Tag: Alice Eve Cohen

My Life in Book Quotes

I keep an ongoing Word file with details on my year’s reading: books finished with the date, number of pages, and source – similar information to what’s recorded on Goodreads – plus any quotations that particularly stood out to me. It occurred to me that by looking back through these annual book lists for the quotes that meant the most to me I could probably narrate my recent years. So here are the 2015–2016 quotes that tell my story.

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Career

 

“I’m learning that what’s important is not so much what I do to make a living as who I become in the process. … the heroine, when at a juncture, makes her own choice—the nonheroine lets others make it for her.”

(A Year by the Sea: Thoughts of an Unfinished Woman, Joan Anderson)

 

“The dishes. The dishes! The goddamn dishes! No wonder women don’t succeed.”

(The author’s mother’s explosion in The Year My Mother Came Back, Alice Eve Cohen)

 

“Success says, What more can I get?

Craft says, Can you believe I get to do this?

(How to Be Here: A Guide to Creating a Life Worth Living, Rob Bell)

 

“Amateurs look for inspiration; the rest of us just get up and go to work.”

(Everyman, Philip Roth)


Finding a Home

 

“In Orcadian, ‘flitting’ means ‘moving house’. I can hear it spoken with a tinge of disapproval or pity: the air-headed English couple who couldn’t settle.”

(The Outrun, Amy Liptrot)

 

“Where, after we have made the great decision to leave the security of childhood and move on into the vastness of maturity, does anybody ever feel completely at home?”

(A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L’Engle)

 

“there is no such thing / as the right route or a clear passage / no matter where you start, / or how you plan it.”

(from “Aneurysm,” Selected Poems, Kate Clanchy)


Life vs. Books

 

“He had accepted that if you were a bookish person the events in your life took place in your head.”

(Golden Age, Jane Smiley)

 

“my way of seeing has always been different, shyer. To see the world I’ve always opened a book.”

(The Violet Hour: Great Writers at the End, Katie Roiphe)

“Other people’s lives, and the lives I read about in books, seem richer, mine seems so threadbare.”

(The Past, Tessa Hadley)


Overthinking

 

“She remembered finding her first white hair somewhere near her thirtieth birthday and it had sent her on a tailspin for half a day. It’s starting, she’d thought then. The follicle that produced that hair is dying. I’ve reached the tipping point and from now on it’s nothing but slow decline.”

(Dog Run Moon: Stories, Callan Wink)

 

“All the most terrifying Ifs involve people. All the good ones do as well.”

(A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara)

 

“I wished then, and still do, that there was something in me also that would march steadily in one road, instead of down here or there or somewhere else, the mind running a net of rabbit-paths that twisted and turned and doubled on themselves, pursued always by the hawk-shadow of doubt.”

(Now in November, Josephine Johnson – to be reviewed here within next couple weeks)

Review: After Birth by Elisa Albert

after birthLooking for a heartwarming story about new motherhood? You won’t find it here. The narrator of Elisa Albert’s second novel, Ari, gave birth to Walker a year ago but still hasn’t gotten over the disruption to her life: the constant demands on her time and affection, the decay of her postgraduate thesis, and post-traumatic flashbacks to her caesarean section. Birth wasn’t the blissful, Earth Mother experience she wanted it to be; it was more like butchery: “nightmare blur of newborn stitches tears antibiotic awake constipation tears wound tears awake awake awake limping tears screaming tears screaming shit piss puke tears.” Now don’t get her wrong; she loves Walker: “He’s an awesome baby, a swell little guy. Still a baby, though, of which even the best are oppressive fascist bastard dictator narcissists.”

So even though Ari is reasonably happy and settled in her upstate New York home with her husband Paul (a professor 15 years her senior) and Walker, putting in the occasional shift at the local co-op and sending half-hearted ideas to her advisor, she can’t escape the thought that life isn’t as it should be. That is, until Mina Morris, bassist from a late-eighties girl band, moves to town to sublet her friends’ place while they’re on sabbatical in Rome. Ari had a girl crush on Mina before she ever met her, but when she realizes Mina is nine months’ pregnant, she sees a chance to put her new mommy expertise to good use. She’ll give Mina all the advice and support she wished she’d had. When the need arises, she’ll even breastfeed Mina’s newborn son, Zev. (Albert had a similar experience when her son was failing to thrive from breastfeeding and a friend fed him for her; see her Guardian article.)

after birth 2There isn’t a whole lot of plot to After Birth. Mina comes into Ari’s life for just two months and then moves on. Ari temporarily indulges her fantasy of a feminist collective where women help each other give birth and raise each other’s children; it is enough of a healing experience that she can conceive of resuming her thesis or even – ha! – having another baby. Still, she acknowledges that “the work of childbearing, done fully, done consciously, is all-consuming. So who’s gonna write about it if everyone doing it is lost forever within it? You want adventures, you want poetry and art, you want to salon it up over at Gertrude and Alice’s, you’d best leave the messy all-consuming baby stuff to someone else.”

Elisa Albert (from her Goodreads page).
Elisa Albert (from her Goodreads page).

It can be hard to warm to Ari’s sarcastic voice and jarringly short or disorientingly run-on phrases. Albert’s choice to exclude speech marks means that the whole book reads like a sort of fever dream, with past and present and different voices melding. My favorite passage is a monologue by an Oprah-like black nurse who encourages Ari in her early attempts at breastfeeding. There are also frequent flashbacks to Ari’s childhood: Jewish summer camp and the aftermath of her mother Janice’s untimely death. The memories of her mother’s illness (DES treatment leading to breast cancer) and the touches of magic realism as the dead Janice occasionally pops up alongside Ari, usually kvetching about her choices, make this uncannily similar to The Year My Mother Came Back by Alice Eve Cohen.

After Birth might not prove to be a classic of ambivalent motherhood, but if you’re in the right mood for it I reckon you’ll find it to be a striking novella.

My rating: 3 star rating