the
most extensive, most positive discussion of the year. The
participants overwhelmingly liked the book, although some
literalists had a tough time with Dillard‘s point of view, that
is to say, an adult writing a child‘s thoughts from an adult
view. As one reader said, ―I liked this book but I wouldn‘t
want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with this
woman.‖ Others said they‘d give a body part to have a
cup of coffee with Annie Dillard. The book engendered
discussion about how much free time children should
have.
Julianne Couch (Eppson Center group in Laramie)
Ten Sleep got off to a great start with their discussion of
An American Childhood. There were the usual faces from
the last couple years plus two new ones. One of the
members is an enthusiastic Dillard fan which helped a
couple doubting Thomases muster up enthusiasm for the
book. All participants recognized the great insight Dillard
has and her zest for life and the beauty of language with
which she expresses herself. Those three or four folks
who confessed to not having finished the book now want
to go back and see what they missed. It was an
exhilarating discussion although everyone present
recognized that the American childhood described by
Dillard is not one with which most people in Ten Sleep can
Samuel Western, January 14, 2004
Glenrock discussion of An American Childhood
This group found itself divided in its response to
Annie Dillard‘s An American Childhood, with some finding
her narrative to be unbelievable (―Would a child really
think about the world like that?‖) while others identified
completely with her childhood stories and her reflections
(a resounding ―Yes!‖ was the response). A number of
readers noted that since an adult is the author, the
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narrative cannot escape that adult perspective, and that
they appreciated both the child‘s memories as well as the
mature reflections on those recollections. Possibly due to
this divide in reader response, this group engaged in lively
discussion for nearly two hours.
and touched on the issue of feminism. We didn't stay there
long, however, as the group seemed to feel that Dillard
focused more on the inner self than on societal issues. I
ended the discussion with a preview of next month's book.
--Kathy Bjornestad
The narrator‘s situation contrasted sharply with that
of our first selection (Road Song), so the question ―What is
ordinary about this life?‖ was raised once again. This
prompted an invigorating exploration of the commonalities
of family experiences, parent/child relationships,
intellectual discovery, gender issues, the emergence of
the artistic perspective, the interdependence of spirituality
and nature, contrasts between the reality of our lives and
the realities portrayed in what we read, and finally, the life
of the mind. (Whew! – talk about ―all over the map!)
Group members pointed out that while Dillard may have
led a privileged life, in many respects her experiences
reflected their own. Many shared childhood events and
experiences that were similar to those described by Dillard
(terrifying lights and shadows on the bedroom wall, rock
collections, the sanctuary of the library), while others
pointed out that children today do not have the freedoms
many of us enjoyed in this more innocent, less structured
America. We noted how both Dillard‘s and Kusc‘s
memoirs are uniquely ―American,‖ and commented on how
attitudes and experiences were actually very close to ours
in Wyoming, in regards to a generally optimistic, ―can-do‖
attitude. Members paused to continue their discussion
even as we were leaving the library – a tell-tale sign of a
good read. What a great group!
I was prepared for some negative comments regarding the
book because I'd read the mostly negative postings on the
WCH website from other Wyoming cities. But, to my
surprise, most of the thirteen in Cheyenne loved the book
and those that didn't love it had mixed feelings; they liked
Dillard's lyrical style but were a bit put off by her privileged
upbringing. Most also appreciated the insight into the
development of the mind of a great writer. This was a very
well-educated and well-read group and all but two have
attended other WCH discussion groups in the past. I
started out the evening with an introduction to the WCH
book discussion series in general, gave some biographical
and bibliographical information on Annie Dillard and began
the discussion by asking for general comments on the
book. I had prepared a list of about 15 questions to
address but rarely had to refer to my list because the
group hit on every single issue on their own in one way or
another.
Among the issues we discussed were: gender issues
(Annie's talented mother without an outlet for her talents in
upper class 1950 s Pittsburgh, etc.), the theme of Annie's
awakening to consensus and development of her mind,
the amazing intensity of her childhood memories and the
way she describes the ! inner life of a child, the freedom
she had as a child as compared to the constraints placed
on children today, how Annie's childhood was the same or
different from our own, the strong sense of place in the
memoir (Pittsburgh as a character), the sheer beauty and
detail of the writing style, the bigotry of the grandmother
and the father compared to the more accepting views of
the mother (and other racial and class issues), and the
emphasis on the development of her religious beliefs.
Ebba Stedille, Oct 8, 2003
Sundance: We opened our discussion on Dillard with the
question, "What expectations did you bring to this
memoir?" Most participants were fairly unfamiliar with this
author and thus had few expectations. Perhaps this
actually helped them to appreciate the book more than
they otherwise would have, as they did not necessarily
expect a plot-driven book with lots of conflict. Overall, the
group responded positively to Dillard. They appreciated
how she brought the tiniest details to life and connected
with the reader's own memories. Most could relate to her
childhood, though not all felt it had been a typical
American childhood because of her sheltered, privileged
upbringing. Though little of a negative nature was said
about this book, some readers did think Dillard tended to
overdo certain lists and descriptions, so that the book
dragged in places. The group loved Dillard's rich use of
language and didn't mind the lack of plot, nor did they find
the book hard to follow. In fact, one reader pointed out that
Dillard's sentence structure is generally fairly simple.
--Elaine Hayes
For many in the group, Dillard's memoir of growing up in
an urban upper class family was a seldom viewed or
considered picture of advantages very different from their
own. Part of the discussion was an interesting
consideration of the class structure in the United States,
from the aristocracy to the unemployed and unemployable
poor, and the group members' growing awareness of the
increasingly large gap between the wealthy and the rest of
America. As part of discussing these phenomena, the
group considered their own socio-economic backgrounds
and current lives, the choices they have made, the choices
past and present available to them, and the values they try
to live by.
Without much help the group touched upon those issues I
had marked for discussion. We briefly compared Dillard to
Thoreau, and I read a few passages from Walden to help
us make the comparison. The group liked the voice of the
writer, though they found her boundless energy and
optimism a little exhausting at times. Most also agreed
that, with its optimism and can-do attitude, her childhood
does represent America well. Finally, we discussed how
influential Dillard's father seems to have been in her life
Ironically, the process of their lives seemed at times to
resonate with Annie Dillard's, especially when reflecting on
their memories of the growth of their awareness. The
available alternatives presented considerable differences
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from hers. In general, the participants seemed to have
grown up with fewer material and educational
opportunities, but with less apparent chaos and acting out.
While they liked Dillard's way of talking about her growing
up years, they struggled to overcome their disapproval of
her, and their lack of experience with fathers and mothers
who didn't work. They also had difficulty identifying with
her play activities around pavement, as many of them
grew up with outdoor activities and play determined by
chores and country dirt and grass. Their public schools,
including the state universities many of them attended,
differed from what they read about in the memoir.
The topic of whether one can leave, or escape, and what
is it in us and in our species that impels some of us to
attempt it. Like Dillard's attempt to remember everything,
the attempt to escape is both compelling and impossible.
We also indulged in some analysis of Dillard's personality
itself, as it is evoked in the book and described in some
biographical information one of the participants had
printed off the internet. Some participants thought she was
probably ADHD, but undiagnosed, and bemoaned the use
of medication to control those otherwise highly creative
characteristics. That led to a discussion of education, and
the privilege Dillard had of going to a very small, private
school, where simple behavioral management did not
have to be one of the primary tasks of teachers. The
concept of adolescent rebellion, and the concept of
adolescence itself, engaged us for a while.
In spite of the differences, the discussion was interesting
and warm-hearted. This group, so quiet and often
withdrawn, was able to use this memoir to generate a
thoughtful discussion.
We wove comparisons with Bronx Primitive throughout the
discussion, noting that Simon seemed to evoke the world
of childhood more clearly, in part because she was less
focused on herself as an object of observation. As a result,
participant had a clearer picture of other family members
and the local world of the narrator. On the other hand,
Dillard provides a subjective vividness beyond that of
Simon, or, probably, most memoirists. In addition, while
Bronx Primitive was a coming of age story (perhaps
inherent in most memoirs), An American Childhood was a
sort of anti-coming of age story, where the protagonist
knows less and less about who she is, what she knows,
and what her place in the world is at the end of the memoir
than she did in the beginning. As a consequence, her
leaving is more of a running away from, than an entering
into. That is driven by the eternal hope that somewhere
there is a New Orleans where the jazz is played loud
enough to match the energy of Dillard's internal world.
--Bob Brown
All of the Jackson participants were impressed by Dillard's
mastery of language and her powers of observation. (One
participant found the detailed discussions of rocks,
insects, and other objects of Dillard's youthful passion to
long, and off-putting.) One or two participants thought that
much of the detail and specific recollection was made up
in retrospect by the adult narrator. That thought led to a
spirited discussion about the relationship of memory,
creation and truth. (We don't shy away from large topics.)
We discussed the fact that one of the central threads of
the book was, overtly, that very issue, i.e. Dillard's own
struggle with the relationship between what she
"remembered" and what she made up as she was growing
up. Participants had various perspective on the role of
memory in their own lives and in our culture. We
discussed the cultural "memory" of a people as it is
embodied in history, the memory of the earth and place
itself as it invoked through the natural world (as observed
by humans). Many participants shared their ideas, and
personal experiences, of the importance, and fallibility, of
memory. Part of this discussion focused on the
relationship between being the observer and the
observed.
--Stephen Lottridge
We had a small group and one which, at least initially, was
unimpressed with Annie Dillard and her book. They said
they couldn‘t figure out what she was trying to accomplish,
that the book seemed to ―go nowhere‖ and that her
childhood was difficult, if not impossible, to relate to. In
spite of this initial response, the group did open up and
allow for some alternate ways to examine the book as we
talked about her writing in general and what she was
attempting in this particular piece. We talked about the
nature of memory and we shared our earliest memories.
We agreed that Dillard‘s early memories sparked ours.
Since we were an ―older‖ group, spent a lot of time talking
about how cities, teenagers, high schools, etc. have
changed since the 1950‘s AND how some things never
change. We compared the Cold War atmosphere with the
current post 9/ll culture. Some people said they wished
that she gave us more about her parents because they
intrigued us (especially the mother). We noted that with
each of the three books so far in this series, the
importance and influence of libraries has been a theme
.
We also spoke of more specific issues related to our
American experiences, especially those of the 50's. That is
one of the beauties of having older participants. One of the
participants, in fact, had grown up in Pittsburgh in the
fifties and knew the schools and neighborhoods Dillard
lived in. The whole question of the cultural and attitudinal
values of the post-war era, with its relative predictability
and security, led to a discussion of how, why and when
that changed. We also discussed the level of
independence Dillard experienced, even in the fairly
regimented structure of dance class, school, church, and
family duties, and how that may have helped to form her.
We also commented on the structure of the work,
beginning and ending as it does with getting away, first in
the fathers brief attempt to get to New Orleans where they
play jazz loudly enough, and then Dillard's own escape
from the world and culture she had come so to resent. We
spoke then of Dillard's own "return" in the form of memoir.
In the end, the discussion was much more engaging than
it started out. I guess this proves my theory that
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differences of growing up in the 1950‘s as compared to
present day. Some examples included 1) the freedom
children had compared to present day; 2) that children
were left unattended in situations (i.e.: when the author
and her friend stayed in the cabin separate from the
adults, started their own fire in the cabin and cooked their
own food; 3) formal dances and dress (white gloves, etc);
4)the author‘s parents allowing her to smoke with them at
the age of 15; among many other comparisons.
sometimes the books people dislike can provoke very
interesting discussions.
--Norleen Healy
Tongue River: Only one or two of them knew anything
about Annie Dillard, so I spent time talking about her
writing in general which I think helps in approaching this
book. The group was interested in her other writing which I
cursorily reviewed. We looked what she tells us in the
Prologue about ―connecting the dots‖ and what this
memoir is really about – her emerging consciousness.
Other points of discussion included how the author would
not allow herself to visit her friend‘s cabin, even though it
was where she felt the happiest, that the author was
―required‖ to attend church but the parents did not and the
author‘s ―resignation‖ from the church at the age of 15,
and the alarming practical joke her mother played on the
couple at the zoo (page 113). Some of the discussion
group thought the mother was a practical joker because
she was ―bored out of her mind.‖
This particular book seems to evoke strong feelings one
way or another. While many of the participants strongly
objected to Dillard‘s style and even personality, a couple
of the women were passionate about how much the book
meant to them. One lady said she intend to read
everything else she can find that Dillard has written! I
went around the circle and asked each person to pick out
something (hopefully with a passage to illustrate) that
struck them in any way while reading the book. Because
the responses were so varied, we were able to discuss
most of the major ideas that emerge from the book (and
which are noted in all those previous discussion reports).
The topic of polio was also widely discussed. Many
participants told of their memories growing up with the
polio scare. One individual recalled that their family was
quarantined to their home for a time, as one of their family
members had contracted polio.
The next book discussion will take place on August 12 at 2
P.M. and the group will be discussing Coming of Age in
Mississippi by Anne Moody.
We did a lot of digressing – thinking about what ―rings a
bell‖ for us -- and the nature of memory in general. The
discussion was lively and went on longer than usual even;
this in spite of the initial reluctance about the book. As we
concluded, some of the strongest objectors were telling
the rest of the group that listening to them helped make
them appreciate the book more than they had initially. It
was great hearing them reinforce each other like that.
Stephanie Jeffers
The Newcastle group met on February 9, 2011, in the
Weston County Library meeting room. Nine members
braved the wintry weather and gathered to discuss An
American Childhood, by Annie Dillard.
--Norleen Healy
I had heard through the grapevine that some participants
were disappointed with this book, which I found curious
since I had enjoyed reading it. Therefore, I went prepared
for a lackluster discussion and had brainstormed several
related activities we could do if the book discussion
lagged. I should not have worried! Even though several
participants were bored by chapters like the one on
Dillard‘s rock collection, all those who attended the
discussion found much to share.
The Saratoga book discussion group met on July 8 at 2
P.M. at the Saratoga Public Library to discuss the second
book in the series, An American Childhood by Annie
Dillard. Eight were in attendance for the book discussion.
Additionally, two reporters from the Saratoga Sun
Newspaper were also in attendance to report on the book
discussion group for the July 15, 2009 edition.
The group was split as to their reaction to the memoir.
Half of the discussion group liked this memoir over Bronx
Primitive, noting that this book was easier to read as it was
a ―happier‖ memoir. Others stated that the writing style
was too ―flowery‖ and ―wordy.‖ Some participants agreed
that the book was at times confusing because the author
tended to skip back and forth in reference to her age. The
discussion group also questioned the point of the book?
Why was this book written? What was the purpose?
However, this book discussion was more open than the
first one, as many participants related to and noted parts
of the book reminded them of similarities to their own
childhoods.
We all agreed that the author has a compelling writing
style. Not only does she have a great memory for detail,
she is able to make something like a rock collection more
interesting than we felt we could. Several of us came
prepared with quotes to share of Dillard‘s descriptive
wording. I also shared how much I had enjoyed the
book‘s setting. I grew up in Pennsylvania, and while it
wasn‘t Pittsburgh—the city of Dillard‘s childhood—there
were so many references to places and details in
Pennsylvania that I thoroughly enjoyed coming upon each
one as I read.
My point was to discuss the effect of personal details
when reading memoirs, and one participant had a twist on
that for this book. Dillard begins by saying that she was
Therefore, much of the discussion was focused on
reflection of each participant‘s own childhood and the
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born on the day Hitler died; our participant was also born
on that day and found that bond with the author to carry
throughout her reading experience.
seemed like) far off place? Comparing our skin to that of
our parents (or grandparents)? Being devastated by the
death or damage to something we thought we were
treating with care (the moth)?
After sharing favorite sections and impressions of the
book, we went on to share memories from our own
childhoods. I asked the participants to describe one
incident from their past that they would be sure to include
if ever they wrote their memoir. Each participant had no
trouble with that activity, and one participant mentioned
that she‘d already started writing her memoir.
No, everybody didn't like it, but they loved discussing it
and vowed they would give it a second try. Yes, she lived
a privileged childhood, but that does not detract from the
essentials of discovering life for most children. A great
read.
Barbara Gose
In addition to writing autobiography, Dillard also writes
―found poetry‖ and is a painter. I brought about a dozen
copies of her paintings to share and an example of a
―found poem‖ she ―wrote.‖ This technique is one she has
really developed; she puts together poems from the words
of other authors, never actually writing her own phrases
for the poems. The result is quite intriguing.
An American Childhood by Annie Dillard in the Ordinary
Lives series:
Seven ladies met at the Pine Bluffs library to discuss An
American Childhood by Annie Dillard. Only about 60-70%
had finished the book. This book was not well received;
many in the group did not care for the very descriptive
style. Some found it boring or were put off with the
financially privileged upbringing the author enjoyed. The
emphasis on maids, vacation homes and private schools
was far from the experience of anyone in the group. Also
the focus on Pittsburgh made it harder to identify with
Dillard‘s childhood when none of the group members had
ever even visited the town. But several group members
did mention that this was one of the reasons that they
participate in Wyoming Humanities Council book groups,
for the opportunity to experience things through literature
that they won‘t have the chance to experience in life. The
group was impressed with the author‘s obvious
intelligence, curiosity and spunk but they did question
whether she really could have accurately remember her
earlier life experiences in such great detail or if some
‗artistic license‘ was taken with the facts she did
remember.
Phyl Sundstrom
Ten readers gathered to discuss Annie Dillard's memoir.
Only about one-third of us had finished it, some because
they found her hard to read, but most because they
thought it would be a fast read and started the book too
late. All these folks kept their books to finish reading.
And that's why we engage in these discussions! This is
not a fast read; to me, this book requires small sips with
time between to ponder. We had an energetic, animated,
contentious discussion. I started with some background
on Dillard. Then we started around the group getting
reactions from each member.
This took the entire
evening, as we kept interrupting one another. Here is
most of what we talked about…..
different types of memoirs and how Dillard's was an early
one
childhood freedom, the difference between then and now
Those that did enjoy her writing style compared it to
reading poetry. Those that did not enjoy the style mostly
said they didn‘t enjoy poetry either and read stories for the
plot, characterization, etc. Again those that appreciated
the memoir liked how her frequent childhood obsessions
with baseball, rocks, science (the microscope), and boys
mirrored many of their own interested in their own
childhoods. In my case, I also received a small
microscope as a pre-teen and did many of the same
‗experiments‘ with my own microscope in the ‗science lab‘
I set up in our root cellar. Her adventures in misbehavior
such as the throwing of snowballs at moving cars also
reminded us of some of the bratty (but fun) things we did
as children.
a sense of place, some people feel this, others don't…..
or their sense of place is found within the family
Dillard's parents and their influence on her development.
They were fiercely liberal, but conventional in the social
sense.
Her determination to learn everything she came in contact
with - insects, baseball, drawing, rocks, religion, dancing,
music and on and on
how the memoir is about her inner life and not particularly
about her outer life - no play by play of boyfriends, music
of the times, and so on
Her intelligent and comedic parents were a large part of
the discussion, especially her mother who had a very
interesting sense of humor. We discussed for quite a while
whether the incident with the kissing couple where she
pretended to be an old lover of the man was funny, witty or
cruel. Her father‘s strange trip down the river to New
Orleans was discussed because Dillard both opens and
closes the book with this incident. Their inherited wealth
made it easy for him to just buy a boat and take a long
solo trip without much thought to a job or family. We
All of us loved her discussion of reading and were amazed
and somewhat intimidated by the books she read.
However, some of us as children read well beyond our
level of even understanding content.
For all of us, we could find many places in the book where
we said, "oh, I felt just like that." Ghosts in the room?
Bored in study hall? Riding our bike to some (what
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discussed the ‗benign neglect‘ concept of parenting which
Dillard‘s parents seem to practice. We agreed that in the
1950s this sort of parenting was probably more common
and less dangerous. Kids these days never have as much
freedom as Dillard did as a child.
expectations of her particular cultural world were a
constraining force.
Somehow, we got onto the issue of gender expectations,
and whether the difference between boys and girls, and
men and women, is socially created or is innate. We
proved no more adept at solving this dilemma, if in fact it is
a genuine one, than have all the other people who have
considered it. Probably both, but many people were
struck by how Dillard is drawn to activities that are typically
masculine and how she chafed at being prevented from
pursuing them. In the course of this discussion, several
people spoke of how reading this book had made them
think of their own growing up and had led them to
reconsider it. We talked about the importance of this kind
of response for us as readers, and I returned to the idea
that a book is not an objective thing but something with
which the reader has a relationship based in part on the
reader's own history and self understanding.
Since this was the last book in the series we talked about
the series as a whole and the other 3 books. The group‘s
favorite book of the series was probably Two Part
Invention by Madeleine L‘Engle with All but the Waltz by
Mary Clearman Blew as a second favorite. All agreed that
this particular series is in need of an update. We liked the
idea of reading memoirs of American women but some
newer memoirs would be much appreciated. I mentioned
that the series used to also include a book called Coming
of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody and Road Song by
Natalie Kusz which were actually my two favorites in the
series. One of my favorite memoirs by American women is
Riding the White Horse Home: A Western Family Album
by Teresa Jordan. Jordan is a Wyoming author who grew
up on a ranch in Laramie County. So Jordan‘s book would
be a suggestion from me for this series or other future
WHC reading series.
We noted that both Dillard's and Simon's books begin with
a topography of their community, and the importance of
place for both of them, and for the sense all of us have of
who we are and what we are connected to.
Elaine Hayes
As ever, the discussion was voluble and lively, and we had
to stop after two hours, even though the discussion could
have gone on.
Eighteen people attended this discussion, the second in
our series, Ordinary Lives: Memoirs of American Women.
Stephen Lottridge
Some people commented that the perspective in this book
seemed much more that of an adult than that of a child.
That immediately led to a discussion of the idea of a
memoir and its connection to human memory. We
discussed the idea that a memoir is inevitably a
recollection from an adult perspective. The author herself
recalls setting herself the impossible task, as a child, of
remembering everything so that nothing in her life will be
lost. We returned to a discussion of the idea that children
do, in fact, know, feel and understand much more about
themselves and their surroundings than they can
formulate in words, so that when an adult memoirist
describes a child's understanding it can seem false, but it
is, in fact, simply the adult author formulating something
that the child knew but could not yet put into words.
Bronx Primitive
Seven readers gathered at the Washakie County Library
on September 29^th to discuss Kate Simon‘s book */Bronx
Primitive/: /Portraits in Childhood/*. The group responded
to this book much more positively then to the previous
book, Annie Dillard‘s */An/*/ *American Childhood*./ Our
first point of discussion addressed this reaction. As a
group we basically concluded that the linear and narrative
style of Simon proved more engaging then the interior
philosophical musings of Dillard. The group readily
acknowledged Dillard‘s writing style outshone Simon‘s but
Simon‘s stories captured and held our attention more
effectively. This realization led us easily to discuss
content.
Some participants found the work choppy and wished
Dillard had spent more time developing the relationships.
This led us to comment on the question of whether an
memoir has to be a continuous narrative or if it can be
relatively discrete segments of memory, connected by the
author's perceptions but not necessarily by a fluid
narrative. We noticed that the work as a whole was held
together in part by a poetic structure of images, the central
one being the moth whose wings hardened in stunted form
because it was constrained in a jar that was too small and
did not allow it to stretch its wings fully. We discussed
how it may be, metaphorically, that we, too, find ourselves
contained in too small a space, whether of our own or the
environment's making, and so fail to stretch our wings fully
and fly freely. Some people could not see that Dillard was
constrained at all, and felt her sense of restriction was part
of adolescent rebellion, while others believed that the
One piece of information that fairly leapt out at all of the
readers was the information about the ready acceptance
of abortion as a means of birth control among the women
of this lower socio-economic, immigrant community.
Furthermore, the revelation that Kate‘s mother had had a
staggering thirteen abortions signaled a desperation that
invited analysis. Synthesizing information from the memoir
itself and historical recollections, we concluded the maledominated nature of the society—it is the wife‘s duty to
provide sex—and a near total lack of any birth control
measures led to a high number of unwanted pregnancies
that threatened these women and their children. These
immigrant women, and Kate‘s mother in a particular, were
in tenuous situations where the father already resented
spending money on the children he had. Add to this the
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poor English skills of some like Mrs. Petrides who spoke
no English and who had no Greek neighbors, and the
often a nearly complete lack of marketable skills, and you
have a group of women dedicated to not rocking the
familial boat lest it capsize.
think this was the least favorite book of the series for the
Jackson group (although I think it might be my favorite).
Looking for uplifting material, the group was perhaps
prepared for a narrative of substantial life accomplishment,
or at least close personal connection to accomplishment.
This happened in large part because we read Coming of
Age in Mississippi previously (for our first meeting), and it,
unlike all of the other books in the series, is more of a true
memoir, describing the author's relationship to important
historical events, as opposed to the private psychological
terrain of classic autobiography. I think the group expected
more books along that vein.
The precarious nature of their situations may well explain
why Kate‘s mother did nothing when a parade of old world
cousins stayed in the apartment and used the adolescent
Kate as an unwilling sex partner. Indeed the widespread
sexual predation in this book provided another line of
discussion that we explored at length. A situation we again
traced back to male domination and the need for some
semblance of security.
Overall, they liked the earthy tone of Simon's writing and
her stunning visual descriptions. They disliked her dark,
labyrinthine, hero-less childhood. I think they felt a little let
down. I read them excerpts from Simon's two ensuing
autobiographies A Wider World and Etchings in an
Hourglass to sketch in her life and writing strengths. We
spent a lot of time hearing immigrant stories from
participants, which we found vividly entertaining and
elucidating.
In the end, Kate‘s open rebellion against her father and
the left us feeling the book ended somewhat abruptly but
to paraphrase Winston Churchill it seemed to be the end
of the beginning.
The women in the group (no men, as usual) loved this
book. It evoked a fascinating discussion on how intimacy
and sexuality were not discussed in any meaningful way in
most homes, especially in the early part of this century.
One woman told of an abortionist who regularly plied his
trade in Sheridan and did so with impunity.
The
participants liked Simon‘s style. Who wouldn‘t?
(Pinedale)
The group appreciated Bronx Primitive far more than the
Jackson group. Several members of the group felt
powerful identifications with Kate Simon, even if they had
grown up in very different surroundings.
People thought this book surpassed A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn. They also compared it, strangely enough, to An
American Childhood. I suppose there is a relationship on
some level, at least in the quality and type of narrative
voicing.
Samuel Western, February 2004
Our discussion began with each person offering
comments on her reaction to the book. Most participants
enjoyed the book. Several were a bit nonplussed by the
sexual abuse that the narrator experienced. However,
they were impressed with her ability to defend herself
against the various adults who attempted to abuse her.
One person was particularly interested by the author‘s
relationship with her father. Others were intrigued by the
author‘s mother who they felt they learned about through
the talks the author reported having with her about being a
woman. The group decided that this wasn‘t a typical
immigrant story. Rather, this immigrant‘s story challenged
all the stereotypes that exist. This was particularly true in
the case of the mother. As it seemed the author intended,
many readers disliked the father for his selfishness,
arrogance, and disregard for his immediate family in favor
of his extended family. We loved the triumphant closing
section of the book, and, as one participant put it, thought
this book should be taught in a Women‘s Studies course
as a sterling example of feminist literature. Realizing that
there are two additional sequels to this text, the group
looked forward to reading more about Kate Simon. The
group was pleased with this book and definitely
recommended keeping it on any future lists.
Several participants said they were shocked by the rape
episodes, saying outright that they knew this sort of thing
occurred, but had never personally been acquainted with
anyone to whom it had happened. A good discussion
ensued when I brought up the notion of language, or
rather the missing of languages, the immigrant experience
with languages, and the cultivated language of this book.
(Dubois)
The Dubois group, more than the other locations where
I've led this discussion, really liked this book from the
outset. Hence, their discussion of it was sensitive and
insightful:
thought-provoking.
People
commented
favorably on (a) its elegance and effortless movement and
visual descriptiveness, (b) the depiction of life patterns,
both those which took hold of immigrant families and those
which can or were shattered, (c) power relationships,
between married couples, between children and parents,
between
neighbors,
and
(d)
the
deceptively
heterogeneous coming-to-America dream.
Peaches M. Henry, February 2004
We spent a goodly amount of time talking about the
connection between trust and control, and that stirred a
mountain of commentary on participants' own lives. Very
interesting.
(Jackson)
"Why was this book published?" was the question I got
several times over the course of the evening. In general, I
The group was intrigued by Kate Simon's travel books,
which I described to them, attracted as they were to her
wit and sophistication. Overall, this group seemed much
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less face-value critical of her family and much more open
to the treasure of little insights contained in this book. I
honestly don't think I approached the discussion any
differently than in the other locations.
We compared Simon's book to Coming of Age in
Mississippi. The sexual abuse in Simon's book shocked
many of the group; some were angry that Simon's mother
hadn't protected her. Everyone disliked what we believe to
be her father's complicity in the girl's abuse. We had
previously speculated that Anne Moody betrayed many of
the symptoms of one who has experienced sexual abuse
and wondered if she'd been the victim of incest
(unrevealed in her book). Simon, on the other hand,
seemed fairly dispassionate and, we believed, well
adjusted in her reporting.
Peter Anderson
Our discussion of Kate Simon's Bronx Primitive couldn't
have been better. I introduced Simon by paraphrasing or
reading excerpts from the excellent Publisher's Weekly
interview (5-14-82). We began by celebrating the
extraordinary detail of the world she depicted and by
talking about details that some of us recognized from our
own upbringings. We admired the honesty of her account,
and noted that this trait of honesty or openness might
prove to be a common characteristic among the books
we'll be reading.
Deb Koelling
The December meeting of the Baggs discussion group
went well. Despite the fact that there was a town-wide
Christmas parade and potluck brewing later in the
evening, about 15 people were able to attend, and they
had plenty of comments to offer about our text, Kate
Simon's Bronx Primitive. One of the more interesting
strains of conversation that emerged had to do with the
sexual abuse that Simon and other girls were subject topeople were very upset by that, and unforgiving of the
parents for allowing it to occur. Another strand of
conversation, late in the meeting, centered on the value of
libraries in our society. The library was Simon's salvation,
as it was for Dillard, and one of the issues in the town of
Baggs is to find adequate funding for their lovely library to
maintain its current schedule, and people spoke
passionately about the subject.
We then talked about the social forces that were arrayed
against Simon. The question was asked, "How did she get
the courage and strength she needed to become herself?"
This led to discussions of her relationships with other
family members I pointed out that R. Gagnier, in her article
"Feminist Autobiography in the 1980s" (Feminist Studies,
Spring 1991), includes her as one of the "explicitly
feminist" writers of that era, and we discussed in what
ways she was a "feminist" writer.
Rick Kempa
A highlight was when one of the most elderly group
members pulled out a recent WCH newsletter andbecause she could not read without her magnifying glass-asked the person next to her to read a passage she had
marked from an essay by Bob, about how the humanities
can give us glimpses into the lives of others. "This is why
we are in this discussion group!" she exclaimed. "This is
why the Humanities Council selected these books for us to
read!" It fit perfectly into our discussion of the immigrant
experience, and our efforts to understand what it was like.
While all of the women had liked Anne Moody's book, the
group divided over Kate Simon's. Criticisms had to do with
its episodic nature ("It doesn't go anywhere.", challenges
to its truthfulness ("How could a four-year-old know or
remember that?"), and its subject matter ("Now I
remember why I don't read nonfiction: I don't want to know
this stuff."). Others thought the book was brave (and
truthful in revealing sexual abuse) and beautifully
imagined and written (the truth of the memory and the
experience being of more importance than whether the
memoir is factually accurate or not). One woman voiced
what seemed to be our final consensus on the form of
women's memoirs. The episodes are like beads strung on
a necklace, rather than a linear, heroic story line. This
necklace reflects the reality of women's episodic lives,
lives full of interruptions, but it can be very beautiful
depending on how you wish to wear it.
Rick Kempa
As I've found with previous discussion groups, this book
brings out sharply divided opinions. Some love Kate
Simon's depiction of the New York of her childhood, the
richness of her memory and the zing of her writing. Others
deplore her seeming distance from her subject matter, the
darkness of her recollections and disdain she seems to
feel (these readers claim) toward the place and the period.
To my way of thinking, that level of disagreement makes
this a terrific discussion book. I made use of it to bring up
questions about selective memory, and the way writers
represent and mold reality with language. We talked about
our own memories of childhood and how able each of us
is to recall specific details, especially the things people
said. We talked about the motives lying behind the writing
of memoir or autobiography.
Our
discussion
topics
included
independence,
abandonment, betrayal, feminism, the immigrant
experience, Jewish traditions and heritage, the book's
relationship (Kate's with her father, her brother, her
mother), female sexuality (and how we got our information
as adolescents--"Nope, my mother wouldn't talk about that
either!"), and the impact of popular culture in shaping our
lives. Thematic discussion included the struggle for
independence and against craziness. We speculated
about the importance of mothers in women's
autobiographies.
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I maintain sort of an ongoing assignment during these
Memoirs series--
(and I copy here from the list I had prepared but which I
never had to use, except to check off as the group selfinitiated discussion about the different points) narcissistic
men and especially fathers, sexual abuse, learning (sic)
about sex on the street, independence, trust, control, the
immigrant experience, abandonment, movies, libraries, the
isolation of the women, secrets of children and adults, and
the nature of memory. I interwove brief comments about
the genre of memoir, and minimal biographical information
about Kate Simon.
Once or twice, when personal
memories and transmitted family history began to wander,
I brought the discussion back. The book as feminist
literature, and the changes wrought for women since
Simon‘s early years, was a theme that was present
throughout the discussion.
Several of us expressed
interest in the sequels to Bronx Primitive, which are out of
print, and wished we knew more about the mother‘s life.
I've asked participants to sketch out their own memoirs, at
least as notes, or if they don't have time and energy for
that, to simply think about how they would write their own
memoirs, how they would represent themselves, what
aspects of their lives they would focus on, what sort of
tone and style of writing they would exercise to tell their
own story. We touched base on these ideas again toward
the end of this session.
Peter Anderson
The discussion over this book was excellent. Whether or
not they "liked" the book, the people in the group seemed
to come in with quite specific opening points they wanted
to discuss which led into some central themes and issues
in and beyond the text. Obviously we talked about the
immigrant experience: the expectations based on the
deceptive American dream and the isolation of these
people (especially the women, we decided) where the
contrast between the mainstream and the immigrant
cultures are ever present, and the influence of movies
which became the "most informative school" on the
children. But much of the discussion moved into the ways
different people related to the book: the communication
barriers between parents and children, the nature and
reasons for the "secrets" children keep from their parents,
the multiple identities we assume, how perilous it can be
for girls growing up -- the many ways they suffer abuse at
the hands of men. OK-- boys too can suffer abuse!
What more can I say? This was a great discussion, and it
was fun to be a part of it.
Bob Brown
I started out our discussion of Bronx Primitive with a "show
& tell" of photos from books about the Jewish/NY
immigrant experience. The books were New York in the
1930s, (a collection of photos from the period), How We
Lived by Irving Howe, (a fascinating book covering topics
from culture to politics to family relationships) and Bintel
Briefs (sorry, I took the book back already & don't recall
the author, but it was a collection of letters that were
published in the Forward newspaper, to which Kate
alludes at the start of the book, in the scene where her
mother is reading stories of people's hardships and
laughing). We used images and various passages from
these three books to discuss Kate's childhood, neighbors,
difficulties, and talents, and compare them in some cases
to Annie Dillard, about whom we read last month.
Compared to Annie, whom most readers didn't really like
and could not relate to, Kate's book was very well
received, her experiences seemed real, and her retelling
of childhood memories rang true for readers. The
discussion ultimately led where I hoped it would go - to a
discussion of the group's own memories, family histories
and impulses to write them down or orally record them. I
think we are all reexamining what it means to be "ordinary"
vs. what it means to have an "ordinary" life.
These series lends itself naturally to a discussion of the
nature of memory and the voice of the narrator. It's been
interesting for us to compare these elements in the three
memoirs we've now done. We talked about places in the
memoir where Kate Simon looking back recognized
significant turning points in her quest for autonomy. We
agreed that most of can look back at our childhood and
recognize moments that had significance beyond what we
were able to really understand at the time. One other
intriguing element in the book that someone brought up is
the pervasive "craziness" that seemed to prevail, not even
just in some of the people, but also in the
"ununderstandability" (Simon's word) of so many things.
This group had no problem with "How does my world
relate to this book?" Even those who didn't like the book
acknowledged its potential universality. I was stimulated
by this group's approach to the book. I couldn't let go of
the discussion in my mind even with the help of a nice
glass of wine when I got home!
Julianne Couch
As the Wheatland began its discussion of Bronx Primitive,
one of the participants disclosed that a grandchild had just
revealed that a teacher had sexually molested her, so that
the discussion was centered initially on, and continued to
return to, Simon‘s having been sexually molested, and
how her parents participated in this. Several group
members were astonished to learn something of how this
problem (both the molestation/abuse as well as its
repression/denial) continues to be widespread in our
culture.
Norleen Healy (Story)
After a brief introduction by me about the WCH and its
purpose and credit to the PD Debbie Sturman, the group
took over. Of the 12 participants, seven had previously
participated in Lusk BDGs, and quickly began a discussion
about the different issues in the book. These included
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This understandably lent a somewhat somber note to the
consideration of other aspects of the memoir. Surprisingly
to me, the group took up the issue of abortion, and in a
limited manner expressed their differing points of view
about this; yet no one seemed upset at the disclosure of
the widespread use of abortion disclosed in the book.
Several in my generation expressed how lucky these
immigrant women were to have professional medical
abortions, rather than the horrific attempts and results
dating from our earlier adult years, and the preceding
generations of American women.
exchanged ideas was on how actions or events
sometimes need to be ―named‖ or identified to have a kind
of reality, and further, that which is named or identified can
affect not only which story is told, but who tells it. Several
suggested that those who do the identifying achieve a kind
of power, as in the case of Kate Simon telling the story of
her family‘s experiences. Several commented on how
Simon‘s memoirs not only draw her portrait for the reader,
but that these narratives offer the reader valuable
sketches of the city and the era as well, noting how
community attitudes toward abortion, spousal abuse, and
children have changed in a relatively short span of time.
Readers expressed interest in Simon‘s subsequent
autobiographical works, wondering what ―happened next‖
in her life. As usual, this lively group offers many
provocative insights and comments for a very full evening
of ―book talk.‖
So, much to my surprise and pleasure, rather than only
discussing the more expected themes relating to Simon‘s
growing up in immigrant neighborhoods of European
descent (which were also considered) very troubling yet
immensely meaningful themes of our current lives sprang
from the memoir. Needless to say, I found this to be one
of the more challenging yet satisfying group discussions in
which I have participated. In the other group for which I
was the facilitator/scholar for Bronx Primitive, I was unable
to get any sustained response on the issues of abortion or
sexual abuse.
Ebba Stedille, Nov. 12, 2003
Tongue River: When the discussion started, there was
some general negativity about the book. Several said they
found it somewhat ―boring‖ because it was so specific and
detailed about the environs in New York City. I love that
about the book, but I guess if New York has no attraction
for a person to start with, the details about ―place‖ might
not be appealing. After hearing that her writing career
began with a guidebook to New York and then she wrote
several other successful guidebooks, the group allowed
that she has a special interest in and does details about
cities and neighborhoods particularly well.
Bob Brown
Eight folks spent a pleasant evening reminiscing about
their own childhood - growing up in this area and how it
isolates one from the world that's out there. The people
who were there appreciated the book - one of the
members had grown up in N.Y., the Bronx, Queens, etc. I
had spent some time there myself during the war and so
we were able to relate to her descriptions of
neighborhoods, etc. Surprisingly, several people did not
come because they didn't like the book. they were put off
by the "sex" in the book. I was surprised at that reaction
because the Ten Sleep folks have been very open to
reading about societies that differ in some ways from the
one in which they live. The members who were there were
appreciative of the opportunity to broaden their horizons
and are most anxious to read other things by Kate Simon.
Even though they seemed somewhat unenthused about
the memoir when we started, once the discussion got
underway, the participants really delved into the book We
talked about sexual predators and how they function then
and now so often because of the hesitancy of children to
―tell‖ for all the reasons in the book
Our group is all
women and, interestingly, we all agreed that we had had
some experiences as a child where we were in some
manner victimized sexually by men and that we didn‘t feel
like we could tell anyone. We agreed that intimacy and
sexuality were not comfortable subjects in most of our
homes as we were growing up. We had some pretty
amusing stories about how we ―found out‖ about sex!
Norma Christensen
Glenrock discussion of Bronx Primitive
We were appalled at the number of abortions Kate‘s
mother had and that hers ―was not a record in the
neighborhood, by any means‖ as she tells us. The fact
that other means of birth control was not an option for
these women was another kind of victimization. They
were interested to hear that Kate herself had two abortions
later on. Of course, we were hard on the father and talked
a great deal about him and the kind of husband and father
her was. I reminded the group that we were seeing him
only through Kate‘s bias, but they agreed with her bias.
As is typical of this thoughtful group of readers,
members openly shared their diverse reactions to Bronx
Primitive, commenting on the characters, the events, and
the style of this narrative. Three common threads wove
their way through the fabric of our discussion: one
focused on the immigrant experience, another on the roles
of various family members on the narrator‘s self concept
(many were outraged not only about the sexual abuse
Simon and the other children endured, but also saw her
father as a selfish and emotionally abusive man), and a
third centered on reality/fantasy and ―madness.‖
We talked again about the nature of a memoir…and the
contrast between the grown up voice and the child and
how the episodic nature of the book reflects those
moments or events that were significant to the child for
reasons she may only really understand later on in her life.
This group also reflected on the role of language as a
factor for inclusion or exclusion. Another intriguing aspect
of language on which group members focused and
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I asked them to think about what social forces were
arrayed against Kate and how she reacted to them. One of
the themes we looked at in the last book (Coming of
Age…) is trying to determine what gives someone the
ability to move out of all the constraints society imposes.
We agreed that both Ann Moody and Kate Simon were
unusually courageous and that they were also angry
enough to act on their anger. We also saw the value of
libraries and influential teachers for these women.
to all of the inappropriate sexual advances that were
forced on the author.
In discussion about Kate Simon herself, I explained that
she wrote this book rather late in her career and followed it
with the two other memoirs that deal with her adolescence
and then her early adult years (both of which are out of
print). The same people who were complaining initially
about Bronx Primitive insisted they were going to search
out those out of print books because they wanted to read
them!
The next book discussion for Saratoga is scheduled for
July 8, 2009 at 2 P.M and we will be discussing An
American Childhood by Annie Dillard.
Additionally, one reader stated that the author ―found her
power at the end.‖ ―It may have been the wrong kind of
power [referring to her sexuality], but that she learned how
to use it [her sexuality] and to control it.‖ All of the
participants agreed and many stated that they were
interested in reading the next two books by the author.
Stephanie Jeffers
Saratoga
The Newcastle group met on March 9, 2011, in the
Weston County Library meeting room. Thirteen members
gathered to discuss Bronx Primitive, by Kate Simon.
--Norleen Healy
What a fantastic turnout! The Saratoga Library Book
Discussion Group had twenty (20) participants signed up
and seventeen (17) attended for the first book discussion
on June 10, 2009 at 2 P.M. This was the first of four book
discussions scheduled. The first literary work discussed
was Bronx Primitive by Kate Simon.
The group members enjoyed the writing style and content
of this book more than the previous read (An American
Childhood); many felt they learned a lot about New York
City, as well as immigrant life. Although Simon was
Jewish, we didn‘t feel we learned much about that religion
because her family didn‘t seem to practice the traditions
as much as we would have expected.
The discussion began with an overview of the book and a
feel for the readers‘ reactions to the book. Some readers
felt that the author was ―too wordy‖ and ―too descriptive‖,
which made the book ―tedious‖ to read. Others seized at
the ―richness‖ of the author‘s memory at such a young
age. About half of the group stated that the book was
―disturbing‖ in describing all of the inappropriate sexual
advances that the author endured and the fact that the
parents simply turned their heads to it. However, a few of
the participants mentioned that the book did have some
humorous parts to it such as the author‘s perspective of
how she thought a baby was born, the story of how the
mother kept the carp in the bathtub until Friday night‘s
dinner and the author‘s recollection of delivering a ham
and cheese sandwich to her neighbor.
Several details really got our attention and surfaced in our
discussion. The author‘s father was a concern to most of
us; ―not a nice man‖ seemed to be the consensus. He
was insensitive to Kate Simon‘s feelings and needs from a
young age. Whether it was his expectations for her piano
playing or his punishment of not letting her attend school
for a week, we felt he had his own agenda rather than her
best interests in mind.
We also discussed the sexual experiences the author had
at a young age, as well as the ―code of silence‖ which kept
her from sharing any of the details with her mother. From
researching the author‘s life after the time frame of the
book, I was able to share the impact these early
experiences seemed to have on the author as she
experimented with sex in her adult life. Another topic of
discussion was the variety of ways life was different during
the years of this book‘s setting, such as Simon‘s mother
having had 13 abortions.
The most widely discussed topic in the group was the
complexity of human relationships that the author
experienced with different individuals throughout her
childhood. This discussion then led to many other topics
including male domination, cultural clashes, abandonment,
the author‘s survival and defense mechanisms, the fear of
talking about ―forbidden‖ subjects and abortion as a
means of birth control.
Following our book discussion, group members shared
memorabilia they had brought from their ancestors and/or
childhood. As the author described doing fancywork on
the stoop of her apt. building, I got the idea for a ―show
and tell‖ activity. From photos to jewelry to a crocheted
tablecloth, we all enjoyed seeing what each of our group
members brought to share.
The book discussion came to a close with an in-depth
conversation regarding the ―change in times‖ from when
the author grew up in comparison with growing up as a
child in today‘s world. One example given was that
children today are the center of attention; opposite of what
the author grew up in. Another example mentioned was
that as parents of children, the first priority is to protect
their children at all costs from appalling and inappropriate
behavior, whereas the author‘s parents turned their heads
Phyl Sundstrom
Five gathered in Upton to discuss Bronx Primitive. All
enjoyed the peek into immigrant life in the early 1900‘s.
Several issues were discussed and as usual time was
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spent comparing life now to the time in the book. There is
much to be thankful for this season, but the one that stood
out was the relief that Friday night‘s dinner is not
swimming in the bathtub waiting to be dispatched for the
meal. Refrigeration is a definite advance.
the reader can "see" what Simon is describing. However,
often what we "see" is painful; this is not a golden glow
type of memoir. Simon describes her childhood to age
thirteen. She is a bright child, full of doubts, full of
determination, and particularly full of hatred for her father.
We discussed her father and mother, both their
relationship with their daughter and their desires for her
future. We tried to put this in the context of early 1900s
and the immigrant experience. Sex, abortion, and lack of
birth control were impor tant themes in the book and we
talked about the development of birth control education
and the impact of the Comstock law then on the books.
The book makes it clear that sexual abuse is not a new
problem. We looked at those things that gave Simon joy the library, school (except for math), and the movies. The
memoir is a fine study of immigrant life - close neighbors
who help each other (but also grate on each other),
responsibility to the extended family, secrets kept by
parents from children and children from parents, desire to
get ahead (but women must know their place), and
respect for authority. We ended with a long discussion on
resilience - how and why does one survive, overcome?
What was it in Kate that propelled her through high school
and college? Why didn't she end up a "street girl" or a
clerk at the local five and ten? Well, we didn't quite end
there; we went on to talk about memoirs and their truth (or
not) and how Simon's story would have been a differ ent
one if her brother had written his memoir. This is a good
series.
Male domination was a theme that surfaced repeatedly in
the discussion. The women who had a say in the major
concerns of life were not abundant in this book. The men
decided how the money was to be spent and how much
was allowed for the ―needs‖ of the family. Men had affairs
and practically flaunted that in front of their wives. Betrayal
appeared to be the norm, but that could be distorted since
the author‘s opinion of her father was very low. Some in
the group felt he was molesting the author although it was
never stated. She mentioned all the other molesters, but
her dislike of her father made the readers wonder.
The mothers‘ roles in this series of memoirs were also
questioned. This mother was present, but not a force in
the girl‘s life. We wondered if mothers influenced sons
more than daughters. It was upsetting that the mother was
aware of the molesting that was happening. We suspected
the mother felt she would be used at men‘s pleasure
throughout life and might as well learn early. We could not
justify any other reason. Part of the attitude of the author
toward her mother led to the strong feminism she
displayed as she neared the teen age years.
The ―American Dream‖ has been used as a political theme
in this last election. We compared the dream of then to
now. Sadly the preceding generations had a more positive
hope than we do. Our children struggle to gain the same
level we have, but we fear our grandchildren may
backslide. In this novel the dream is sought in all its glory.
Life was better for them here than it was in the old country
and would continue to improve.
Barbara Gose
Our first meeting in the Ordinary Lives series was
attended by ten ladies. We discussed Bronx Primitive:
Portraits in a Childhood by Kate Simon (born Kaila
Grobsmith in Poland in 1912). This is the first book in a
trilogy of memoirs starting with her early life in desperate
poverty in Poland and her immigration with her family to
the U.S., through Ellis Island and to a tenement in the
Bronx. We discussed how this book is truly a coming of
age story as at the end of the book Kate is just a very
young teen.
The group noted that abortion was the means of birth
control. We were old enough to remember Roe v Wade
and the arguments presented at that time (no more back
alleys with a coat hanger). This novel made us very aware
that there was a good reason to legalize abortion then.
Now other birth control should make it obsolete. Sympathy
was felt for the women in that time.
Before the meeting I did a little Internet research and
found that the five story tenement building at 2029
Lafontaine in the Bronx where Kate Simon lived as a child
still stands. As does Crotona Park and all three of the
public schools that she attended as a child. I shared
pictures of these things, along with historic photos of old
tenements in the Bronx, the El trains, etc.
The author‘s vivid style allowed us an illustrated peek at a
time past. Her honest assessment and frank observations
made the book interesting. We were surprised at the
language she sometimes used as we thought it to be out
of place then. Perhaps not. Some interest was expressed
in reading the other two by this author about her life. The
book was not on the can‘t-be-put-down list, but it did hold
a degree of fascination.
We discussed how much we enjoyed her writing style,
especially in the more humorous stories such as the fish
swimming in the bathtub, the vacation to Coney Island,
and the jump rope rhymes which were similar to the ones
that we remembered as children. We discussed at length
the prevalence of child sexual abuse and molestation in
her life story. And the distressing fact that both of Kate‘s
parents and her brother seemed to be aware of the abuse
she suffered from the ―Greeners‖ who lived in their home
but no one did anything about it. The group members
(and apparently Kate Simon herself) were not very
impressed with Kate‘s father who seemed very self-
Ten women gathered to discuss this memoir of immigrant
life in the Bronx, New York.
I spent some time
commenting on the second memoir in this series of three.
In the second we watch Kate grow into adulthood. I also
pointed out that Simon primarily made her living through
writing travel books and only came to the memoir late in
life. Yet the memoirs are her legacy, as they are written in
such detail as to setting, atmosphere, and language that
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centered and cruel. He cheated on Kate‘s mother, and
was occasionally cruel to his children; for example when
he abandoned the Kate and her brother in front of the
store window.
that to happen, and the implications of the fact that Kate
never reported it to her parents. We also noted the
surprising presence of Dr. James, the abortionist, in the
community, and the respect he commanded. That led to a
discussion values, and of levels and kinds of loyalty, to
family, to cohort, to family of origin and to religious
teachings.
The group felt that Kate‘s strength (she fought off
molestation from Yankel all on her own) and success in
life (she came from poverty but went to college and
became a famous writer) came from her mother‘s strength
and emphasis on education. The casual revelation that
her mother had thirteen abortions in addition to three kids
was seen as a sign of the times. Women had no access
to reliable birth control in the 1920s and no right to ―say
no‖ to their husbands or control their fertility in any other
way, but they did have access to Dr. James the
abortionist.
The family relationships commanded readers' attention,
especially Kate's rebellion against her father. To many it
seemed more than childhood or early adolescent rebellion,
and more specific to Kate and her father. We spoke of the
psychology of her parents' marriage, and her father's
narcissistic entitlement which led him to want Kate to
succeed as a concert pianist for his own glory. Somehow,
this led to a discussion of gender differences, and the
question of whether they are created primarily by nature or
by socialization. Several participants had read Simon's
other memoirs, and opined that her upbringing, with its
conflict and sexuality, had damaged her, and they found
her anger and rebelliousness in this book to presage an
angry and unhappy adulthood. Several people found her
to be a difficult and angry person, while others believed
that she had, by the end of the book, begun to take charge
of her own life after having been compliant in response to
misuse in her early years. This led to comments on the
broader topic of freedom, assertiveness and victimization,
and the question of whether justified anger and
rebelliousness lead to happiness or not.
The story of little Jimmy‘s death emphasized the deadly
consequences to women who did not become educated.
Jimmy‘s mother did not learn English and was too afraid or
―ashamed‖ to go outside the apartment. She did not seek
medical care for Jimmy or ask for help from any of her
neighbors until it was too late. We discussed how, in
many ways, Kate Simon‘s life story is very much a feminist
memoir.
The group enjoyed this memoir and is looking forward to
something completely different in the second book in the
series, Madeleine L‘Engle‘s Two-Part Invention which is
the story of her long marriage.
A couple of the men in the group had expressed
reservations about the fact that this series was entirely
female
autobiographies,
but
those
reservations
disappeared in the course of the discussion, as it became
clear that the fundamental issues are broadly human.
Some participants had read works on female
developments, and we concluded with comments on
perspectives on human development, both male and
female, and began to address the question of whether
there is a single course of human development, or multiple
courses depending on gender, social world and cultural
influences.
Elaine Hayes
Twenty six participants gathered for this first discussion of
the series. We began with comments on the first chapter,
which some participants found to be a less than
compelling introduction. Others, however, thought it
introduced us to the specific geographical context of the
story, and of the author's world. This quickly led to
contributions from participants who had grown up in New
York, relating their own experiences with ethnic streets
and neighborhoods, and the importance of locating
yourself safely. These comments drew us to a discussion
of ethnicity and urban tribalism, and the ways in which it
creates, and limits identity. We observed the girls herself
went beyond the boundaries of her Jewish ethnic group
and was criticized for it.
Stephen Lottridge
Two-Part Invention
Monday the 27th saw five readers gather to discuss
Madeleine L‘Engle‘s, final Crosswick Journal– Two Part
Invention–at the Washakie County Library. Though
conflicts kept some of our readers away, they made sure
to voice their appreciation of this book at our last meeting
or when they stopped by the library for other matters.
Participants referred frequently to the idea of the melting
pot, and the conflict between maintaining one's
ethnic/religious/national identity and adopting the ways
and identity of a new culture and nation. One reader
argued that the whole idea of the melting pot has been
replaced by the idea of multiculturalism, which dilutes the
concept of a unified culture and nation. People noted that
Kate's family was not entirely typical of an immigrant
family in a ghetto, since the father had a skilled trade and
the mother was more liberated in her views and involved
in the community than were many other of the mothers.
Readers were struck by the amount of sexuality in the
book, and the fact that Kate had endured sexual
molestation or inappropriateness from at least five people
before she reached puberty. We spent some time
discussing the possible values and attitudes that allowed
Overall, readers found this book engaging or enjoyable.
One exception noted this was her second time reading the
book and she found the writing somewhat flat. We
discussed this and concluded there were two plausible
explanations. The first being this book‘s roots lie in the
personal journal–a semi-private writing form aimed at
recording an experience as opposed to presenting it. A
second possibility is that L‘Engle chose this approach to
make her philosophical gems–her reflection on the
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universal nature of life–stand out from the more mundane
stuff of living. Whether we were correct or not, we found
the idea intriguing.
For me, this final discussion offered an intriguing contrast:
the majority of the group had never read L'Engle's A
Wrinkle in Time (I must admit that I was surprised), but all
really enjoyed Two-Part Invention (in contrast to some
other groups' reactions). One reader was also reading all
of The Crosswicks Journals, giving a very high
recommendation to The Summer of the GreatGrandmother.
One other line of discussion about Two Part Invention,
centered on the amount of time the author spent on the
decline and death of Hugh. In fairness, L‘Engle may well
have worked to show us how this series of setbacks and
trials weighed on her and her family. No doubt the
untimely demise of a well-loved community figure made us
extra sensitive to the sense of loss and frustration.
Whatever the cause, several of us thought the decline and
death went on too long. If L‘Engle meant to have readers
share her experience she achieved her goal, be we didn‘t
care for the experience.
This group responded to the details of L'Engle's life as a
young adult discovering her talent and her future in New
York, as well as her forthright reflections on the nature of
spirituality. (The group was astonished that L'Engle's
books have been challenged or banned in some school
programs or public libraries.) We discussed the ideas of
the relationship between the creative life and spirituality,
as well as the artist's role or purpose in the world, as
defined by L'Engle.
Her philosophy of "universal
connectedness" seemed to echo what many in the group
believed to be true.
The group appreciated her
comments on the nature of love as in "To love wholly,
generously and yet retain the core that makes you you"
and especially her note regarding consumerism, "Today
we live in a society that seems to be less and less
concerned with reality...perhaps the most dehumanizing
thing of all is that we have allowed the media to call us
consumers-ugly....anger consumes.
The rest of the evening we discussed which book we liked
the best, which came closest to our own lives, and which
book presented an "Ordinary life." Though American
Childhood most closely matched the experiences of about
half the readers, it remained the least enjoyed book. All
but the Waltz placed a close second in terms of
representing a familiar experience but ranked further up
the list of approval. Bronx Primitive most foreign in
ethnicity and setting placed first on the list of interest. Two
Part Invention landed a spot high on the like-ability list but
was a non-contender in terms of matching anyone‘s life
experience. In the end, we concluded the "ordinary" factor
of a life lies with the beholder and familiarity may not
breed contempt but neither does it automatically breed a
keen interest.
Forest fires consume.
Cancer consumes."
Her
discussion of fire versus cold in regards to evil also
prompted some talk. (I'd intended to bring up Frost's "Fire
and Ice", but unfortunately forgot during our stimulating
and far-ranging discussion.) Individual members were
most touched by the chronology of her husband's illness,
and the manner in which she handled it. (Some did feel
there was more "distance" in that part, as if she had lightly
touched the wound of her loss, but it was still too sore to
examine too closely or for too long) It was this all too
common life challenge that made our group see her both
as an "ordinary " and an "extraordinary" woman. This led
to a discussion of medical decisions made to prolong life
versus quality of life. (Group members also felt L'Engle
was quite generous and sympathetic to the challenges the
doctors faced; many admitted they might not be as kind
and forgiving as she.)
"I think this may be the best book I have ever read," said
one of the participants. And there was not much
disagreement because all of them like this book. They
principally liked the sequential story style and they liked
Madeleine. There was warmth and comfort in the story,
they said, even with the difficulties that were part of the
memoir.
L'Engle provides lots of opportunity to discuss humanities
values: life and death, marriage, family, grieving,
philosophy, religion and prayer, and of course the two-part
invention The readers loved the Franklin marriage. Their
acceptance of each other; their support for each other;
their abillity to learn, grow, and their sense of optimism.
They liked the concept of spiritual growth that L'Engle
describes.
We also talked of the title "Two-part invention" and its
relationship to music. Several felt it was the perfect
choice, since she was offering us two separate and
distinct stories-hers and her husband's-yet the two stories
together formed a counterpoint, a harmony that was their
life together.
There was a good final discussion of the series, Ordinary
Lives. What is ordinary and aren't we all both ordinary and
not ordinary? The four writers, Dillard, Mora, Blew and
L'Engle, were both. The lessons of all four of survival and
growth and the nature of them as individual writers. The
sense of memoir and the history of a story and how it
changes was discussed. And finally, was the series a
good investment of their time? The answer was a
resounding yes.
We concluded our hour and a half discussion with a
discussion of the group's "favorite" reads of the series:
Annie Dillard's An American Childhood and Anne Moody' s
coming of Age in Mississippi were singled out for that
honor. Again, as is usual with this group of dedicated and
thoughtful readers, we all enjoyed a wonderful evening
exploring philosophies, narrating experiences, and sharing
a laugh or two. It was good.
Six of us shared this final discussion at the Wright
Branch Library and planned our next series.
Patty
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Ebba Stedillie, 3-17-04
We had an enjoyable discussion.
Maggie Garner
My group responded favorably to Two-Part Invention. In a
way, it represented the marriage ideal of many in the
group (average age 65-68 years). A few observant
readers noticed, however, that L‘Engle regressed to the
status of ordinary human when it came to describing her
husband‘s death. The elegant writer could manage little
more than clichés.
The group enjoyed this book and felt that the illness was
not difficult to deal with because of L'Engle's attitude.
They did not feel she whitewashed the marriage. We
looked at passages where she acknowledged that the
marriage had some hard times, but she chose not to
elaborate. We discussed the effect of writing this book
while her husband was dying.
Samuel Western, 3-10-04
We talked about many aspects of the book--L'Engle's
spiritual life, the artists' world, love, our oneness in the
world, our consumer culture, fear, marriage. People could
relate to many of L'Engle's comments. I made copies of
some of the pages from the websites devoted to her.
Our discussion began with each person offering
comments on her reaction to the book. Reactions to the
book were mixed. A number of participants were put off
by the overt spirituality of the author while others were
displeased with what they described as L‘Engle‘s
shameless name dropping. Other readers noted that
though they are not spiritual people, they were engaged
by the ease with which L‘Engle integrated her spiritual life
into the narrative. One reader commented that she
wished she could have faith like L‘Engle‘s. Readers also
commented that they thought L‘Engle ―held back‖ in the
text; that is, they felt that she hinted at a story but would
then pull back and not disclose it. Also, though the book
was subtitled ―The Story of A Marriage,‖ several
participants felt that L‘Engle gave a one-sided perspective
on the marriage, offering only her own attitudes and
opinions about the relationship. Several felt they didn‘t
actually learn much about the husband. One standout
feature of the text was the prolonged attention L‘Engle
gave to her husband‘s struggle with terminal cancer.
While some found that material difficult to read, most felt
that she offered something of a model of how to live
through such a catastrophic event, especially in terms of
taking care of oneself in such crises. Overall, the group
was engaged by the book though it was clearly not the
favorite of the majority.
When comparing the books in the series, we noted that
each was written by the oldest (or only) daughter in the
family. We reviewed again the idea of selective memory
when writing memoirs.
Maggie Garner
(Jackson)
A mild discussion. Most participants responded warmly to
the book. We seemed to spend most of our time talking
about the right of an individual to selectively report their
own history (a question to which the Pinedale group
responded quite differently in their discussion). The
Jackson group granted L'Engle a great deal of latitude for
her apparently whitewashed memories of her husband. I
related the history of L'Engle's theological writing,
particularly her interest in the correspondence between
science and religion, and that sparked a lengthy debate
among several group members about the gentle spiritual
aspect of Two-Part Invention.
Peaches Henry, 3-2-04
(Pinedale)
For the Pinedale group, this was the most annoying book.
Not one participant accepted the manner in which
Madeleine L'Engle portrayed her husband, and that was a
fatal flaw, as far as they were concerned. Because the
book purports, at least at the outset to be about her
marriage, but then studiously avoid any meaningful
description of marital friction, these readers felt they could
not trust L'Engle in general. I explained the circumstances
in which the book was written, which helped relax the
discussion.
Members really enjoyed this book. It was very accessible
to them. They liked L'Engle's writing style (whereas they
disliked Dillard's). There were some complaints about the
"errors" in the text so we talked about the book's
conversational, journal style.
We talked about L'Engle's views on marriage and love,
and people had a lot of personal history from which to
draw (one member has been married for 63 years!). We
discussed the spiritual element within well-functioning
marriages. We spent a fair amount of time on L'Engle's
spiritual views and the function of prayer. Most people
were touched and inspired by her optimism.
We talked some about optimism, L'Engle's approaches to
optimism through psychology, through prayer, through
labor and the work of everyday life, even through
perception of the natural world. We talked about artistic
creativity, which figures heavily in the lives of both Hugh
and Madeleine, and her notion of love as creativity. We
talked about houses as symbols of human lives, referring
back to House of Houses. We talked about "kything."
We also looked at the various "worlds" L'Engle presented-the artists' world, the parents' world, the spouses' world,
the caregivers' world--and how she balanced these
various worlds.
(Dubois)
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The first book of the season in Dubois, and we had a
rollicking discussion of marriage and non-marriage. I
attempted to start the evening by playing short pieces from
Bach's "Two-Part Invention" and the "Well-Tempered
Clavier," but my portable CD player wouldn't work, and the
illustration was lost, and I foundered. Oh, well. We're all
good friends.
Comparisons to the tone and attitude of previous books
read in the series led to agreement that L'Engle's quiet
composure and optimism about life had great appeal to
the group. This led to a nice discussion of the memoir
writer's selectivity and how the memory shapes events of
the past. They found L'Engle's account of coping with
Hugh's death to be comforting and true to their own
experiences of coping with death. One person wondered
how the book would be different if Hugh had died suddenly
rather than slowly as he did.
I thought the music would serve as a great depiction of the
type of interlocking structure that Madeleine L'Engle was
trying to describe. The failure of my technology just made
it easier to begin talking about that structure. We all
described what it was we thought she might have meant
by a "two-part invention."
Marcia Hensley
Overall, the group's reaction to the book was similar to that
of groups in other locations: they weren't sure they trusted
Madeleine L'Engle to be telling the whole story about her
husband and their marriage. But the Dubois group didn't
seem to mind that so much. Most participants simply
accepted the fact that she wasn't out to do an expose on
their life together, but simply to collect her journal
fragments into an elegiac whole. Great discussion of
theater life. Everybody has a story or two about being in
the theater.
The group responded warmly to Two-Part Invention,
especially the last part that describes the lingering death
of L‘Engle‘s husband of 40 years, Hugh Franklin. As one
participant observed, L‘Engle works through a lot of
grieving issues in this section. Several of the women had
lost mothers or friends to long illnesses, and they
commented in particular that they wish they had known
this book earlier because L‘Engle‘s insights into death and
grief might have provided them with some clarity or
direction for their own experiences. They found the book
wise–mature and comforting.
I found a L'Engle quote somewhere: "A story should be
like the earth: a blazing fire at the core, but cool and green
on the surface." When I shared this with the group, they
leaped on it, and that simple idea sparked fifteen minutes
of interesting debate about writing in general, about this
book specifically and about personalities.
It‘s clear not everyone responds this way to the long,
sometimes horrific description of Franklin‘s death. One
woman who did not attend the discussion reportedly was
vehement in her dislike of the book, especially of the last
part, saying it was foul and that if we were going to read
more like this book then she was done with the discussion
group. The group agreed that one‘s personal response to
the book would be bound inextricably with one‘s own life
and death experiences.
Peter Anderson
This was a very lively discussion! Most really enjoyed this
book. There was considerable discussion about the title:
were the two parts (interlocking structures, like Bach's
famous piece) life & death? past & present? marriage?
science & theology? It was great!
One passage that the group found especially resonant
within the book was the part about Bach that L‘Engle
quotes from her younger self‘s journal: ". . . ‗Bach‘s
immense and vital freedom within the tight boundaries of
strict form. Perhaps that‘s why life doesn‘t drive one mad;
it‘s interesting to see how alive and free one can remain
within the limits that are always imposed on one and from
which there can be no escape‘" (41). Members of the
group applied this idea to everything from writing closed
form poetry to living with a concept of free will to staying
vital within a marriage to living in the knowledge of death.
A gentleman in the group has participated in one of the
author's writing workshops and he added real depth to the
discussion. He took the group into a discussion about
L'Engle's theology, which I was able to back up with
quotes from an interview with her. The result was
everyone wanted to read more from her.
The group also appreciated L‘Engle‘s prose which they
found simple, lucid, and flowing. While a couple of people
thought there was too much name dropping in the first
section of the book, everyone enjoyed the glimpses of
L‘Engle‘s life as an artist and in the theatre. L‘Engle‘s
humor was appreciated, too–the tramp all over Baltimore
carrying Touché, L‘Engle dropping to her knees at the
unexplained command of her husband, blinds dates
making L‘Engle vomit (well, that and a shellfish allergy),
the flushed ashtray.
Ann Noble (Big Piney group)
Group members wanted to talk about the issues related to
what makes a good marriage, especially L'Engle's point
about each individual needing to keep a core of his/her
own identity separate form the marriage. They speculated
about the paragraph in which L'Engle admits that there
were "deserts" in their marriage because in this book their
marriage is represented as ideal. They wondered if the
previous book listed on the book jacket, The Irrational
Season, might not be about the less than perfect parts of
their lives and decided they would like to read it, as well as
other books by L'Engle.
In general, the Powell group found Two-Part Invention a
tremendously affirming book.
Deb Koelling
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"hills and valleys" (or whatever). They were moved by her
claims about her marriage (actually one person to tears).
Interestingly, most seemed to have some personal story
that made this memoir particularly meaningful to them,.
fen in terms of watching someone die. They liked the fact
that she didn't spare the unsavory clinical details such as
the "green fluid" that washed over L'Engle's hand as Hugh
died, and yet didn't dwell on them...illustrating that that
was just one part of the death. They wanted to talk about
the title and all the ways she shows ''two parts"/
juxtapositions. We had an especially interesting discussion
about the theology she explores...her spiritual
development, her incarnational view of the universe, and
particularly her acknowledgment of evil and its meaning.
One person had chosen several passages relating to
these issues to read. While most said they preferred the
second part of the book describing Hugh's illness and
death, they were also interested in her earlier life with Dr.
Tyler (whom many remembered) and all the notable
people she refers to and there were no accusations of
"name dropping" either!
Here again, there was a drastic difference between how
much this group appreciated this book and its reception in
other groups. This group actually loved this memoir. In
general they found it authentic, realistic, honest,
personally revealing, accessible and well-written. I think
only one person didn't care for it.
We talked about how people handle death. We talked
about how children often handle difficult times and crises
better than adults. We talked about depictions of marriage,
both fictional and non. We talked about stardom and the
way it affects life (one member of the group has a son who
is a prominent TV actor, and that was fun to hear about).
We talked about houses, and what certain houses have
meant to each of us in the past or present.
I brought up the notion of form and content, and we talked
about this book from that stand-point, comparing how a
writer describes an event to the substance of the event
itself. We went back through the series and talked about
each of the previous books - American Childhood, Road
Song, Bronx and Mississippi - in that light. We did this as a
way of exploring further the concept of memoir, what it
means to tell one's own story.
Norleen Healy
We had a good discussion of Two-part Invention. All
members of the group liked the book - in spite of the
sadness, they all felt good after reading it - primarily
because it focused on such a healthy and sustaining
relationship between L'engle, her husband, her family, and
all her friends. Since that kind of relationship is hard to find
anymore, the readers relished reading about hers.
Peter Anderson
We began our discussion of Madeline L'Engle's book by
reflecting on how it was perfectly titled: how the musical
piece called a "two-part invention," where each hand plays
its own melody and yet works within a prescribed form in
concert with the other hand, was a ideal metaphor for the
marriage that Madeline and her husband shared. The
course of our discussion mirrored, interestingly, the form
of the book--alternating back and forth between intensity
and lightness: on the one hand, eyes glistening with tears
as we connected with the book's account of death and
dying; on the other hand, eyes shining with laughter as we
recollected, with L'Engle, the rich anecdotes of her travels
with Fou-Fou.
They also recognized the differences between their own
lives and the lives of the people in the book, but they
enjoyed the book for that very reason. What an
opportunity to learn about "how the other half lives".
Norma Christensen
Rick Kempa (Green River group)
To my surprise, the group loved this book! They related
sympathetically to Madeleine‘s experiences with the
progression of Hugh‘s fatal illness. As with Road Song
and Natalie‘s teenage pregnancy, the group thought
Madeleine‘s dealing with Hugh‘s dying could be a textbook
on how to do this effectively. When I asked if any were
suspicious of her possibly idealizing her marriage, the
response was that she was writing this as he was dying,
and most, having gone through similar experiences,
understood that Madeleine would not be belaboring
negative aspects of the marriage at such a time. Several
shared personal stories of being with a loved one as they
died, and others nodded their heads understandingly.
I expected a mixed reaction from the group about this
book, but didn't get one. Other than Road Song, this was
the memoir that evoked the most enthusiasm. They didn't
even want to consider that the depiction of the marriage
might have been idealized. In fact, a couple of them were
ready for me one that one, pointing out those few
passages where L'Engle did acknowledge that there were
They thought the memories of Madeleine‘s childhood and
development as an actress and writer were interesting,
and her recounting of the on again off again courtship by
Hugh realistic. Similarly, they related to and shared
stories about their own experiences with indifferent and
rude doctors. Although the tone of the group was quiet
(as in peaceful), the group was by and large self-initiating
and sustaining in its consideration of this memoir.
Our evening's discussion ended with some general
comments about patterns, and the lack of them , in the six
books of the series. It was good to hold all the books in
our minds' eyes one last time and to reflect how--the title
of the series notwithstanding--they were each accounts of
"extra-ordinary" women transcending, through their
courage and strength of will, the "ordinary" circumstances
of their particular times and places.
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and the difficulties she experienced trying to get it
published in the early 1960s. I began the actual book
discussion by asking everyone to share their general
impressions of the memoir.
Bob A. Brown
Our last discussion of the series was on a book most of
the group liked a great deal. Many of them had read other
works by L'Engle, both her children's lit (Wrinkle in Time,
etc.) and her newer works of fiction and memoir. As a
whole the group expressed that they'd like to read more by
L'Engle, whom they viewed as an intelligent and
inspirational writer and woman. They seemed to enjoy
both parts of the book equally - they found the
reminiscences of theatrical life interesting and the sections
about marriage and family life to ring true. I was interested
in the group's comparison of Annie Dilliard and Madeline
L'Engle. They both had a fairly privileged upbringing,
aesthetically and intellectually, if not economically. But
they found Dilliard's recounting of her childhood to be a bit
boasting, or false, or something, while L'Engle's
personality and life story they found to be compelling and
real. We wrapped up the session with the same questions
I always pose: 1) was this woman's life "ordinary" (the
answer to each book in the series has been a resounding
No) and 2) why on earth would anybody take such
personal material and write a memoir for the world.
Answers to this question have ranged during the series
from "writer catharsis" to "helping readers through
troubles" and finally, that old standby "to earn a buck." In
the case of this book, answers 1 & 2 prevailed.
About one third of the group enjoyed the first part of the
book (Madeleine's exciting life as a Broadway actress in
the 1940s) but disliked the second part (the often brutal
recounting of the last few months of her husband Hugh's
life and battle with cancer). Another third did not care for
the first part of the book (a life so different from their own)
but identified strongly with Madeleine's grief during Hugh's
swift decline in health (many had had similar experiences).
The final third appreciated what both parts of the memoir
had to offer.
We went on to discuss the meaning of the title Two Part
Invention, the dualities of husband/wife, life/death, etc. I
also brought up the connection to Bach's piano piece Two
Part Invention which is mentioned more than once in the
memoir and reflected in the organization of the chapters of
the book (Prelude, Interlude, Two Part Invention). We then
went on to discuss the fact that this book was written very
soon after Hugh's death with the help of Madeleine's
personal diary, which could explain why the pain felt so
fresh and the details were so graphic. One group member
commented that her writing felt so immediate and real that
you could even tell which stage of grief (denial, anger,
acceptance, etc.) the author was experiencing at that
particular moment in time. Madeleine also shares much of
her personal spirituality and musing on Christianity in the
second part of the book but to my surprise no one seemed
put off by that. Group members felt that her thoughts on
spirituality are so personal that they come across as
inspirational but not dogmatic. Some group members
thought the book would be an appropriate and helpful gift
to those experiencing a partner's death because of the
author's inspirational and optimistic tone. We were all
impressed with the multitude of lifelong friends both
Madeleine and Hugh had and what exceptional people
they must have been to keep such good friends. The
importance of these friends to Madeleine and her children
during their grieving process was also very evident.
Julianne Couch
We ended on a note I am fond of. At the end of any event
or transaction, two things are true. It is not enough, in the
sense that there is more to say and many of the questions
have not been conclusively answered. And it is enough,
because we have had this time and have invested
ourselves in it.
--Stephen Lottridge
--Elaine Hayes
A very subdued and quiet group of twelve met to discuss
L'Engle's Two Part Invention. It seemed the book had
stirred up still painful memories of the deaths of parents,
spouses and siblings. Some shared their memories of
being with those who died, as they suffered their fatal
illnesses. Some remembered the soap that featured Hugh.
None were bothered by Madeleine's choice of memories. I
played a recording of Bach.
I opened the discussion of L'Engle's Two Part Invention by
playing a few of Bach's two part inventions. Since many
group members weren't sure what the musical term
meant, I defined it, then shared a few pertinent L'Engle
quotes from an interview, and we were off. Discussion
started with comments on L'Engle's style, which the
overall group did not enjoy as much as Dillard's style. One
comment was that L'Engle seemed too self-indulgent, and
her prose was more mechanical and tedious than fluid.
One person wondered if her words were taken mostly from
old journals, as she thought the book seemed somewhat
unpolished and disjointed. A few of us, however, enjoyed
the direct, simple style of Madeleine L'Engle, and all could
relate and appreciate her messages about marriage and
loss. Though we would have liked to have heard more
about the day-to-day tribulations of her marriage, we
agreed that this book might offer great comfort for those
--Bob Brown
I started the session by sharing some additional
biographical information about Madeleine L'Engle. I
passed around a juvenile biography of the author that
featured several photographs of her at various points in
her life, her family and her home in rural Connecticut. We
then listened to a brief audiotape of Madeleine L'Engle
speaking about her most famous novel A Wrinkle in Time
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going through the process of losing a loved one. The topic
of dealing with loss led into a brief discussion on how
difficult a decision it would be to stop medical treatment for
a loved one, and several members shared stories of their
own friends or relatives who had struggled with bladder
cancer. Finally, we talked about the calming and healing
power of music and how L'Engle calls it her "proportion
maker."
a child and whether or not parents today are too overprotective. We compared the book to other books in the
series, one member thought it closest to House of Houses
because both are about immigrant families, language
difficulties, ethnic discrimination and trying to fit-in in
American culture, another felt the urban atmosphere was
closest to An American Childhood and another just
emphasized how it was the polar opposite of the rural and
isolated family in All But the Waltz.
We agreed that, thought L'Engle's style differed greatly
from Dillard's, her basic optimism and belief in
interconnectedness was similar to Dillard's philosophy, as
were their perhaps not so ordinary backgrounds. We
closed discussion by listening to one more Bach invention.
We also discussed the character of Dr. James and how
lucky they were (in 1917-1925) to have access to a
competent and inexpensive abortionist/obstetrician. We
discussed how the economic conditions, lack of birth
control options and the sorry state of women's rights at the
time led them to have so few options other than large
families or frequent abortions. Despite the overall dark
tone of the book (lots of bad things happen in this book)
we enjoyed some of the more light-hearted stories (her
mother's humorous mistakes while learning English, etc)
and Simon's toughness and street smarts. Several group
members found Kate Simon a very interesting person and
enjoyed her writing style. I also had copies of Simon's two
other memoirs and a couple of her travel books to share
with the group. Two of the group members expressed
interest in reading the next memoir in the series and one
of them checked out the library's copy of the book before
she left. At the end of the discussion we shared some New
York cheesecake and coffee.
--Kathy Bjornestad
We had nine people for this last discussion in the Ordinary
Lives series. I began the discussion with a quick biography
of Kate Simon and passed around some books with
pictures of New York immigrant and tenement life in the
early 20th century. Among the books I used were "How
We Lived: A Documentary History of Immigrant Jews in
America" by Irving Howe, "Shutting Out the Sky: Life in the
Tenements of New York, 1880-1915" by Deborah Hopkins
and "New York An Illustrated History" by Ric Burns.
I had also looked up Kate Simon (as Kaila Grobsmith) in
the Ellis Island website and found the arrival records for
her and her mother, father and younger brother. The
website told exactly what day they arrived, where they
were from and a picture of the ship that brought them from
Rotterdam to New York; so I passed around that
information also. This little show-and-tell set us up to begin
the discussion by talking about the immigrant experience.
A few of the class members shared some of the stories of
immigrant life that had been passed down through their
families and we compared them to Simon's family's
experiences.
--Elaine Hayes
Following the suggestion of Elaine Hayes in her notes for
the Cheyenne BDG, I looked up the Ellis Island
information for the Grubschmidt family, the only name that
seemed to match with the dates and family members. I
also printed a copy of the picture of their ship. Thank you,
Elaine. The group seemed to return frequently to the
father, with opinions varying from the usual "beast" to an
appreciation for the fact that he always worked and
provided for the family, including their immigration to
America.
When I asked for general comments one class member
who had grown up in Brooklyn shared some of her
memories of hanging out on stoops and playing jump rope
games similar to the ones that Simon describes. She
praised the rich descriptive detail in Simon's writing that
makes you feel like you're a part of that particular time and
place. Two of the ladies in the group are Jewish and one
was disappointed that there wasn't more of Jewish culture
and traditions in the book (because Simon's family was not
devout) and the other lady thought Simon focused too
much on the negative and didn't highlight the more
positive aspects of Jewish life.
Some in the group found Simon's descriptions of her
Bronx neighborhood boring, so I used the descriptions and
role of place in each of the other books in the series to
contextualize the Bronx neighborhood descriptions. It
seemed to help, as there was then some discussion of all
of our lack of experience with growing up in an inner city
environment. This led to consideration of the role of place
and geography in each of the many personal childhood
anecdotes that were then shared by the group members,
including their street and yard and pasture childhood
games. An interesting alternative framing of the sexual
exploitation of Kate and the predictable secrecy, was that
peer pressure to keep such things secret might have out
weighed the fear of telling her parents. Comments about
Dr. James and his abortions and care of the women in the
tenements brought only comments appreciative of the
freedom from back alley abortions and constant fear,
which many in the group who are in my age group
remember. The discussion also considered the lack of
birth control information and contraception alternatives
This second lady and another group member were also
very shocked by the emphasis on sexual abuse in the
second half of the book. They believed she might have
overemphasized the incidents (if they happened at all) to
sell more books. Others in the group praised her honesty
and believed her account had the ring of truth. We
discussed the taboo against talking about sex and sexual
abuse and whether or not children today would be as
reluctant to tell their parents as Simon was. This also
brought up Simon's freedom on the streets of the Bronx as
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available at the time. There was also good-natured teasing
of the other man in the group and myself, red-faced, about
why we couldn't, and I quote, "just keep it in our pants". I
think we quickly changed the subject.
of grief if she had been more open. This group absolutely
loved how Simon created caricatures of minor characters
and found a lot of humor in them. We didn't talk a lot about
feminism, but I did bring up the passage where Simon
speaks of the "paper strengths" of men. Such great
phrasing! Another bit of trivia members observed - Simon's
siblings are never given names. Also, this book elicited a
lot of talk about Jewish culture and the different kinds of
Jews.
--Bob Brown
In general, everyone like the book. One participant thought
the incidents in the book were "made up" retrospectively,
and not what had really happened. That led to a lively
discussion of memory and truth, and whether there is such
a thing as "truth" separate from subjective experience.
Much of the discussion centered on the immigrant
experience, with several participants sharing their own
family stories. Central themes were ghetto-ization as
opposed to integration, the struggle of parents to maintain
authority when they were culturally and linguistically
outside of the dominant culture, and less adept at
negotiating it than their children were, sexual mores and
how they have changed, and the differential valuing of
males and females. Many participants noted the central
role of movies in "educating" Kate and other immigrant
children about "real" American life, and the falseness of
that education.
--Kathy Bjornestad
This book was well received by all seven participants and
myself. This discussion truly led itself as issues of
feminism dominated the talk. When asked why the book
was so well liked, most cited the vivid descriptions and
wordplay of people, lifeways, and tenement life in a city.
The first theme to arise, to my surprise, was abortion and
the good Doctor. The elders of the group commented on
how far we have come from backstreet mutilations and
crude instruments. It was noted also that should Roe v.
Wade be overturned, women would turn right back to the
same mechanisms available previously. We had quite a bit
of discussion on the abuse of the narrator and her father's
culpability. This led to communication barriers between
children and parents: which secrets do kids keep and
why?
We discussed the view of marriage as a state of being
rather than a choice, and how that has changed over the
past generation or two, and what implications that has for
individuals and the structure of the family, community and
society. Many participants were struck by the model of
Kate's mother, who was more emancipated than many of
the immigrant wives, and who offered Kate a spoken
message of independence. Family loyalty - its virtues and
weaknesses - evoked considerable discussion, as did the
uses and misuses of a traditional family structure in which
the children formed a separate subculture with its own
rules and standards. Perhaps the most difficult topic was
that of sexuality, including sexual coming of age against a
background of molestation, abortion, reproduction and
exploitation.
Lots of talk about feminist issues such as roles of men;
men walking in front of women; farm wives voting and
asking husbands if they voted correctly; help groups;
marriage in other cultures; concepts of women as property
or chattel. Libraries as sanctuaries came up and most
agreed that as readers we took solace there, as did Kate.
Movies and transmission of culture and mores was a topic,
as was death (Jimmy's) and religion - why were the
children not allowed to attend his funeral? All agreed that
sex education in families was scarcely a part of our lives
and why that would be. One lady related how a relative
came to be pregnant at the same time as her daughter-inlaw, (I believe), and how they sat and knitted for the
babies, but never, ever once commented on the other's
pregnancy. Another told how pregnant women were
hidden from view by oilcloth pinned to the door so only
their faces showed to anyone approaching the home.
--Stephen Lottridge
This book was very well-received. Members thought
Simon's voice distinctive, her style easy to read, brisk,
bold, and well-described. They loved her stark, sometimes
surprising stories, which added flavor and interest to the
book. Finally, they found this book more cohesive than a
few others in the series and weren't bothered at all by the
blunt sexual episodes (this group is very progressive!).
One member had been to a tenement museum in New
York and entertained us with vivid descriptions of the awful
conditions in which immigrants lived. Kate's father and
mother elicited lots of responses-especially the father.
Governments limiting the number of children per family
generated much discussion. The policy in China of one
child resulting in the imbalance of males to females and
the future problems as a result of that policy worldwide led
to general discussion of sterilization without consent
(mentally ill, for example). Our Mexican reader relayed
how some women in larger cities in Mexico have been
sterilized without their knowledge after the birth of
children. We also talked about the elderly in society and
how different cultures deal with our elders. Life and death.
As a group of mostly women, they were offended by the
father's treatment of his family (whom he didn't even
consider his real family!) and females in general, and we
discussed briefly how his own upbringing influenced his
views. We also thought it a shame that the mother was so
sexually repressed when she could have spared Kate a lot
We wound up theorizing the purpose for writing the book.
Most felt it was an act of healing that Ms. Simon was
unable to undertake until most of her relatives were dead.
That led to the stability of memory in a culture of the
written word versus oral traditions, and which might be the
more accurate. Very enjoyable discussion.
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children and have time for your work, the importance of
mentoring (L'Engle was wonderful at this), the importance
of religion, how to make a marriage w ork long term. This
is a wonderful series with much to think and to talk about.
We look forward to our next discussion of AN AMERICAN
CHILDHOOD. And by the way, Madeline reads the audio
version of A WRINKLE IN TIME. LIsten to it, even if you
read the book as a child or read it to your children! Her
own children believed that her fiction was more truthful of
her family's life than the memoirs were. Barbara Gose
--Kim Knowlton
These ladies all responded positively to the memoir. A
few found it difficult emotionally because they shared
L‘Engle‘s experience of tending to a dying member of the
family.
In our discussion, we addressed many of the same issues
I referred to in my report of the Clearmont group last week.
As we did then, we delved pretty deeply into the issues of
medicine, technology, and prolonging life, and we had a
provocative discussion about religion and science.
Fourteen of our regulars gathered to discuss Two-Part
Invention by Madeleine L‘Engle. This fourth installment in
her Crosswicks series of memoirs is about her happy forty
year marriage to the actor Hugh Franklin and Hugh‘s
eventual death from bladder cancer. The ladies could
identify with many of the familiar parts of L‘Engle‘s life
such as her marriage, rural life, owning a business, the
birth of her children and caring for Hugh before his death.
We all also enjoyed experiencing vicariously the more
exotic lifestyle that she lived as an actress, famous writer
and wife of a famous television actor. Some of them even
remembered watching Hugh Franklin in the television
soap opera All My Children.
We compared this to the other three memoirs we‘ve done
so far, and the group felt that L‘Engle, even though her life
was so different from ours, was someone they could relate
to. They felt like she was someone they would enjoy
talking with; they weren‘t so sure about Annie Dillard in
that regard!
Of the fifteen members attending, a few have joined just
this year as the series has progressed and have
integrated nicely into this group of thoughtful, well read
women.
There is quite a lot to discuss and to enjoy in this memoir.
We started out chatting about Madeleine‘s early life in
Manhattan, Europe and Florida during the depression, and
then the group shared all of their favorite and rather
humorous stories of her career as an actress in New York
City in the 1940s. The group loved the stories about the
acting dog Touché and L‘Engle‘s other lively costars.
-Norleen Healy
Fifteen women gathered to discuss Madeline L'Engle's
memoir of her marriage. After introductions I asked each
person to explain her reaction to the book and whether or
not she had read other L/Engle books. Most had read A
WRINKLE IN TIME, but no others until TWO PART
INVENTION. I had brought the new graphic novel of
WRINKLE with me and everyone was interested in seeing
this version of the (mostly) beloved novel. Some of the
reactions to the book were the following: couldn't stand
the skipping back and forth from Hugh's illness to the
couple's earlier married life, loved the back and forth,
found Madeline too full of herself, love how she told so
much about her life, in other words, people had strong
feelings and loved the book or just thought it ho hum. As
a group we found her discussion of faith valuable and
nuanced. We admired her discipline for exercise, for
work, for life's challenges. She wrote beautifully and
movingly about marriage. Many in attendance felt tha t
she could and would be a role model for them in work,
family, and marriage. But one woman had done a little
research and read the 2004 New Yorker article that
explores some of the L'Engle myths. So had I, and I had
also just read the wonderful book of interviews with
dozens of L'Engle friends, family, literary associates,
religious figures, etc. ( LISTENING FOR MADELINE by
Leonard Marcus) And these sometimes portray a very
different marriage and family life. We talked about what
should and should not be included in a memoir and I
pointed out that L'Engle did not believe that authors should
air dirty laundry in their books. We contrasted this belief to
more recent memoirs that do just that. Is this memoir
dated? Perhaps, but there is much to think about in the
book; how to mesh two careers in a marriage, how to raise
The prevailing theme of the book and the concept that
unites it all is love in all forms. This love is expressed as
the romantic love between Hugh and Madeleine, love for
their children, their home (Crosswicks), love of their art
(writing and acting), and Madeleine‘s love of God. We
shared many quotes from the book about love and
marriage. One of the group members shared their favorite
quotation (not sure of the page), ―… the best thing my
husband and I ever did for our children is that we loved
each other‖. One of my favorite quotes is on page 103
and starts, ―But the wonderful thing, whether we are
together or apart, is to know that he is in the world, and
that we belong together. And what I must learn is to love
with all of me, giving all of me and yet remain whole in
myself.‖ Good advice, in my humble opinion.
Politics and philosophy is also mentioned frequently,
especially in the first half of the book. Religious issues
predominate in the second half of the book, specifically
L‘Engle‘s struggles with Christianity in dealing with
questions of faith during Hugh‘s suffering with cancer. On
page 94 L‘Engle begins a discussion of Rabbi Kushner‘s
book When Bad Things Happen to Good People. The
group discussed whether or not we agreed with Kushner‘s
belief that bad things (such as cancer) were a result of our
―abuse of free will‖ and if some prayers such as ―Please
God, don‘t let it be cancer‖ are appropriate or not. Later
L‘Engle also discusses prayer such as in the quote on
page 185 where she says that she doesn‘t understand
intercessory prayer but ―…that is all right. We don‘t have
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to understand that prayer is love, and love is never
wasted.‖ So we return back to the concept of love even
after the great love of her life has passed away.
The Rock Springs Group's discussion of Natalie Kusz'
Road Song was especially vigorous. There was a wide
range of responses to the Great Alaskan Journey, ranging
from condemning it as a form of child abuse (exposing the
kids to the wretched poverty and extreme climate), to
praising it as another chapter of that great American
tradition of the pioneer.
We also discussed L‘Engle‘s struggle with more
conservative Christian groups that sought to censor her
children‘s and young adult novels such as A Wrinkle in
Time. Her experiences with the censors, her feelings
about this and the group‘s feelings about censorship and
our own enjoyment of the book A Wrinkle in Time were all
discussed.
We couldn't help but dig deep into the psychology of the
parents--and came to understand how the mother was
shaped by her terror of mental illness and by her
permanent haunting of the dog attack; how the father was
in turn shaped by his fractured family. This led to some
thoughts on whether we truly have the choices, the free
will, that we think we have. We looked at the curious
relation of the family to the world at large: being branded
as outsiders on the one hand, while on the other hand
embracing and reveling in this role--how the family's
strength is, as she puts it, that of a fortress or an island--to
the point where the parents condone her fighting and even
train her for the role.
Elaine Jones Hayes
Road Song
The women of this group related to – and liked – Road
Song. Many said Natalie Kusz stories reminded them of
early Wyoming.
One participant found the parents
infuriating.
The group particularly enjoyed the nonblaming attitude of the author and her family. They did not
sing the victim‘s song for their misfortunes, even for the
mutilation of Natalie‘s face.
We noted the idyllic (some said "sugar-coated") nature of
the family epic--how Kusz had less objectivity and
perspective than other writers in the series
(understandable, considering her age).
We were of
course moved by her endurance and strength of character
in her own personal trial. An especially favorite chapter
was her depiction of the hospital environment--the
Children's Ward, the caregivers.
Samuel Western, 3-13-04
This book was well received. There was not a dissenting
voice in the room--the favorite book of this series among
the Jackson readers.
The group appreciated the
unflagging, unblinking honesty of the narrative, the lowkey approach to self-examination that Natalie Kusz seems
to take, and the sense of warmth and love she describes
within her family. Several people suggested that this is the
most sentimentally unsentimental story they'd ever read.
Several people specifically liked Kusz' quality of avoiding
trying to express others' feelings.
Some background information of especial interest:

An article by her in the July 1995 issue of
Harper's, "Inscribed Upon the Body: On Nose,
Chest and hair," about her father's life
I anticipated that some participants might quail at the
harsher aspects of the story--her injury, her adolescent
difficulties, the deaths of her mother and father. Similar
things oppress some readers whenever we encounter
them in other books. But not here.
Many in the Jackson group compared Road Song to Bronx
Primitive and found this book vastly more engaging,
sustaining, positive. I see both books as narratives of
successful survival, but the Jackson group felt this book
was much better written, although a first book from a
young writer, while Kate Simon was very experienced
when she wrote Bronx Primitive. We spent a little time
exploring that particular aspect--the age and experience of
the authors and their relative perspectives.

Her essay "Ring Leader," published in Best
American Essays 1997 (and other places), about
her adolescence

Not one, but two mostly laudatory reviews of the
book in the New York Times: "In a School of
Pain, learning About Joy" (11/9/90) and "Get Lost
Buddy, I've Done My Time," (11/16/90)

A Newsweek review ("Papa was a Rollin' Stone,"
1/7/91) which is especially interesting because it
articulates some of the negative outlooks of the
family and the book
Rick Kempa
The Dubois group, like the others I‘ve led on it, loved this
book to pieces. Natalie Kusz just couldn‘t do anything
wrong. We spent a lot of time telling personal stories.
Quite a number of people have romantic epics, such as
the author‘s family apparently undertook, somewhere in
their background, many of which led to hardships and
unforeseen adventures. (My family moved to Wyoming
from Cleveland this way — on a wacky whim about living
in the West — and although none of us got chewed up by
dogs, I could easily relate to this narrative.)
The major complaint: Road Song is out of print. This is the
only book that discussion participants wanted to give to
friends.
Peter Anderson
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Still, I try in these discussions to point out weaknesses in
the story — Kusz‘ occasional overblown descriptions, her
well-disguised selective memory, her moments of
awkwardness as a writer. I do this because I always strive
to serve as something of a counterweight to the
discussion. But discussion groups dismiss my complaints
with an impatient wave of the hand. They admire Kusz‘
stoicism, self-effacement, courage and sense of
responsibility. They‘re always startled to learn that this
book isn‘t widely sold (or even currently in print). One
person sent away to an out-of-print search company and
ordered several expensive hardback first editions, one of
them signed, to give to friends. Note to prospective
publishers: buy the rights to this book immediately.
spirit. All liked the book's voice and tone and felt they
could identify with Natalie. Insightful comments, good
company, and excellent refreshments provided by Suzi,
the Lyman Branch librarian. I'm going to enjoy traveling to
Bridger Valley twice a month.
Jon Billman (Lyman)
The group unanimously loved the book. Even when I tried
to play devil's advocate, they refused to consider my
suggestions that there were some inconsistencies in the
narration, that some of the things she DIDN'T tell us were
glaring omissions, and that sometimes her style was
forced. They didn't want to hear it!
Peter Anderson
We had a good discussion about the family dynamics, how
everyone became victims of Natalie Kusz's ordeal, and
how the parents were victims of their childhood family
problems. The group got into a pretty heated argument
about whether or not the parents were irresponsible and
selfish. We discussed the particularly American motif of
moving "West" and how that plays out in this 20th-21st
Century. Some suggested that Wyoming seems to be
filling that need for people like the Kusz's from California.
A terrific first meeting of a new book discussion group.
Only a couple of the attendees had ever participated in
any sort of discussion group before. Nevertheless, after
we broke the ice a little the conversation had good energy.
The memoir series provides great grist for talking about
selective memory and storytelling technique, and we got
into these larger subjects comfortably. Road Song was
much appreciated by this group, as it always seems to be.
An inspiring, remarkable tale, most readers agreed. I've
led discussions of this series in several places now, and
Road Song never fails to generate an overwhelmingly
positive response on most all levels (author, text,
narrative, etc.), which isn't true of other books in this
series. An American Childhood, for example, produces
unpredictable responses from different groups.
Someone suggested that there was an interesting
metaphor in how her body kept rejecting the grafts. He
read passages to illustrate and we delved into that for a
while. Most they wanted to take the book as it is "without
all that deep stuff" (and I quote).
Norleen Healy (Story group)
Peter Anderson
The discussion of Natalie Kusz‘s Road Song involved two
diametrically opposed points of view about the parents
and their decision to move to, then continue to live in,
Alaska. Those who deplored their continuing to live in
Alaska after Natalie‘s accident also thought the move itself
was irresponsible from the point of view of raising the
children. Those who were more understanding and
accepting of the move and its subsequent lifestyle offered
many cogent arguments in its defense. This led to a very
interesting and energetic discussion of the value systems
represented by the two points of view. Interestingly, our
decisions to live and work in eastern Wyoming versus
cities or their suburbs were offered as an example of
values similar to those of the Kusz‘s.
After supplying biographical information, I set out two polar
opinions of the book that previous discussions have
brought to the fore, that it is an account either
1. of a modern-day pioneering journey, in the grand
tradition of "American enterprising spirit" OR
2. of a dramatic instance of parental irresponsibility and
even child abuse, that the parents had no business
quitting their jobs and subjecting their children to the
hardships of the Alaskan wilderness.
Rick Kempa (Green River)
The effects on the family of Natalie‘s injury and pregnancy
were discussed, as well as the effect on her own selfesteem by being so obviously different from her peers.
The outsider status of the family as whole, as well as its
individual members, was also considered, as was the
personal histories of the mother and father. Naturally
each of these topics led back to the overriding theme of
the value system of the parents.
Great group--women who are more free at 1:00 p.m. than
in the evening. Spirited group. Is Wyoming the "Alaska of
the lower 48?" We discussed similarities and strength of
The reaction of the group members to each other was by
and large good-humored and accepting, and though the
differences in opinions were intractable, the participants
listened to one another and acknowledged their differing
We debated these two views at considerable length and
explored other obvious themes of the book: the
importance of family, courage in adversity. I was pleased
to come away from the discussion with a more
sympathetic and understanding view of Kusz than I had at
the outset.
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points of view. It was rewarding for me to be able to
facilitate this discussion.
made to that spirit and the pioneers and the people who
live in Wyoming today.
Bob Brown (Wheatland group)
One of the participants was a nurse and was pretty vocal
about what Natalie really had gone through and what real
courage she showed in the way she handled all of that. No
one questioned any of the behavior things that developed
with her or other family members. It was a lively
discussion -all the folks participated eagerly (as they
always do). I'll miss them.
Eleven members of the Lusk BDG met during the first
winter storm of the season, to discuss Road Song. It was
another lively and thoughtful discussion. When I asked
how many agreed with the parents‘ decision to take the
family to Alaska, and then to stay there, everyone very
emphatically expressed ―yes!‖ We spent time discussing
how the parents‘ values were influenced by their own
childhood experiences, and their own parents‘ values.
This segued into Natalie‘s growth and eventual
assumption of many of the values of her parents. One
participant was disappointed that Natalie had not told
more of the family‘s experiences during her recovery and
subsequent adolescent acting out, but this did not bother
most of the group. I pointed out that the memoir was
Natalie‘s, and thus her story was consistent with the
demands of the genre.
Norma Christensen
We started by considering the period the book covers. It
seems the Kutz family began the journey in l969 and the
story continues sporadically into the 1980‘s. We talked
about what kind of value systems are represented by the
parents move to Alaska. Both, we felt, were motivated by
their own background (Natalie mother‘s need to distance
herself from her own mother and her father‘s traumatic
youth in Poland and Russia which kept him always
dissatisfied with the people around him in California –
claiming they were ―false‖ and ―self important‖). There‘s
always the question of whether they were doing the best
for their children – leaving a somewhat secure life for the
big unknown they were facing in Alaska. Clearly Natalie,
at least, didn‘t regret the move, even considering what
happened to her. We saw her as defensive of her parents
and proud of their choices, some of which we
questioned. She acknowledges the hard things but
balances them with the sense of adventure they shared.
Of course we discussed the horror of the dog attack and
the subsequent consequences on each member of the
family, all of whom were scarred by the event. We talked
a lot about the family dynamics and wondered how the
Leslie, for example, might have viewed those years after
the dog attack. We talked about the sense of community
crisis can bring on, and how Kutz illustrates that people
can adapt to anything, even crisis.
The group was universally impressed with the parents‘
way of dealing with Natalie‘s pregnancy, but some were
troubled by the family‘s travels while they still lived in the
―hut.‖ There was a lot of sympathy for the mother‘s early
death, and many were upset that others in the family had
not shared more of the housekeeping chores. This
seemed particularly troubling given the rural Wyoming
backgrounds of several of the participants, and the
necessity in their families that everyone do some of the
work/chores.
This book was well liked, and generated a very good
group process. I hope that it can continue to be a part of
this series.
Bob Brown (Lusk group)
This group liked the book. Two of the members had spent
time themselves in Alaska during the ―boom‖ years in the
70‘s and early 80‘s when the pipeline was being built, so
related to much of what Kutz wrote. There was, as is
often the case with memoirs, some discussion of what is
obviously left out – for example, we were a bit taken
aback by her off-hand comment about she and her sister
spending a summer in Europe during their teen years
when it seemed as though the family always struggled so
financially. One person objected to how the author
―jumped around‖ especially objecting to her waiting until
almost the end to suddenly tell her father‘s story in Poland
and Russia as a child. We looked back at some of the
other books in this series in terms of the structure of a
memoir, which evolved into a discussion of the nature of
memory. Overall, the book engaged the readers in an
interesting broad discussion.
The Eppson Center group seemed most interested in
discussing the author's biography, a strong temptation
when reading and talking about memoir. I introduced
discussion of what would compel a person to write a
personal memoir... is it a desire for personal catharsis? to
embarrass others? or something more literary, such as a
desire to tell something of use for others? This thread of
discussion did not go far, so I plan to introduce it again at
our last meeting, for I believe it would be valuable for us to
move beyond our current level of speculation about other
people's choices and behavior. The group debated the
sanity of the parents' choice to move to Alaska and stay
there in light of their hardships, and compared that family
with their own pioneering backgrounds.
Julianne Couch
Norleen Healy, Clearmont
A dozen folks participated in the final discussion of Road
Song in this year's program. All were enthusiastic about
their praise for the book. Everyone present understood the
parents' reasons for going to Alaska - comparisons were
Tongue River Library, March 26, 2006
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This group really keeps me on my toes because several of
them are apt to come with research of their own on the
authors. This time one person had found a recent picture
of Natalie Kusz, something which I‘ve never been able to
do. She had an eye patch (in spite of the fact that she
was finally able to accommodate a glass eye), but
otherwise we were gratified to see that the reconstructive
surgery did finally take and she looked fine.
all of us), she seemed confident in her abilities and in her
family.
Everyone was eager to discuss the book, and many of the
same themes and issues emerged (noted in my report
from the Clearmont discussion). This group was
particularly intrigued with the parents‘ stories. We
discussed how their childhood and early adult experiences
might have motivated them to make that journey to Alaska
and then to live the way they did. We talked about the
―missing‖ pieces in the memoir in our discussion of the
impact on the other children from the dog attack on Natalie
and the subsequent consequences on her life. We noted
how different communities form in response to life
situations.
Betty Strong
The time frame of the late 60‘s influences our perception
of the motivation of the parents. Why would anyone
subject children to that environment unless absolutely
necessary? The group concluded it no different than any
other movement whether it be west or north.
Coming of Age in Mississippi
Since it had been two months since our last discussion, I
opened our discussion of Anne Moody‘s Coming of Age in
Mississippi with a very brief summary of the past sessions
and a reference to our series‘ theme. We followed that
update with each member sharing a description of ―where
we were‖ during the 60s era; some were living and
working in the Rocky Mountain area, some were children
in the South or youngsters recently moved from the South,
some were barely out of the baby carriage! (One of our
―regulars‖ who was not present for this discussion would
only know of these events through history lessons and
documentary films!)
Our recognition of our personal
histories and our various perceptions of the civil rights
movement contrasted with --or were confirmed by-Moody‘s story; these comparisons stimulated lively,
insightful exchanges.
While there was some disagreement on some aspects of
the way this family functioned, every one liked Natalie
Kusz‘s tone – her matter-of –factness and her refusal to
play the victim. They contrasted this with what they felt
was an angry coldness in Mary C. Blew‘s All But the
Waltz.
Since it was our last session, we generally review the six
books in the series…talked about similarities and
differences and what we‘ve come away with. They like the
series, felt the books were provocative and agreed that
most were ones they would never have read ―on their
own.‖ I think that‘s a good outcome.
Norleen Healy, Clearmont
Several readers noted that Moody‘s detailed descriptions
coincided with the memories and images from their travels
through the South during this era. Others noted that it was
one thing to ―know‖ of these events through the media or
through history books, but quite another to get ―inside‖ the
story through Moody‘s very personal narrative.
Four enthusiastic Upton readers discussed Road Song by
Natalie Kusz. All enjoyed the book and liked the positive
attitude displayed throughout. The author‘s style did not
ask for pity, but the reader is emotionally vested in the
book. The dog created a pivotal event for Kusz and her
family. It is interesting that the reader did not have much
sense of how it impacted the other family members since
Kusz did not purport to understand how the others felt.
That leaves the reader to speculate.
The group also contemplated how a culture of poverty
can affect perspectives, attitudes, behaviors, and dreams,
and noted that while race is a significant cultural factor, the
element of poverty weighs heavily as well. That
conversation
led
to
comments
regarding
the
commonalities of our childhood and teen-age experiences
with those of Moody. It was during this conversation that
several pointed out, despite considerable economic
differences, that we had much in common with Moody‘s
life, and that, in certain respects, she is an ―ordinary‖
person, as are we ―ordinary people.‖
The strength of the family is admirable. The mother‘s
problems with her mother and the embarrassments
growing up and the father‘s shattered family in Europe
create an atmosphere of family first always. Many families
talk the talk, but families are scarce that walk the walk like
these people did. It would be interesting to see how many
generations that tradition will influence.
We also explored why Moody was such a fighter, why she
was so different from others in her community, even those
in her own family. A variety of factors were mentioned as
we explored this question, including Moody‘s intelligence,
her birth order, her personality, the timely contributions of
moral or financial support from various teachers,
neighbors, friends or relatives, her challenges in those
folks that were obstacles or irritants-- (think ―oyster/pearl‖),
her severe poverty, her sense of fair play, her education,
and finally, Anne Moody‘s alternating hope and despair
regarding the success of the ―Movement‖.
In an article for the Oprah magazine entitled ―The Fat Lady
Sings‖ she justifies her size by saying that she learned
truth and substance are the key and she abided by that.
Road Song seems to exhibit that philosophy. With the
exception of some time growing up (childhood happens to
We also noted how the book‘s structure and style
appeared to reflect Moody‘s personal changes as she
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matured, and how her story‘s content reveals the
significant influences of her ―formal‖ education combined
with experiences both inside and outside her home
community. This group concluded that while the author
may have been an ―ordinary woman‖, she had
nevertheless responded in extraordinary ways to her
situation. Finally, group members spoke of both the strides
made in civil rights since the 60s, as well as current
problems and shortcomings. Despite our small numbers
for this session, the discussion was very lively, intriguing,
stimulating, and entertaining—what a great group!
Ebba Stedillie
We had transplanted southerners in our group. Their take
on the story added texture and understanding of Anne
Moody‘s rage. The group seemed to enjoy and relate to
the book, despite being from white Wyoming.
Samuel Western, Sheridan Library group, 12-10-03
Ebba Stedillie, 1-14-04
Here is the exact address for the link on the WCH
homepage to Anne Moody materials. (The one posted
didn't work.)
As it had been two months since our last discussion, I
began with a very brief overview of past sessions and a
reference to the series' theme. That was followed with
each member sharing their memories of the 60s era, a
kind of "where we were when..." kind of exchange. (Some
were living and working in the Rocky Mt region, some
were children in the South or youngsters who'd recently
moved from the South with their families, some were
barely out of the baby carriage!)
http://www.h-net.msu.edu/~women/threads/discmoody.html
Rick Kempa
We had a wonderful, spirited discussion. I opened with
comments on memoirs in general. I also provided
historical context for the book and defined terms (SNCC,
etc.). I read the Woolworth sit-in episode from Taylor
Branchi's first volume of the King biography to show the
event through a historical lens.
Our recognition of our personal histories and our various
perceptions of the civil rights movement contrasted with-or were confirmed by-- Moody's story; these comparisons
stimulated interesting reflections and a lively exchange!
Group members wanted to talk primarily about race and
their memories of that time or personal remembrances of
racisms. We spent a lot of time on violence within the
Negro community, on her mother (many identified with her
fear for Anne), on why she moved into the movement, and
why she ultimately left it. Several in the group talked of the
impact of violence and/or traumatic events in early
childhood and how these events prompt memory. We had
to scurry out just as the library closed! People are
fascinated that Moody is out of sight--they want to know-what's happened to her.
Several readers noted that Moody's detailed descriptions
coincided with the memories and images from their travels
through the South during this era. Others noted that it was
one thing to "know" of these events through the media or
through history books, but quite another to get "inside" the
story through such a powerful and personal narrative.
The group also contemplated how a culture of poverty can
affect perspectives, attitudes, behaviors and dreams, and
noted that while race IS a significant cultural factor, the
element of poverty weighs heavily as well.
That
conversation
led
to
comments
regarding
the
commonalities of our childhood and teen experiences with
Moody's. It was during this conversation that several
pointed out, despite the considerable economic
differences between our situations and hers, many in the
room had much in common with Moody's life...this led to
an observation that Moody is, in certain respects, an
"ordinary" person, as we are "ordinary" people.
Barbara Gose
The first meeting of the WCH Baggs discussion group in
early September went well. Nineteen people came out on
a Sunday afternoon to talk about Anne Moody's Coming of
Age in Mississippi. Our starting point, after the round of
introductions, was that, clearly, Anne did not fit the title of
the book series; hers was in no way an "ordinary" life. The
group discussed qualities that made Anne different from
others in her environment--her strength, courage,
intelligence, and so on. And we explored at length how
she was empowered--in part through her innate qualities,
in part through the fortunate series of mentors she had.
We discussed the terrifying environment in which she
made her stand, which made us better appreciate her
courage. I passed around the incredible picture of her at
the Woolworth's sit-in, which is contained in Taylor
Branch's Parting the Waters, and each person in the group
looked long and hard at it.
We also explored why Moody was such a fighter, why she
was so different from others in her community -- in short,
what factors contributed to the "extraordinary" and unique
person she is?
We examined a wide variety of
possibilities (her intelligence, her personality, birth order,
education, support from others, obstacles, etc.), finally
concluding that all factored in to her exceptional response
and actions. (Many expressed admiration for Moody!)
Finally, we spoke of the strides in civil rights as well as
current problems and shortcomings. Our numbers were
few, but -- as is typical of this group-- the conversation
was great!
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There was also a strand of conversation focusing on her
willingness to "hate" (which she expresses after the
Birmingham bombings). Some saw her as a stereotypical
black rabble-rouser. I was unprepared for the harshness of
a few of the comments in this vein. I even wondered if
future book series should start with another, less
potentially divisive book than this one.
information is scanty. Moody apparently hasn't granted
interviews for years; her name and perspective are notably
absent in historical programs such as "Will the Circle Be
Unbroken?" which has five episodes on the Jackson,
Mississippi, Civil Rights Movement (a radio production of
the
Southern
Regional
Conference
<http://207.69.203.100/home.htm>). This led us to
speculate about the life forces that would cause a person
first to publish and then become silent.
Finally, we spent a little time discussing the relevance of
the book--something we could learn from and grow from,
and not just treat as "history." The group remarked its
relevance in regards to the current spate of race-related
hate crimes, but resisted tying the book to Matthew
Shepard--too close to home.
Deb Koelling
We had an inspiring, wide-ranging discussion of Ann
Moody's book. We talked about it as historical text, a "front
line" account from the civil rights battlefront. We marveled
about our own ignorance or lack of awareness about what
went on. We explored the question of how Moody gained
the strength of character she needed: the old
nature/nurture question. We looked at her mentor
relationships with other women when she was young. We
brought the discussion home, with many anecdotes about
how our own perceptions of race were shaped. An hour
and a half into it, some of us were still talking about
contemporary race relations as future prospects.
I summarized the host of wild rumors afloat about what
Moody is doing now (as reported in the discussion list at
http://www.h-net.msu.edu/~women/threads/discmoody.html). They were fascinated by Moody's
subsequent disappearance from the "public eye."
Rick Kempa
The group brought up such things as the role of religion in
Ann Moody's life, what qualities she had that helped her
rise above her impoverished childhood, the degree to
which she "created" a persona for herself, her relationship
to her family, her role as an activist in the Civil Rights
Movement. They were intensely interested in what
happened to Moody after she wrote the book.
Rick Kempa
Most thought the book provided excellent insight into an
era of the nation's history that largely escaped Wyoming.
A couple of folks thought the author was ego-centric, but
most were amazed with her ability to withstand those
experiences. The discussion centered mostly on racism
and how it has affected the American psyche. Most in the
group have had no experience with the American South.
Many shared their limited experiences having to do with
inter-racial settings. Despite this lack of direct experience,
there was consensus that America's past has been highly
influenced by racial issues, and this was acknowledged to
have taken place in Lander which is in close proximity to
the Wind River Reservation.
We also had a good discussion on how biography,
autobiography and memoir are similar and different, how
they place different sorts of limitations on writers' and
readers' knowledge of their subjects. We discussed
different autobiographies we had read and why people
were or were not drawn to read autobiography.
Marcia Hensley
The overwhelming emotions evinced during the discussion
were shock and guilt. Several women identified
themselves as Moody's contemporaries, yet they said their
lives were so completely different that they had to keep
checking their dates in disbelief. The Civil Rights
Movement and racism were distant from their actual lives.
They almost couldn't believe what they were doing in their
relatively innocently and carefree lives during the times
that Moody was living the events she relates in her
memoir.
There were few comparison made with other books in the
series. The group was surprised that author A. Moody has
written very little else. She refers to herself as more of a
civil rights activist than a writer. As facilitator, I felt well
qualified in leading this discussion having myself been
involved in a summer voting registration campaign in
southern Virginia in 1966. I was also able to share some
resources from that era, including a pictures of Ms. Moody
participating in the famous Woolworth sit in that she
describes in her book.
Our discussion topics covered issues of family, education,
civil rights (especially The Movement), race relations,
poverty, religious faith, unemployment, and male/female
relations. We explored the book's themes of realization of
self and sanity/madness. We touched upon theory of
women's autobiography, but only to the extent of
beginning a working definition (shape and theme).
Warren Murphy
What was most interesting about this discussion was the
way it tended to slip past the history of the Civil Rights
Movement, which has not been characteristic of the other
discussions of this book to which I've been party.
Participants seemed eager to talk about Anne Moody as
an individual rather than as a representative of a time,
The group had great curiosity about Anne Moody's current
life--it was the first thing they brought up. Unfortunately,
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place and social effort. I found that refreshing. I pushed
that aspect of he memoir by asking a lot of questions
about Moody herself, how she comes across as person
and storyteller.
Rick Kempa (Green River)
This was our second meeting in the Memoirs series, so we
had some general starting point for our discussion. The
group was particularly interested in discussing the voice
differences between Moody and Dillard. A couple of
people developed such a dislike for Moody that it was hard
to move them away from that to consider her story. Others
appreciated her bluntness and her impatience with all
forms of bigotry and prejudice. The emergence of sense of
self identity is a theme which carries across well in all the
books in this series and is particularly interesting in this
one because of the cultural constructs which so many of
us can remember -- the Woolworth sit-in, the Birmingham
bombing, etc. A point someone brought out which elicited
great discussion was to question the things Moody chose
to leave out of her story. Of course we talked at length
about what it is that empowers someone with the kind of
background she details to move so beyond the norms of
her community. One person suggested that she was
motivated most of her life by anger (and the group added
fear), a powerful and demanding force which might
account for her burnout.
We talked a lot about burning out. Each person had their
own view of what it must be like to be at the center of that
much energy and then to sort of implode. Additional
fruitful topics: the evolutionary unfolding of consciousness;
the myth or reality of social progress; personal resilience;
comparisons between do-ers and dreamers.
Peter Anderson
The Pinedale group actually spent more time than the
other groups, I think, talking about the history of the Civil
Rights Movement. Everyone, it seemed, had a personal
recollection or two about the era. This could be because a
greater percentage of the Pinedale participants are the
right age for such memories than in my other groups. A
couple of the participants seemed to hint at old, embedded
racist attitudes, or if not attitudes, at least stereotypes,
which was fascinating to watch, because other members
of the group picked up on them and attacked. It didn‘t turn
into an uncomfortable situation, just a lesson in the way a
culture grates against itself (and why these discussions
can be so useful and important).
Everyone in the group had a memory of the time and
events Moody recounts to share and/or an experience of
their own that they were reminded of reading the book. By
the end of the discussion, it seemed that Moody's
detractors had warmed to her a bit.
This book is the only true memoir in the series, and it
allows me a chance to discuss the difference between
memoirs which talk about a person‘s individual trajectory
and autobiographies which relate the unfolding of great
events from a personal point of view. Of course, it is also a
psychological study (whether Moody likes that or not) and
thus offers a level of complexity not found in all memoirs.
The Pinedale group seemed to enjoy getting into that
distinction.
It was a good discussion. For once I'm doing a series that
I've done elsewhere in the past. I can build on past preps
and have some idea of what the response might be,
though that's never a certainty!
Norleen Healy (Story)
Peter Anderson
We discussed Anne Moody, the author, and her reputation
as a recluse and why this may fit the narrator of COMING
OF AGE IN MISSISSIPPI. We compared/contrasted the
language of the autobiography to the other books we've
read in the series so far and found it to be vital, immediate,
and real. Moody puts the Woolworth's incident into real
terms, a gripping,horrifying account of "the price you pay
daily for being black."
People were extremely moved by the book--the account of
Ann's struggles to find meaning and make a difference in
the Civil Rights movement. Points that stood out from the
discussion: "I had no idea that this was going on. . .even
though I lived through the era and considered myself to be
knowledgeable." "Why didn't Ann DO anything with her
college degree. She earned it, then didn't use it." "What
she experienced was ULTIMATELY UNKNOWABLE to
any of us--the feeling of WHAT IT WAS LIKE, being
stalked, hounded, threatened, unable to breathe in that
terror-filled atmosphere." "Each of our experiences and
lives is ultimately unknowable. We are each alone with
whatever it is we have to "deal with." (I thought this was an
especially insightful, transcendent point.)
Jon Billman (Lyman group)
We met at the Eppson Center for a discussion of Coming
of Age in Mississippi, on this day [9-11-01] of another kind
of national horror. Part of me expected a phone call from
the project director suggesting we postpone discussion in
light of the terrorists attacks that took place this morning.
But I was very glad the call didn't come. It turned out to be
a great day for a discussion of the humanities. The
juxtaposition of today's tragedy and Ann Moody's terrified
childhood and young womanhood made conversation
interesting. We covered the usual: our prejudices and how
we'd overcome them; and whether the prejudices were
against a particular group or a result of fear of our
Discussion finished after an hour and a half or so, with a
series of honest comments and admissions about our
"race consciousness" and "racial stereotyping." In short,
the book touched home more than any other, perhaps, in
the series.
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community being destroyed by any outside force.
Naturally, it was impossible to discuss these issues
without examining how the United States might be an
object of prejudice or hate by outside nations or
organizations, and to what degree we were responsible for
the situations others blame on us. We looked at Ann
Moody's militant behavior, which those in the group
supported as being useful and good, and examined where
militancy ends and terrorism begins, and who defines
those terms. We examined whether violent action is the
point at which militancy goes too far. This is a somewhat
rambling description of the discussion, but the discussion
itself was somewhat rambling. It is very difficult to think in
a linear manner in a day filled with such chaos. But I
believe this book discussion gave some of us a way to
understand the unthinkable events of our present day.
experiences of growing up in the de facto segregation of
the high plains, and their unknowing ignorance of the
black experience in America. This included their general
astonishment of the events in the Deep South during the
years covered in the book. While the degree of racism
and its various forms and violence shocked and distressed
them, they were equally upset by the abject poverty of
Anne‘s family, and the lifestyle these forces engendered.
Participants
consistently
referred
their
personal
experiences to Anne‘s descriptions of her ―coming of age.‖
All seemed to really like Anne, and to have a profound
respect for her courage in its several forms.
I had brought the cover of the Nov. 5, 2001 New Yorker,
showing a frightened ―Arab‖ (Sikh) N.Y. cab driver,
bearded and with a turban, cab covered with American
flags and a ―God Bless America‖ decal, and passed it
around, then asked for reactions to it. This led to more
controversy, which I had hoped for, as it opened the last
part of the discussion to the forms of American racism
inherent in our current war. The group seems to have
matured enough so that some of the most extreme
comments were met with bemusement and rolled eyes by
others, and acceptance without intimidation of the differing
points of view.
Julianne Couch
This was the first meeting this year of the Wheatland
group, and 10 participants were present to discuss Anne
Moody‘s memoir. After a brief background on WCH and
the purpose of the BDGs, the discussion took off. I asked
first for general reactions to the book, then for any specific
passages that struck them in some way. I almost didn‘t
have to do anything else, as the participants immediately
began discussing Anne‘s terrible experiences as an
African-American growing up in the deep South, her
incredible fortitude and determination as she formed her
sense of self and obtained her education, and her
subsequent experiences as she participated in the SNCC
activities in Mississippi.
Bob A. Brown
Seventeen Ten Sleep folks jumped right into the Coming
of Age in Mississippi discussion!!!!! Surprisingly, some
didn't like the book, but I think this was mostly revulsion
over the way black people were (are) treated. Some
members have lived in other parts of the U.S. where there
have been black folks and understood all the book had to
say. Others, I think, were still skeptical that man's
inhumanity to man can be so blatant. In any event, all had
great admiration for Moody, her trials and tribulations,
courage, fortitude, etc. I cited an instance in Worland
some years ago where an educated Mexican had some of
the same frustrations with the Mexicans here because of
their unwillingness to try to move ahead. He finally left the
area in frustration. But the discussion was animated, lively,
and everyone participated. They did, of course, make
comparisons with Annie Dillard's growing up years and
Anne Moody's.
At different times I interjected some history of the larger
civil rights movement, Brown v. Board of Education (1954)
and the subsequent actions (or lack thereof) of
Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson. I also added brief
comments on the genres of memoir and autobiography.
The group spent time with these issues, but primarily
talked about what Anne wrote of her own experiences. Of
course, all were curious about what has happened to her
since 1965, when she left Cornell, but several commented
that her ―disappearance‖ seems consistent with her
frequently described desire not to have others see her
feelings. Near the end of the meeting we briefly talked
about the appearance of racist actions and comments
since September 11th.
Norma Christensen
This was a wonderful discussion. I hope the next five will
carry on this energy.
The Upton group could hardly wait to talk about Anne
Moody's memoir. The energy was so high that I needed to
ask for just one person at a time to speak, as there quickly
developed several simultaneous conversations. It occurs
to me now, but didn't at the time, to have them divide into
small groups to discuss aspects the book, then come back
together to share their thoughts with the larger group. All
were amazed at how much Anne had accomplished, and
time was spent reviewing her early years of extreme
poverty, her jobs, and her several mentors. There was
also discussion about how remarkable it seemed that she
had been able to escape this background, as none of her
siblings seemed able to, and her parental models were
Bob Brown
The Lusk BDG had nineteen people show up for the
discussion of Anne Moody‘s Coming of Age in Mississippi.
Without exception (!) everyone eagerly began talking
about how much they liked the book, many saying it was
their favorite, not only of this series to date, but also of the
other series in which they had participated. Most of the
first hour was spent with participants sharing personal
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poor. Her physical courage in living and working with the
knowledge that she was on a "kill" list was also
considered. The group began a wide-ranging discussion of
racism, the Civil Rights Movement and its demise,
personal experiences of dealing with race relations, and
family and peer attitudes regarding minorities. They then
began to discuss the even more universal issues of
scapegoating and hatred and violence. This led to
thoughtful comments about why the United States is so
widely disliked and despised: our arrogance and our
historical and current efforts to force other countries to
abandon their cultures and political histories, using our
military and economic superiority. In contrast, one member
stated that we can only try to give countries their freedom,
but can't force them to accept it if they don't want it (!). As
usual, there was disappointment that Anne's life since the
end of her memoir is so hidden from the public. As this
was the first meeting of the year for the Upton group, I
gave WCH mission and funding and program information
at the beginning. At the end of this very interesting
discussion I gave some background information about the
next book in the series. --Bob Brown
The Cheyenne discussion started informally even before
everyone had arrived with several of the ten attendees
talking amongst themselves about where they were during
the early 60s. Most group members had only vague
memories of the events (such as the March on
Washington or the Birmingham church bombing) depicted
in Moody's memoir. Only one group member was in the
south and she was teaching school in Virginia (which was
a segregated state but not exactly the deep south).
We started off the discussion of Moody's Coming of Age in
Mississippi with a little background (and I do mean little)
on where Moody is now. It's kind of a mystery, which the
group found disappointing. I also showed them a photo of
the Woolworth sit-in and read them an alternate version of
events found in Taylor Brand's Parting the Waters. Then I
asked them where they were in the '60's. I was especially
interested to know, as I wasn't even born until '67. The
group of five older ladies had great stories to tell especially those who lived in Missouri and Florida at the
time. One lady who grew up in South Dakota pointed out
that we northerners are not immune to our own form of
prejudice and segregation. She grew up with lots of friends
from the reservation - and life often isn't so great for them,
either.
Everyone found the book to be interesting although a
couple of members seemed to find some of the events
related too graphic and disturbing to bear. We spoke for
quite awhile about the amazing strength and resilience
Moody must have had to rise up from abject poverty to get
a college education, become a leader of the civil rights
movement, and write a best selling autobiography. We
mused awhile on why she became active in the movement
when other members of her family refused. We also
worked out some difficulties with the book such as the
frequent use of acronyms, everyone knew what KKK and
NAACP was but I helped them out with SNCC, CORE,
COFO and BTU. One woman confused the Dr. King that
Moody mentions so frequently in the book (a white
minister from Jackson) with Martin Luther King Jr., so we
straightened that out also. Before the end of the session
we fell back again into discussing our own experiences
with racism, segregation, and the civil rights movement.
Then everyone wanted to know about what happened to
Moody after the end of the book. I shared what very little
I'd been able to find about subsequent published works
and her life experiences. I passed around the famous
picture of Anne Moody and other Tougaloo students being
abused by white high school students during the
Woolworth's lunch counter sit-in. I also put a chronology of
events up on the board (especially the events in 1963) to
show how quickly major events in the battle for civil rights
were happening in that time period to help explain Anne
Moody's roller coaster of emotions in the last third of the
book.
We then moved on to a discussion of how things have
changed for blacks since the Civil Rights Movement and
concluded that they really haven't changed much, and we
can see why Moody burnt out on making changes. We
thought that poverty and lack of education, as well as
speech patterns (Mama them, for example) are the
biggest reasons there is still segregation in the South.
Most enjoyed this book because of its content, but none
thought Moody was a great writer - not surprising, since
she didn't even consider herself a writer but an activist.
Some of us found this book refreshing for its
straightforward, stark honesty and lack of self-indulgent,
self-serving attitude sometimes seen in more literary
works.
One woman related her experience as a high school
employee in Cheyenne in the 1950s at a downtown lunch
counter where the owner of the store would not serve
blacks (not even black servicemen in uniform) and the
embarrassment she and other employees felt having to
enforce this restriction. While discussing the harsh
treatment of protestors by the police, another woman
shared her experience of terror as a Vietnam War
protestor having to run from vicious police dogs.
--Elaine Hayes
Finally, we discussed family, and how it often holds back
the one member who seeks to break away and carve out a
new life. We also discussed the relationship between
mother and daughter and the lack of support Moody
received from her family. It was our smallest group to date,
but we were really productive!
The Jackson discussion was lively throughout, and lasted
two hours. Several participants recalled their own
participation in the civil rights movement, mostly in the
north. Two participants recalled growing up in Alabama
and Arkansas, and how little impact the movement had on
their lives or understanding at that time. We devoted most
of the discussion to the various aspects of race relations
and racism in the United States, starting with a general
discussion of slavery. We addressed such humanities
--Kathy Bjornestad
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concerns as the need to see others as "less than" rather
than "equal to" in order to justify slavery or any kind of
abuse.
significant points in her life from her early childhood
through the "movement" that motivated her and then
finally wore her down. We talked about why and how she
was different from the others in her family and community
and what motivated them to respond as they did. We
talked about racial issues that still exist - certainly
concerning Native Americans in this part of the state whether conscious or unconscious.
We addressed the psychological aspects of that system,
including the essential fear basis that drives it. People
remarked on Mrs. Burke's "craziness" about race, and that
led to discussion of sexual fears and assumption, and a
more general discussion of what areas of human behavior
are justified and what condemned in different cultures.
--Norleen Healy
There was general agreement that economics played a
large role, and participants were interested to learn that
Anne Moody eventually became a poverty counselor in
New York City. We also addressed the question of the
relation
between
environment/socialization
and
nature/genetics, in discussing how it was that Anne
became so involved in addressing civil wrongs, while other
Negroes did not. That perennial question - how do we
become who we are - led to further consideration of the
philosophical and spiritual question of how we construe
who we are, that is, what myths or explanatory principles
make sense of our experiences for us. We tussled with the
relationship between family myths/influences, societal
myths/influences and personal meaning making schemes.
Tongue River: In our discussion of the book, the first
question everyone asks is "What happened to Ann Moody
after the events she narrates?" Of course no one seems to
have a clear idea here. I told them what little I was able to
uncover - that she is intensely personal, never has given
interviews, has published little since Coming of Age, and
has not been actively or publicly involved in Civil Rights
issues since she "dropped out" in 1964. This moved the
discussion to what we see about her at the end of the
book. We agreed that she was physically, emotionally,
even intellectually broken down. Then we talked a lot
about the progress throughout her young life to this state. I
asked the group to go back to her childhood and consider
where turning points occurred and what happens to her
consciousness at these points. It's intriguing to ask why,
considering her environment, she emerges with so much
courage and commitment when she had almost no
support from either the Black or the White community.
After much discussion on this point, we agreed that she
was motivated primarily by anger and fear. Those qualities
combined with her independence and intelligence kept her
going, but the anger and fear also caused her personal
demise. We had an interesting discussion about her voice.
Most in the group said they admired her, but couldn't really
warm up to her. She has too much of an "attitude,
someone said. I asked them to consider why she is telling
this story; there are lots of ways interpret her reasons.
We discussed the book as a coming-of-age story, as all
the books in this series are. Participants observed an
interesting feature of Moody's character: she comes of
age, in the sense of becoming aware of, and challenging,
the patterns of her culture and society, and becomes a
rebel or revolutionary, and, at the same time, hers is a less
examined life that those of the other authors we have read
so far, in the traditional sense of an examined life. While
Moody is aware of her thoughts and feeling as
spontaneous, direct responses to events, she does not
seem to generalize beyond the moment. In political and
social terms, she does, while at the same time her feelings
and emotions seem directly connected to the moment,
rather than to a larger understanding of herself.
Our discussion of the book was lively and provocative. We
segued into our own experiences and perceptions of the
period Moody covers in the book. There is a wide age
discrepancy in the group so some remember vividly many
of the events and other just know of them culturally. Many
of us shared personal stories of our first understanding of
racism and how our attitudes have been formed by our
own environments. We talked about the controversy
coming out of the recent hurricanes concerning race and
social status. Whenever the issue of prejudice comes up
in this area, people obviously relate it to the Native
American issues. I had to point out how, while we often
get so indignant about racism directed toward Blacks, we
don't always recognize prejudices toward Native
Americans as being racist.
We also commented on the qualities of bravery and
cowardice, and many participants shared their own
moments of fear and retreat, and their admiration for Anne
in this regard. We commented briefly on our
understanding of present racial relations. One participant
commented on the power of language to include or
exclude, and ways that language and dialect create
culture and mark those who are in and out.
--Stephen Lottridge
Clearmont: I had planned to do some general introduction
on the genre and then find out how the group connected to
the period Moody covers in the book - where they were,
how aware they were of the extreme racial tension at the
time, what personal memories did the book evoke, and so
on. This didn't take long and didn't generate the kind of
discussion I had hoped for.
--Norleen Healy
The Saratoga book discussion group met on August 12,
2009 at 2 P.M. at the Saratoga Public Library to discuss
the third book in the series, Coming of Age In Mississippi
However, in our discussion of the book, more personal
memories and associations emerged. We talked about
Moody's emerging consciousness, thinking about
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by Anne Moody. There were 10 in attendance for this
book discussion.
events, both frightening and hopeful. This led to a broader
discussion of the importance of the news media in shaping
our opinions, and then on to the way we deal personally,
individually with information that makes us uncomfortable
or does not conform to our previously held opinions. One
member spoke of the importance of education, and
specifically the development of critical thinking, to an
overcoming of prejudice. That led to an even broader
discussion of how human beings, and human cultures,
deals with fear and discomfort. Do we become more
embedded in our positions and see those who disagree
with us as enemies, or do we challenge ourselves and
seek ways to understand and find common ground with
the "other." One participant said that she had realized,
during her reading of this book, that the violence practiced
against blacks in this period was, in fact, terrorism.
―Compelling‖ was the word used widely throughout the
group to describe the overall reaction to this memoir. The
group was ―riveted‖ by all the author endured and
expressed admiration for the author in her ability to
continually ―pick herself up‖ and make it through all of the
things that she experienced. Many of the attendees
recollected on their childhood growing up in the 1960‘s .
One attendee recalled being in Washington D.C. and
hearing the story when Eartha Kitt was refused service at
a restaurant. The presence of racism in present day was
also widely discussed.
Some of the topics and major themes in the book that
were discussed included racial distinctions, the
destructiveness of discrimination and the author‘s survival
and personal growth throughout her childhood. The group
explored in depth the question of how people, in
circumstances such as the author‘s, are able to pull
strength together and have the perseverance to continue
to fight and become one‘s own person, even when others
are trying to hold them back, such as Toosweet, the
author‘s mother. The group also discussed the supporting
influences in the author‘s life, such as her teachers that
helped provide some of that support.
We also discussed the main character herself, and tried to
identify the qualities that set her apart and led to her
activism, when so many of her compatriots did not
become activists. People spoke of her intelligence and
her native talents in general as distinguishing her from her
peers. We also spoke of the range of possible family
constellations that can support a young person's
development, a solid nuclear family being only one of
them. Many people noted her competitiveness, her
curiosity and her persistent anger at her mother's refusal
to answer her questions as driving forces in her activities
and her eventual engagement with the civil rights
movement.
Other topics discussed included the author‘s reference to
food(a constant reminder of the level of poverty she grew
up in), the author‘s clear memory of every job she had,
how much she was paid, and how much she had in
savings at any given time, and the reference to clothing as
an important part of her rites of passage into maturity.
Most of the group found it interesting that Adline, the
author‘s sister, put so much emphasis and importance on
giving Anne a fancy green dress instead of attending her
sister‘s graduation as she had promised.
People identified the variations within the black and white
communities and spoke of the necessity to avoid making
easy generalizations when speaking of groups or
communities. We discussed again the question of how it
is than enmity arises between categories of people,
whether of race, gender or any other significant
difference. While enmity and violence may seem inherent
in human beings, they are based on fear and we may, in
fact, have a choice of what we do with our fear in any
given circumstance. We referred to the adage, "Fear is a
good servant but a bad master," with the implication that it
can alert us without driving our behavior. This topic
returned us to the idea that critical thinking - formerly, at
least, one of the main goals of education, especially higher
education - can lead to a much greater sense of choice in
our actions, rather than automatic reaction.
A brief overview of the acronyms used to reference
organizations throughout the book and the history of each
organization were discussed as well.
The next book discussion will take place on August 26 at 2
P.M. and the group will be discussing the fourth and last
book in this series, All But The Waltz by Mary Clearman
Blew.
Stephanie Jeffers
We spent a little time comparing and contrasting the three
books we have read so far: Bronx Primitive, An American
Childhood and Coming of Age in Mississippi, noting the
role of dissatisfaction and anger as a propellant for each of
the girls, as well as their skills as observers and their
rebellious energy. As a note of particular poignance, we
held this discussion on the one month anniversary of Anne
Moody's death in Mississippi, to which she had recently
returned after long absence. One of the participants
passed around a copy of her obituary from the New York
Times.
Nineteen participants gathered for this, our third, meeting
in the series Ordinary Lives: Memoirs of American
Women.
Our discussion focused for the most part on the history of
racial relations in the United States. One of the
participants had been teaching at the University of
Mississippi at the time of these events, and spoke of the
radical difference between the perspectives of white and
black community members. For the most part, whites
were barely aware of the incidents, since they were
covered only minimally in the local white press, and they
attributed them entirely to the work of outside agitators,
while the black community saw them as momentous
Stephen Lottridge
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House of Houses
Could it be that we lack that much understanding of
cultures other than our own? While other books in the
series included "non-mainline" culture and ethnic groups
("Bronx Primitive" and "Coming of Age in Mississippi") they
weren't as negatively received (although "Coming of age"
did receive a lot of criticism as well...perhaps not as much,
it was the first book in our series). Is it time, or has it been
done previously, to develop a series regarding specific
cultures that reside within our country? I can't quote the
statistics about when the "whites" are supposed to lose
the majority, but given that...perhaps through WCH we
could begin to address the need for understanding each
other more? Certainly through literature would be a great
way to start.
This week our discussion was based on Pat Mora HOUSE
OF HOUSES, and like so many previous groups,
participants really hated the book or found it okay and a
good example of a totally different culture and lifestyle.
There was a small turnout too, either because the book
was not liked or because of the two week intervals. But at
the end of the extended discussion I recapped the themes
they talked about: family generations, Mexican culture,
memory mixed with daily routine, the house-garden
relationships and themes, women's roles, language as a
barrier, religion in the home, prejudice historically and
current, and Mora's efforts as a writer to teach her own
people the traditional history. Creatively her book was
probably better organized than Dillard's. Even with all this
opportunity for ideas, the Wright participants are ready for
the next read about Montana ranching.
I thought the substitution was great!
Sarah Lee
-Patty
I just wanted to chime in here quickly to add some
comments about HoH. I discussed this with a group in
Douglas last Thursday and I'm still mulling it.
A question about Mora's memoir--possibly no one will
have a response since only two or three groups read it this
year, but, if you have any experience with it, we'd
appreciate your comments.
Like Sarah, I simply "could not finish" this book. (When
summer comes, I am determined to get through it,
though.) Unlike Sarah, I think my reasons were actually
related to the text. I think that, however good the content
of the book, there were just too many layers of
experimentation going on with it. To wit:--the Day of the
Dead motif (easily lost if you're not wide awake in the first
couple of pages--not to mention knowledge of the culture)-by extension, "dead characters" who gently move back
and forth between their existences--the dichos as key to
the storyline, but frequently downplayed or lost amongst
the day-to-day conversation--lack of consistent translation
(sometimes you can get it in context; sometimes not)
House of Houses by Pat Mora replaced Road Song in a
few of the "Ordinary Lives" programs this year because
the latter went out of print before we could order enough
copies for all the groups who requested the series.
Norleen Healy reported in her final evaluation for the
series in Newcastle that they found Mora's book the least
successful in the series. Although Norleen liked the book a
lot, many of the readers in Newcastle struggled with it and
did not complete it. She guesses that she might have
helped the readers by "setting up" the book more fully, but
still questions whether the book is too inaccessible for this
reading context.
--too much need for glossing (a genealogy AND photos at
the front, along with a glossary in the back suggests that
this text is inaccessible to many but the most studied
reader--shades of Eliot's "Wasteland"?)
If anyone else on the discussion list has worked with
House of Houses, we'd be interested to know your
reaction to the book and your experiences with it as part of
the memoir series.
--one final motif: the chapters as months (almost
completely lost)
Thanks.
Judy
Now, given all that going on, I found it incredibly hard NOT
to be completely conscious of the writer's craft--and almost
totally disinterested in the content. Many in my group
seconded some of these comments. But most really
WANTED to like the book and WANTED it to give them a
clear sense of life within a family in this culture. I just think
it could have been much more accessible.
I was dismayed at the group's [Newcastle‘s] intense
dislike of the book, as I loved it! Coincidentally, it was the
only book I did not finish in the two series I have
participated in (and a very difficult pregnancy fell in the
middle of the previous series). I have my own theories
about why it took me so much longer to read (personal
commitments, wanting to try to translate all the phrases,
concentrating on the characters...which came much easier
when I remembered the family tree in the front of the book,
etc.)...but I found it very distressing that so many people
gave up on it. It seemed so appropriate for a memoir of a
Latino family. It was beautifully done in terms of content
and setting and the Latin culture.
By the way, as an alternate for this series, I'd recommend
Terry Tempest Williams' "Refuge", which is currently in
one of the other series. It succeeds in many of the
attempts that HoH misses on.
Bob Mittan
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I have to say I did not have trouble reading House of
Houses. I read it and most of Pat Mora's other books in a
couple days. I found a number of half-baked
commentaries about her on the Internet, and one good
(albeit short) interview. Secondary materials, critical works
specifically, are hard to excavate without a decent
university library at hand, but I didn't find it difficult to come
up with ample material to construct a good discussion
plan.
How do you think Pat Mora is using food to create an
atmosphere which "conjures" her family history? What
does food mean within her memory and within her culture,
at least as it is illuminated in this narrative?
What role(s) does food play in your own memories? Are
there certain foods, their scents and textures, which you
associate with people and circumstances in your own life?
How would you describe your family‘s history to someone
else using food as a focal point?
A woman who lives in the valley summers is an English
Professor at the University of Virginia, and she teaches
Pat Mora in Women's Studies courses there, although
focusing more on her poetry. We had a couple of good
discussions about Mora.
2) Houses and gardens: In addition to food, these are the
central metaphors of Mora‘s narrative. It‘s obvious that a
house — in the memoir an imaginary house somewhere
between El Paso and Santa Fe — signifies many things,
perhaps most prominently the structure of memory and the
re-creation of identity. What other things might houses
represent to Pat Mora in her story of her family? For you,
what do houses seem to represent? Is there one actual
house in particular which stands out in your memory as
symbolic of your personal history, and the history of your
family? Is there a house in your imagination which fills that
role?
Most of the twenty participants in my Pinedale discussion
group, the only place I did the book this year, apparently
finished the book. In part, this may have been due to the
fact that it was the first book we read this fall, and folks
tend to work harder on the first one. Only one person said
outright that they didn't get through it, although many of us
admitted that it seemed to drag along forever in the final
third.I advised the group in advance (through the group
administrator) to tackle the book early and stick with it. A
little warning goes a long way. If people are told something
is difficult up front, they tend to take delight in conquering
it; they discover it wasn't so hard after all.
Gardens, on the other hand, seem to signify the labyrinths
of psychology. Mora notes at one point, "If you want to be
happy for a day, roast a pig. If you want to be happy for a
year, get married. If you want to be happy for a lifetime,
plant a garden." What is it about gardens which might
suggest that she‘s right? Do you think she‘s referring to
the way we perceive the experience of being in a garden,
or the act of gardening itself?
I made up a small set of focal points for my discussion,
and although we didn't stick precisely to these questions,
we circled around them off and on in our talk. Those
questions follow. This season, I didn't generally hand out
discussion questions in advance of the discussions, as I
have in the past, because doing so seems to make them
too much into assignments --people focus objectively on
the questions and lose their subjective, reader-response
approaches to the books. I much prefer the latter. I use the
questions principally for my own reference during the
discussions. You'll notice also that I tend to ask for
subjective, personal insights in each instance, veering
away critique of the book. This was the flywheel of my
strategy for the three autobiography series I did this year. I
wanted participants to tell their own stories as we went
along against the multi-layered templates of the books we
were reading.
3) The women in the family mostly fill traditional roles as
mothers and housewives, their long days filled with
cooking and cleaning. Does it seem to you that Pat Mora
sees theirs as a limited world?
4) There‘s a lot of Spanish in this English narrative, much
of it untranslated by context. Some readers find this
annoying; they skim the Spanish and wonder what they‘re
missing. If you don‘t speak Spanish, how did it strike you?
Why do you think Pat Mora included so much of it in her
story, assuming that she knew most of her readers would
be English-speaking?
Are there some things which can only be related in their
original language, as Mora offers at the conclusion of the
narrative? Are there statements or ideas from your own
history that could not be communicated to other people
save by reproducing the actual words which were
exchanged (and thus couldn‘t be translated into other
languages)?
Yes, I think House of Houses is a good complement to the
other books. Yes, it is the hardest to read, in terms of
duration and prose pace (but not, it's important to note, in
terms of textual impact -- my Pinedale group, for instance,
struggled more with Mary Clearman Blew than Pat Mora,
finding All But the Waltz desolate, meandering and
miserable).
5) What does this memoir tell us about saving languages
and traditions? Specifically, what traditions do you think
Pat Mora is looking to highlight? What traditions would you
focus on in telling your own story?
Discussion Questions Regarding House of Houses by
Pat Mora
1) Las animas, the spirits of the dead, can be attracted by
the smells of food, according to Mexican traditions. In
many ways, this book can be compared to an elaborate
meal. In practically every scene, the harvesting,
preparation, sharing and eating of food takes center stage.
Peter Anderson
(Pinedale group)
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House of Houses was the first book we read, and contrary
to reports from some other discussion leaders, I didn't find
the book that tough to finish, nor did my group. This may
be in part because it was the first book of the season, and
people stuck it out.
was disappointing in its brevity; didn't seem like the person
read the book.
It does seem a bit long once you get around to
"September" or so. But the Pinedale group apparently
loved it even so. My emphasis was principally on Mora's
use of symbolism to represent her family, her culture, her
sense of self, her memory. The book, like her poetry, is
deeply imbued with traditional and non-traditional
symbolism--metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, all that
stuff. We had a lively discussion of food, and memories of
food, and another on gardening.
[first section excerpted]
Rick Kempa
Marcia [Hensley]commented that most of her group found
House of Houses a difficult book to get into, but those who
completed it were rewarded by the effort. She felt the book
had more to offer than Road Song, for which it was
substituted, and was glad to have had the chance to
discuss it in the series. Initial problems for the group were
(1) the use of untranslated Spanish and (2) keeping track
of the many characters and whether they were living or
dead. She answered "yes" to whether the book evoked a
discussion of significant issues and ideas. "We discussed
why Mora used the untranslated Spanish. Their initial
negative reactions were mitigated somewhat by pointing
out that Mora's audience was not just an Anglo one, that
one of her goals was to promote Latino cultures, and that
many of the ancestors who were characters in the book
spoke no English. As to the concern about keeping track
of characters, people agreed that they began to sort
themselves out, the further you read in the book. The part
of the discussion that drew everyone in occurred when I
asked them: "In what sense do the spirits of our own
ancestors interact with us in our lives?" This led group
members to a very personal revelation of their
experiences and they thought of many ways, such as. .
.telling stories about them, repeating stories they told us,
keeping genealogical records and photo albums,
continuing family traditions, using recipes they gave us,
treasuring family heirlooms, and visiting places which
evoke their presence. This helped the group see that the
living spirits in Mora's book are not as unusual as they first
thought.
Although several people complained mildly about the
Spanish imbedded in the text, they didn't seem to struggle
with it too much. I don't think any of us worked very hard at
translating everything. We just skimmed the Spanish as if
it were decoration--artwork or something. When I was
studying the book the first time through, I spent some time
translating Spanish phrases, and concluded that doing so
wasn't helping me understand the narrative. If I lead this
book again, I'll explain that prior to their undertaking it.
Peter Anderson
The discussion of Pat Mora's House of Houses went very
well. Personally, I thought the book was wonderfully rich
and excellently written--my favorite of the series--and my
goal for the discussion was that the group would arrive at
a rich appreciation of it as well. I thought this might take
some doing--after all, the book is not an easy read, and
poses some significant challenges--with its bi-lingualism,
non-chronological arrangement, breakdown of the barrier
of time, and multitude of names and nicknames. I ended
up being delighted with the openness that the participants
had towards the book.
Other insights about the book: The group noticed such
things as the tension Mora's family felt because they were
light-skinned Hispanics and the fact that they refused to
capitalize on the fact that they could have benefited from
passing themselves off as whites. We had a lengthy
discussion about whether the House of Houses was real,
examining passages which described it. although we all
had thought of it as real in the beginning, we gradually
became aware that it was a magical house Mora had
created. We also considered the imagery of the garden in
the desert and what that suggests.
We confronted the book's challenges, discussed how
Mora was not just out to "make trouble" for the reader, but
that her decisions about form and style were appropriate
to her intent. We pointed out, too, how these features have
been used in other acknowledged "classics" of literature-from War and Peace to Alice in Wonderland. We
celebrated, with Mora, the importance of telling the family
stories, of recording the cultural heritage and folk
wisdoms, of being grounded in a particular place, of being
connected to the physical world, the garden. We admired
the love with which she told these stories--how none of the
family would cringe, as families so often do, to read what
has been written about them. We talked about the poverty,
prejudice and limited opportunities that Hispanics faced
and still face. We noticed how Mora's work as a poet and
children's book author influenced the way this story was
spun. We decided we'd all like to meet her.
Although differences in style tended to overshadow
similarities, readers thought that Mora's book had in
common with Blew's book its inclusion of family members
both living and dead, and more focus on family than on
herself. Like Moody's book it gave us insight into a culture
with which most of us have had little experience. Major
differences they noted were the magic realism style and
the light-hearted tone.
A couple of tips for research: The Dictionary of Literary
Biography had several good pages on her, as did the
series Something About the Author. (Both series are
usually in public libraries). The New York Times review
Resources I found useful for information about Pat Mora
were: Barnes and Noble's listings found at bn.com. They
had a thorough biography of Mora, reviews from the
Library Journal and Publisher's Weekly. Another good
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review was in Smithsonian (Dec97, Vol. 28 Issue 9, p.
154).
effort was wroth it. I think those who didn't read the book
gained from the discussion. One of the things I've learned
from these discussions is that people who haven't read or
finished the books are often prompted to do so after the
discussion.
Marcia Hensley
I like the variety of books in this series. I wouldn't change
any of them. I WOULD do more "set up" for HOUSE OF
HOUSES. For example, I think it helps to encourage
people to slide over the Spanish words and not worry
about trying to keep everyone straight (alive and dead!).
The group split sharply over House of Houses. Some felt
the reader had to work too hard to enter the book: the
muddled chronology, the numerous names and
nicknames, forgettable characters and episodes, the living
and the dead, and-especially-the untranslated Spanish.
One woman even questioned if it fit in the series because
it seemed to her that we never really learned many details
of Mora's immediate, personal life. Others felt the book
was the most beautiful, inspiring thing they'd read during
the series. All agreed the book had beautiful elements in
it--beautiful passages, beautiful images and description,
beautiful sentiments about family and faith. For some, this
wasn't enough to make a fragmented work worthwhile.
Barbara Gose
In the previous session I had warned the group to not
worry about trying to figure out the untranslated Spanish
or trying to sort out who was alive and who was dead
among the numerous characters, but to just read for the
wonderful family stories she tells. Despite this warning I
think the low turn out probably indicates that several
people found it too difficult to decipher. However, those
who stuck with the book and finished seemed to really it.
One apparently successful approach to reading the book
was just to surrender control and just read it-ignoring
who's alive and who's dead, not fussing about chronology,
skipping the Spanish that wasn't immediately accessible.
Women who reported doing this seemed to have the most
positive reading experience.
I began the discussion with additional biographical
information about Pat Mora. I brought along two of her
collections of poetry and two of her children's books (The
Rainbow Tulip and Tomas and the Library Lady). I also
brought some pictures of Mora and her family that I printed
from her website (www.patmora.com). I then started out
asking for general questions or comments about the book
to get the discussion rolling. Most of the early comments
had to do with confusion over who was who (since some
family members are referred to by 3 or 4 different names
or nicknames), and how they fit into the family - because
the genealogy in the front of the book (although helpful in
other ways) includes only Mora's direct ancestors, none of
the Aunts and Uncles are listed.
In addition to discussing a host of topics and themes (how
houses weave through our memories, the value of
gardens, cultural roles of men and women, the function of
family stories, border life and prejudice, faith, family, spirit,
bodies and souls), we also spent time wrestling with the
question of how hard an audience can be expected to
work when reading a book. Different kinds of reading, we
observed, take different amounts of effort-the difference,
for instance, between reading for entertainment and
grappling with a novel of ideas. The amount of work we
were willing to invest in a book, we decided, depended
upon the payoff the author gives us. Does the book give
insights or inspiration? Does it broaden our view? Does it
touch us? Does it change us? Perhaps, some speculated,
we were not Mora's primary audience. Perhaps she was
writing for a regional bilingual audience, an audience who
wouldn't have to work as hard at the book and so didn't
have to wipe the sweat from their eyes in order to see the
book's coherent beauties.
We then discussed some of the big themes in the book
such as houses, gardening, food, prejudice, religion, the
traditional roles of men and women, and the Mexican Day
of the Dead traditions. Most felt the book was well written;
they enjoyed Mora's poetic writing style and thought the
imaginary house teaming with her ancestors (both living
and dead) was an interesting and unique idea. The group
thought the chapter discussing Mora's father's decline into
dementia was very moving. One group member pointed
out how stereotypically sexually repressed the women in
the family were. This was an angle that I hadn't ! thought
of but she's quite right there are several examples of this
in the text (especially Aunt Lalo, and Aunt Chole). We also
talked awhile about comparison between this book and the
other books we have read in this series. I finished up with
a short introduction to the final book (Bronx Primitive) and
some biographical information about the author (Kate
Simon).
We also touched on the book's form. Family and faith, we
agreed, unite the book and seem to be the bedrock of
Mora's world. The book is circular, cycling through the
months of the calendar, the seasons of the year, the
holidays of liturgical observances, the stages of a person's
life, the generations of a family. The same circular
structure appears in the construction of Mora's dream
house, the adobe circling the family courtyard (the house
around the garden, the spirit within the body).
Deb Koelling
--Elaine Hayes
. . .It's true that we had the smallest group for HOUSE OF
HOUSES. And some of the people who came did not
finish the book. But for those who stuck with the book, the
This book was substituted for Road Song, which, I
understand, is out of print. I explained to the group the
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book would read easier by ignoring who is alive and who
is dead and how they are all related. From the responses
at discussion, it is a helpful introduction for those
unfamiliar with magical realism as the only person unable
to finish the book was not at the prior meeting.
older people had learned to accept the system if they
wanted to eat and live. The youth had not learned the hard
lessons so they could step up and fight. The brutality was
viewed as an obstacle. Registering to vote seems so
fundamental to us toady it is hard to imagine the fight
necessary to vote. The Movement‘s difficulties of working
in a rural grassroots area were a surprise to most of us.
The author gave us a perspective not always expressed in
the documentaries.
Six women attended. One of our members is from Mexico
and has lived here for five years. Her insights and detailed
descriptions of the celebrations, holidays, Saints, families
and faith made for a great discussion. She told about
Christmas and Easter celebrations and the importance of
religion as well as the types of food, lights, music, and
festivities. Many cultural differences and similarities were
brought up, including attitudes towards death; extended
families; men's work and women's work and men doing
women's work; women's roles inside and outside the
home; immigration and racial issues; pecking orders;
reasons
for
emigration;
educational
opportunities/limitations in Mexico; border life.
We admired the author for her desire to be in the
Movement. Her personal life seemed to suffer, but it may
have been an unnecessary part of this story. She did have
a boyfriend or two, but they were not the focus of what
made her come of age. The death of Emmett Till and the
burning of the Taplin family were catalyst for the direction
that her life took.
The book was enjoyed by all, but reading it reminds us of
the deep sadness in parts of our history.
From the response of this group, I think the book will work
well in the series. This is an intelligent group of women,
but each book so far has been an "eye-opener" in some
respect. These women really seemed to enjoy getting
inside Pat Mora's family and cultural background.
Betty Strong
Fourteen people gathered for this, our final, meeting in the
series Ordinary Lives: Memoirs of American Women.
--Kim Knowlton
The group was saddened by the poverty in which the
author and her family lived. Learning to work as a
submissive domestic worker and take the mental, physical
and sometimes sexual abuse was necessary to survive in
the South at the time. Anne Moody showed her courage
and character when she began to go against the grain.
She was in the right place at the right time or she would
not have lived. She also realized in her coming of age that
her actions could and would bring negative consequences
to her family even though she was not in the same town.
Her naivety let her start down the path she took and
courage kept her on that course.
Participants had strong reactions to this book. A number
of readers found it difficult to get through because of the
complicated genealogy, the use of Spanish in the text
without translation and the episodic nature of the
narration. At least one of the participants had spoken to
me beforehand about these stumbling blocks, as she
experienced them. Other participants found the book
engaging, and told of simply letting go of trying to keep the
chronology and genealogy straight and allowing
themselves to carried by the stories, and especially by the
evocations of sensuous pleasure in the book. Several of
those identified the last chapter as especially evocative
and beautiful. These responses led to a discussion of the
question of what makes a memoir. Is it a primarily linear
representation of a life, or is it organized around
emotionally powerful moments that give meaning to one's
existence? As with this whole series, our conversation
moved from consideration of that issue in the particular
book to that issue in the lives of the participants. This led
to two other topics: 1) the place of memory in human life
and the question of whether it is a reliable repository of
fact or, rather, primarily a source of story-telling; and, 2)
what are the cultural influences on our sense of who we
are as individuals. We discussed the idea that the author
seems to take much of her identity from her relationships
with all of her ancestors, both living and dead, who inhabit
this house of houses. In contrast to other books in this
series, this book is a memoir of a family as much as it is
the autobiography of the author. The author's identity is in
all the relationships she has with ancestors and current
family members, more than it is in her own, individual life.
We touched on the idea that this may make more sense in
Hispanic culture than in non-Hispanic, although we were
tentative about that because none of was of Hispanic
descent.
Several were surprised that the Civil Right Movement was
powered for the most part by the youth of the country. The
Some people found the presence of Spanish in the text
off-putting, while others found it engaging. This led to a
Coming of Age in Mississippi was discussed in Upton.
The eight of us began discussion focused on anger. One
member of the group was very angry that the blacks were
treated as if this were Nazi Germany. The attitude toward
blacks in the South was foreign to all in the group except
one who grew up in the area. Her experiences were
flavored by her father‘s military career and the acceptance
of different cultures and races by her parents since they
had lived in many places. (Military people used to move
nearly every year.) My anger surprised many in the group.
I was angry because this book seemed so ―ho-hum.‖ We
have been bombarded by atrocities since the Movement of
stories of suppression in this country and around the
world. Currently the stories are from other countries. We
have become calloused to the suffering of others because
it is a nightly feature on the news. In the late 60‘s and
70‘s, this story was like many I read and expressed
disbelief and horror about.
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discussion of what the intended audience of the book is.
One person assumed that it meant it was directed at a
Hispanic audience, while others pointed out that it is
dedicated to her, and her siblings', children who are less
connected to their heritage. This led to a whole
consideration of the relationship between author and
reader. I recalled a comment by the author, Jerzy
Kosinski, that the writer and reader are in a kind of duel,
because the reader can always stop reading and abandon
the book, so the writer must entice the reader to keep
reading even as he/she tries to direct the reader where
he/she intends the reader to go.
We also discussed the relations between the genders in
the book, and the role of the women in holding the
"house" together while the men tended to work all the time
or to go off on adventures. We questioned whether these
roles still hold in Hispanic culture, and tended to agree that
they no longer hold in the world we inhabit. The
sensuousness of the world of the book struck many of the
readers, with the abundance of smells, sounds, sights and
the physical closeness of the characters. The whole
question of the relationship between the living and the
dead occupied considerable time. Most of the participants
come from a culture where the dead are not felt as present
in our lives, but the more we talked about it the more
people spoke of their own attachment to things that remind
them of their ancestors, and a growing desire to know
more about them, as a way to enhance their own identity.
We briefly mentioned the political context of Mora's
history. Her ancestors on both sides initially immigrated to
the US to escape the revolution led by Pancho Villa. We
also noted the freedom of movement between El Paso
and Juarez across a border that is much in the news
today. Finally, we looked at all four books together,
finding points of similarity and difference. There was
general agreement that Mora's book is distinct from the
others fundamentally; it is not a coming of age story, or a
linear narrative of a life, but an evocation of identity as
connection, while in the other three, the conclusion of the
book, and the story, is leaving, or desiring to leave. We
spoke briefly,and only partly facetiously, of each of us
writing a memoir over the next year, and having our
discussion group next year be a sharing of those memoir.
That won't happen, I am sure, but it was a testament to the
power of these book to make us consider our own lives
and identities.
Stephen Lottridge
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