Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

memoir

The Dutchess is Keeping Me Sane (Sort of)

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I’ve made it no secret that I’m not fond of social media. I have stopped and started Twitter accounts so often it’s impossible for anyone to find me. Too often I find myself getting into arguments with strangers (who may not even be real people). I’m trying again, this time hoping to avoid that fate by limiting who I follow, especially in the political realm.

Upon my return to Twitter, my stepdaughter Sarah told me about one Duchess Goldblatt and sent me a link to a New York Times article about this mysterious, sage, and very anonymous persona that has hooked thousands of followers.

The Duchess, for the ten people who don’t know who she is (I am late to the party) is a fictional 80-year-old author who lives in the equally fictional Crooked Path, New York. She dispenses cleverness and wisdom in every post. She is a major fangirl of Lyle Lovett, and over time the feeling has grown mutual.

Duchess Goldblatt recently came out with a memoir, Becoming Duchess Goldblatt. She has written the book as the person behind her creation. In stories both funny and sad she tells of a life that had fallen apart: losses of job, marriage, and friends in a short period of time. The Duchess started as a way to help her cope, and ended up helping her heal.

Though I knew little about the Duchess before buying the book, I was enthralled with the writing. It’s an easy read, but I still found myself putting it down from time to time to absorb her words. It’s likely I’ll browse back through it another time or two. Despite hiding behind a fictional character, the author behind the Duchess is an incredibly authentic human being.

The Duchess says her Twitter feed is a refuge for the broken-hearted. For me, her feed and her book have provided a bit of light in these dark times. As we continue to tend to ourselves and each other, we need to find that light wherever we can.

When Breath Becomes Air #bookreview #memoir

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Yes, this is primarily a blog about fiction, but every now and then I gravitate toward memoir. This one is short, sweet, and too lovely not to share.

I knew this would be a tough read. As a neurosurgery resident, Paul Kalanithi was looking forward to graduating when he learned he had lung cancer. It’s not a spoiler alert to tell you he died from the disease.

What is astounding — miraculous, in my opinion — was his ability to write this book while in the process of dying. When Breath Becomes Air is a short book that is padded somewhat with a foreword by Abraham Verghese and an Epilogue by Kalanithi’s widow, Lucy. It seems to stop, largely because life stopped…this is not a flaw, but an achingly poignant end to a valiant effort.

Kalanithi writes about his path to becoming a doctor, something he never thought he would do, and shares honest stories of the joys and challenges of the difficult specialty of neurosurgery. As he navigates his way through diagnosis and treatment without any real knowledge of the time he has left, he examines his life closely to make the choices he feels are best for the remainder of his days, months, or years.

Born with a philosopher’s heart and soul, Kalanithi finds a way to live fully, and this book is a powerful affirmation of how we can live when we understand the finite nature of life.

When Breath Becomes Air is a meaningful book for anyone who may have to face difficult choices. It’s also a wonderful book for anyone in the medical profession who may feel tempted to lose sight of the humanity of their patients. Kalanithi, who continued to operate during part of his illness, finds himself learning how different life looks from the patient’s point of view.

Though this is a sad book, it is really a book about the fullness of life and about what we give to every moment. Kalanithi’s book is a brilliant legacy for a brilliant man who is gone too soon.

NOTE: I wrote this review before the sad and untimely death of author Brian Doyle. Doyle spoke frequently at the Chuckanut Writers Conference, and I had the great fortune to sit in the audience as he enthralled us, coaxed us, made us laugh, and shared his heart. He was another man who lived with fullness and generosity. He will be greatly missed.

 

Nadine Galinsky Feldman is the author of What She Knew and The Foreign Language of Friends, as well as the nonfiction When a Grandchild Dies: What to Do, What to Say, How to Cope.

Book Review — Jesse: A Mother’s Story #bookreview

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I will review a book only if I like it…and I’ve been through some clunkers lately! I am pleased to find one worth praising and sharing with you today.

I’m thinking of adding a second blog post starting Fridays to cover my NYC adventure. I have several weeks of Wednesday posts lined up, so it appears if I want to tell all these great stories, I need to blog more!

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Jesse Book CoverMarianne Leone is a force of nature. If she wasn’t born with the fierceness of a lion, she found that fierceness when her son, Jesse, was born ten weeks early. A cerebral hemorrhage just a few days into his new life caused a host of physical problems, including cerebral palsy and seizures. Yet despite quadriplegia and an inability to speak, Jesse managed to flourish. With the help of his tenacious parents, he lived a full, rich life. His loving mother tells his story in her book, Jesse: A Mother’s Story.

I met Ms. Leone briefly at the recent Port Townsend Film Festival, where she hosted a screening of My Left Foot and discussed her life with Jesse, who died in his sleep in 2006. She talked passionately about her efforts, often rebuffed, to integrate Jesse into mainstream education. She wanted us all to know that their story, though sad, is not tragic. She also wanted to make clear that she is no saint, that she is human and flawed, a woman who did the best she could with a situation that redefines “difficult.”

Jesse is beautifully written, with wonderful imagery. Ms. Leone has also included several photographs and poems Jesse wrote. Her book is a powerful education to people of how to relate to people with disabilities. Often people misjudged Jesse’s intellectual capacities, which were substantial, because of his physical challenges.

Both of us turned to writing a book as a way to bear witness to our children. Mine, When a Grandchild Dies: What to Do, What to Say, How to Cope, addresses the unique grief of grandparents, which is too often underrepresented in bereavement literature. I wrote it to honor my daughter Reba, who was stillborn.

Jesse: A Mother’s Story will join other brilliant books, such as My Left Foot, as testament to what is possible when someone believes in our potential, regardless of what appears on the outside.

Book Tuesday: What is the “Real” Israel?

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In 2008, hubby and I went to Israel. Stunning and stressful, inspiring and frightening, the country showed its many sides to us as we explored it in our rental car. When I came home, I wanted to write about it, but how? Nothing I tried to write did justice to the experience.

Author Martin Fletcher, who walked the western coast of Israel the same year we were there, has written the stories that I couldn’t write in Walking Israel:  A Personal Search for the Soul of a Nation. A longtime journalist, Fletcher had covered many battles and skirmishes throughout the country. He felt that he was missing something, and walked the western coast of Israel in search of the “real” Israel. Along the way he interviews Jews, Israeli Arabs, soldiers, and more.

Exuberant Tel Aviv!

As Fletcher hikes along the coast, my own memories come flooding back. In one example, he writes about Acre, with its medieval walls, where Jews and Arabs live peacefully, for the most part. Just before our visit, though, some violence erupted when an Arab drove his car into a Jewish neighborhood on Yom Kippur (the holiest day of the Jewish calendar). As with all things Israeli, however, it’s complicated, and hubby and I had a nice visit in Acre despite the violence just a week before. Fletcher reflects on this incident, though it occurred several months after his walk, and notes how challenging it is to separate politics from daily life in Israel.

When Fletcher describes the northern town of Nahariyya, I remember meeting my first former Israeli soldier: a pretty waitress in a local cafe. Slim and slight, she recalled doing her military service when Lebanon was bombing Nahariyya in 2006. My stepson was in Israel that year, and we feared for his safety, but his group leaders moved them further south out of harm’s way. I realized again what should be obvious: no matter how intimidating or powerful, many armies are made up of young, fresh-faced kids just starting their lives.

Roman ruins at Caesarea, where Napoleon was turned back.

 

Overlooking Jerusalem

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were so many contradictions and contrasts, too many to describe here. I am grateful to Fletcher for his ability to present them so clearly.

Fletcher doesn’t try to draw conclusions. His reviews are mixed because he hasn’t chosen one side or the other, but that’s why I appreciate it. It’s confusing and complex, and Fletcher doesn’t make it less so. He does, however, show the fascinating and frustrating land of Israel in a way that made me nod my head and say, “Yes, yes, that’s it. That’s what I couldn’t find the words to say.”

Sunrise at Masada, overlooking the Dead Sea

Blog of the Week: The Faces We Live

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Every now and then I run across a blog that demonstrates the genuine union of head and heart. Counselor, cancer “thriver,” author, wife, and mother are some of the many aspects of Dawn Novotny’s life. Her posts on The Faces We Live are meaty with experience and wisdom; she is a woman who has been there and done that.  She’s not only lived to tell the tale, but does so in a way that inspires all of us to dip more deeply into our own inner wells. In exploring her own shadow with compassion, she teaches us by example to do the same.

Dawn has written a memoir, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing Up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe. I haven’t read it yet, having only recently discovered her blog, but it looks interesting. Given the quality of her blog, I suspect it’s a fascinating read.

Have a great weekend! The construction here at the house drags on, but progress is being made. Next week I’m going to explain my latest obsessions (figs and labyrinths) and review a book that I can’t wait to share with you! It’s so good that it’s making anything else I pick up seem dull and lifeless in comparison. I hope you’ll stop by and visit!

Do you have a favorite blog that you’d like to see featured in the Thursday post? It could be yours! Go ahead and promote yourself or someone else in the comments, and I’ll be happy to take a look at them.

Book Recommendation: Let’s Pretend This Never Happened

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Think of a roller coaster. You get into the seat and feel it inching up, up, up, knowing that at some point you’ll start flying downhill at breathtaking speed, blowing back your hair and facial skin while you scream at the top of your lungs in fear-filled, adrenaline-laced joy.

That about sums up Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) by Jenny Lawson, aka The Blogess.

When I first started reading the book, I felt a little…confused. Was I reading an unedited ramble or comic genius? A West Texas native and the daughter of a taxidermist, Lawson describes an unusual life surrounded by animal blood and guts, among other things. Later, she meets and falls in love with Victor, who appears to be the “sane one,” with the exception of his Republican leanings (oops, there goes my political commentary again).

While Lawson takes us on the roller coaster of her life, I couldn’t help but notice that the wizard behind the curtain has managed a long-term marriage and motherhood, so I suspect that there’s a certain amount of cockeyed method to all the madness. If you noticed the mixed metaphor in the previous sentence, well, it somehow seems fitting when writing about this book.

Once I got used to the book’s style, I really enjoyed it and found myself reading passages aloud, gasping through my giggles, to hubby. I think it helps to be a blogger myself — we’re an odd breed, and I related to and understood much more of this book than I would like to admit. And, darn it, she made me cry, too, though I won’t spoil the moment for the rest of you. Let’s just say you’ll know what I’m talking about when you read that particular chapter. I also have had some experience with taxidermy in my home (don’t ask), though not at Lawson’s level, so when she describes her father’s eccentricities, I nod my head in sympathy.

For women “of my age,” Lawson’s free use of the f-bomb and ADD style may be off-putting, but I ended up having a good time with this book. Humor is hard to write well, and I think that for the most part, she succeeds. I admire that in a writer! Spend some time on her blog first so you get a sense of what to expect, and you’ll be fine. I started from scratch, which perhaps wasn’t the best strategy.

At the end of the ride, you’ll get up dazed and dizzy, but with a big, sloppy grin on your face. Enjoy!