Jacquie Presents: Sense & Sensibility, the Screenplay and Diaries by Emma Thompson

 Jacquie's Email  Hello, Most Amiable of Literary Ladies!!! I endeavor to remind you of the next meeting of our dear Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson but a few days earlier than I have done in the past, to give you the time, if you have the inclination and find it agreeable with your streaming service, to watch a film I hold in the highest regard, Sense and Sensibility, the making of which is the basis of the presentation which will be given by yours truly a few days hence: Sense & Sensibility: The Screenplay and Diaries by Emma Thompson. I am hoping that the enjoyment of my presentation will not be incumbent on your having recently viewed the film, but I suggest that it will certainly add to it, affording you recent memory of the story and scenes referred to in the diaries. I must say, it is the most pleasing of films, and one I have been delighted in viewing over and over again in recent days.

We will be gathering for what we can only anticipate will be a sumptuously displayed not lunch at Gita's gracious home, with its most genial view. We will meet at the usual hour of twelve noon. Our president, Joanna, will assuredly seek our attention at 1 PM for our meeting to commence.

I sincerely look forward to being in your gentle company next week.

Now, my dear madams, I must release you, x Jacquie

Link to the film on Amazon Prime Video

Christine's Minutes Eleven members, one associate, and one daughter/honorary member, Gita’s daughter Ilsa, met on October 23 in Gita’s lovely sunroom/treehouse. Ilsa flew in from Paris especially to be with us, and of course to make sure that Gita’s 90th birthday was celebrated in a most literary manner. Which it was, with a pumpkin cheesecake and cookies and fruit. The highlight of our cannot-be-called-a-not-lunch were frittatas à la the Barefoot Contessa.

Assorted recommendations for books and movies were shared before the official opening. These included Alexei Navalny’s diaries, in The New Yorker; The Apprentice, a movie about Trump’s early grooming by Roy Cohn; Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld, based on Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; Longbourn by Jo Barker, telling the Pride and Prejudice story from the viewpoint of the servants; Bollywood’s Bride and Prejudice, and the 1994 version of Persuasion with Ciarán Hinds.

Joanna rang the bell mere minutes after 1 pm, and thanked our most gracious hostess Gita, as well as her daughter. Laura read the minutes of the October 9th meeting.

And then it was time to go to the movies. Or should I say, to make the movie? Today we heard from Jacquie about Sense and Sensibility: The Diaries by Emma Thompson.

Sense and Sensibility was published anonymously in 1811, though Jane Austen wrote it in 1795, when she was twenty years old. It is a 300-page novel written in the archaic diction of the 18th century, yet it is also funny, romantic, familial and…as we discover, perfect material for a late twentieth century movie.

Having established these important facts, Jacquie gave us some background on the inimitable Emma Thompson. She was born in London in 1959 to two actors. She did her A-levels in English, French and Latin, and went to Newnham College at Cambridge. There she became the first female member of the Footlights, where her nickname was Emma Talented. In the early 80s she was on television, and then became noticed for her role in Me and My Girl in the West End. In 1987 she played the female lead opposite Kenneth Branagh in the BBC series, Fortunes of War. They married in 1989.

Throughout the late 80s and 90s, Emma appeared in many excellent movies and films (often with Branagh), including Look Back in Anger, The Tall Guy, Henry V, Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, King Lear, Impromptu and Dead Again.

It was in 1990 that Lindsay Doran, an American producer, approached Emma about writing a screenplay for Sense and Sensibility, having seen her performance in Dead Again.

For the next five years, Emma worked diligently on the screenplay while appearing in several more remarkable films, including Howard’s End, Peter’s Friends, Much Ado About Nothing, Remains of the Day, In the Name of the Father, Junior, and Carrington.

Then, it was time to find a director. Doran saw Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet and his Eat Drink Man Woman, and decided he was the one to bring Sense and Sensibility to the screen.

His first directorial act was to ask Emma to play the role of Elinor Dashwood.

A little gossip which even Jane Austen would regard as essential to a full understanding: Emma and Kenneth’s relationship ended in 1994. They held on for a bit, then announced the split in 1995. This emotional trauma forced Emma to focus intently on the movie production. The good news – of which Austen would approve – was that while making the film she met Greg Wise, who played Willoughby, and they fell in love. They married in 2003.

At last we get to the Diaries. Well, first a quick plot summary, which I will not summarize here.

Members then read aptly chosen selections.

We heard about Ang Lee’s directing style, and how he began each day with meditation and exercises. After one meeting, Emma describes Hugh Grant breezing in and looking “repellently gorgeous.” We eavesdrop on her ‘girl talk’ with Kate Winslet and hear about the novelization problem.

Meanwhile, the paparazzi keep showing up for that gorgeous Hugh Grant. Whenever they shoot in a historic house, there would always be a cadre of National Trust volunteers in the room, making sure nothing was damaged and that no more than 11 people were in the room.

The diaries describe the eighteen takes they shot for the Elinor and Lucy Steele scene, when Edward Ferrars arrives on the scene. She describes Alan Rickman as “splendid” in uniform (and I agree).

One favorite exchange is this, between Kate Winslet (who did all her own stunts) and Alan Rickman:

Kate: My knickers have gone up my arse.

Alan: Feminine mystique strikes again.

We also hear about spots on the face, incontinence, lousy modern hotels and the fact that camphor is good for the ‘staggers.’

It must be pointed out that while we read these entertaining and instructive entries, we were accompanied by the staccato obbligato of a woodpecker just outside our aerie.

The filming and the diaries end on June 9th, and real-life kicks in.

But wait, there was more. Jacquie played for us Emma Thompson’s acceptance speech from the Golden Globes, in which she spoke just as Jane Austen would have had one of her characters speak. And going from the subline to the ridiculous, we watched Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant riff on each other on the Graham Norton show.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that there are few better ways to spend an afternoon than at a Literature Club meeting, high in the trees, accompanied by avian percussion.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Joanna Presents the Mitford Sisters

Jacquie's Email: Hello Literary Ladies! Just a reminder that we will be meeting this Wednesday, October 9th in Sharon's gracious home for this coming week's meeting of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson. Not lunch will be served beginning at noon, and Joanna will ring the bell at 1pm to begin our meeting, after which she will give her presentation on The Mitfords: Six Sisters and Thousands of Letters.

Six accomplished sisters! And only two were avowed Nazis. A parent could only dream!

As we delve more deeply into this year's theme of “Letters, Journals, Diaries,” I think it will be interesting to explore the idea of how technology will affect the work of historians and fans alike in the future in their understanding of individual thinkers and artists. Do members of the younger generation still keep written diaries or journals? Do they put pen to paper to write a letter or even a note? Letters and even birthday wishes to my own three sisters are all in a cloud somewhere and therefore completely lost once I forget my email password. And though, unlike the Mitfords, these will not be of interest to anyone going forward, wouldn't you just love to read Kamala's texts to her sister?

I look forward to seeing you all on Wednesday! x Jacquie

Laura's Minutes Members gathered at Sharon DeLevie’s home for a terrific not-lunch, climaxed by warm scones, to set the proper British mood for the presentation to follow.

Minutes were read from the meeting of September 25, and the treasurer's report was given. The first of our booklet corrections had Laura passing out little cards to be scotch taped into the booklet, so we really do have a February 26 meeting with Constance presenting at Carla’s home.

Joanna’s presentation is titled: “The Mitfords: Six Sisters and Thousands of Letters.” She began by introducing the family, mentioning the land, connections, and the fact there was very little money. Joanna first found the Mitfords during the pandemic, by reading two novels by Nancy Mitford. The novels explore family stories of a big, bustling family like and unlike the actual Mitford clan.

The father, David, did not believe in education for the girls, so they were educated by governesses and tutors at the various homes they lived in. The one brother, Tom, did go to boarding school, and hence is not much on the scene.

A wonderful part of Joanna’s presentation was the guide to the six sisters given to each member, so we could get to know them in a brief fashion, before we started reading their letters to one another.

Nancy, the writer, spent much of her adult life in France. During the war, she flirted with socialism and fascism, but then became a staunch Gaullist for the rest of her days.

Pamela, the country girl, married a physicist, cooked splendidly, and produced no children. After living briefly with two women in Switzerland, she returned to England and became a poultry expert.

Diana, the beauty, admired Adolf Hitler, and served time in prison during WWII for it, spending the rest of the war under house arrest. She was married to Carlos Mosely, the fascist leader. After the war, they lived in Ireland, finally settling in France.

Unity, so smitten with Hitler and the Nazis, moved to Germany. An unsuccessful attempt at suicide when war was declared between Germany and Britain led to her profound impairment. Her mother cared for her until she died in 1948.

Jessica became a socialist and eloped to Spain after the war there. Her first husband died in WWII. She married an American and moved to the US, where she became an active member of the Communist Party. Her writing proved successful, many of us remembering her book length investigation titled The American Way of Death.

Deborah, the youngest, remained firmly apolitical. She married into nobility, with a big family estate. She made it her business to save and restore the house and grounds, and put it on solid financial grounds. Gift shops, promotion, charging admission saved the home and were all the result of Deborah’s excellent business sense.

So the guide Joanna gave us had even a symbol for each sister, a pen for Nancy, a swastika for Unity, etc. It was so handy to consult as we heard various letters. And these letters were the intimate close missives of women who lived apart but remained close.

My favorite quote is from Deborah’s letter to the imprisoned Diana. Deborah writes just before she is to marry. “I do so wish you weren’t in prison. It will be sad not having you to go shopping with, only we are so poor I don’t have much of a trousseau…”

Deborah has two more quotes that convey some of the dottiness and charm we enjoyed at the presentation. Again, Deborah to Diana: “I expect we shall be terrifically poor, but I think how nice it will be…”

Deborah writes: “I was among the girls called up to work at some horrid job for 48 hours a week, but now I’m in pig (note, pregnant) I don’t have to do it and you know how I hate work, so it's very lucky.”

And Deborah writes to Jessica (the socialist): “Well, dear, I’ve smacked my ovary and taken it to Madame Bovary and the result is I’m in pig.”

It was a delightful afternoon!

Respectfully submitted, Laura Rice
(substituting for Christine)

The New Season Begins

 Jacquie's Email: a handwritten letter

If your screen is too small to read Jacquie’s handwriting, here’s what it says:

September 22, 2024

Dearest Literary Ladies,

Happy first day of autumn! It’s been a while since I’ve written—and even longer since we were sitting around Christine’s gorgeous pool celebrating me...* I mean for our final meeting of our fantastic, quite varied 2023/2024 season of Literature Club Topics from the Years We Were Born (or Topics That Are Inspired by That Era). Boy am I not sad to never have to write that theme title again!

And I’m so happy to be sitting on my porch, a slightly perceived nip in the air, to remind you all that we will be meeting this Wednesday, September 25th at Frances’ beautiful home. If the weather cooperates, we will be meeting outdoors at noon for our newly adopted fan favorite, not lunch! Joanna will ring the bell promptly at 1 PM for our first meeting of the 2024/25 season of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson’s LETTERS, JOURNALS AND DIARIES. (So much easier!)

As an introduction to our new theme, we ask that, if you’d like, to please bring any fun letters or journal entries from people you considered for your topic, or as a teaser of you own topic, to share with the group.

SEE YOU WEDNESDAY!!! 💙JACQUELINE

*We celebrated Jacquie's birthday at our summer meeting

Christine's Minutes: On our first meeting of the 2024-2025 season, thirteen members and one associate of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson met in the welcoming backyard of Frances Greenberg.

President Joanna Riesman rang the bell at precisely 1 PM. She welcomed us all back, for this Free-For-All meeting. She thanked Frances for the lovely non-lunch, which included the New York Times favorite recipe of all time, the plum tarte.

The minutes of the June meeting were read and accepted.

Our treasurer reported a treasury still unchanged, with $422.73.

Effusively thanking Frances for her technical help, Laura passed around the elegant booklets for this season. So far there are no major changes. Well, maybe a few. Connie’s presentation date was inadvertently omitted: She will present on February 26.

The plan for this first meeting, absent a specific presentation, was for members to bring in collections of letters they like, or find interesting, and read a few. A potpourri of epistolary specimens. An omnium gatherum of correspondence.

Jacquie started off the readings with Antony Sher’s Year of the King. During a junior year abroad in London, Jacquie managed to see Kenneth Branagh as Henry V, Ian McKellen as Coriolanus, and Tony Sher as Richard III. Obviously, it was a year well-spent. The sections we read presented a dialogue between Michael Gambon and Lawrence Olivier, as Gambon was auditioning for the role of Richard III; a lunch with Sher’s psychotherapist in which the character of Richard III was analyzed; and of course, discussions of whether crutches should be used to portray Richard’s “deformity,” and if not crutches, then how to represent it.

In the brief intermezzo, a Spotted Lantern Fly was successfully squashed, and there was a discussion of how few SLF’s there were this year, as compared with last year.

Christine passed around an invitation to the benefit for RTA, Rehabilitation Through the Arts. This prompted a rather extraordinary story from Sharon, who will be teaching a class on the short story in Sing Sing this year. On her first time there as an RTA volunteer, she was shadowing the director, who was doing a read through of The Exonerated, as a play they might present. Roles were handed out randomly, and Sharon’s was to read the part of Kerry Max Cook. This may seem uncanny and weird, because it is, but in Sharon’s first job as a cub reporter, she was sent to interview a death row inmate, and it was that same Kelly Max Cook.

Laura then read from Women’s Diaries of the Westward Journey, in which young women travelling west wrote of their hardships, and especially of the loss of their children. It was impossible to listen without admiring the courage and resolution of these very young families.

Frances shared The Journal of the Fictive Life, by Howard Nemerov, the famous poet, and brother to Diane Arbus. He describes his struggles to write a novel. This led to a discussion of accomplished siblings, and what factors lead to the phenomenon.

Carla presented Cake by Moira Kahlman, containing remembrances of significant cakes in her life, including the birthday cake that matched her party dress. It is a lovely book.

Christine read letters from Madame de Sévigné and then Evelyn Waugh, and no, there is no connection between the two except their c-existence on Christine’s bookshelves.

We ended with a discussion of the personal letters we inherit, and what to do with them.

The movie, My Old Ass, and the play, Yellow Face, were highly recommend.

Then the threatened rain became real, and in a show of brilliant efficiency the literary ladies of Hastings ferried the food and plates back into Frances’ kitchen, fire bucket brigade-style.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Carla Presents Jamaica Kincaid

 Jacquieʼs Email Hello Literary Ladies! How is it possible that we have reached the end of our 2023-2024 season and that wonderful mouthful of a theme, “Literature Club Topics from the Years We Were Born” or “Topics That Are Inspired by That Year or Era.” And what an eclectic collection of topics and wonderful presentations we have experienced! Thank you all for sharing your topics with such love and passion. It really has been a banner season.

“I'll read anything. In fact, I'll read while
I'm doing other things, which is
not a good idea.” —Jamaica Kinkaid

But I'm getting ahead of myself, as we luckily still have one more presentation! As has become our tradition, and a beloved one at that, Carla will be presenting at our final meeting of the year on “1934/35 Foreign Influence on American Literature: Jamaica Kincaid.” It should be a balmy 87 degrees on Wednesday, June 19th, so how lucky are we to be meeting around Christine's glorious pool? Coincidentally, this is where we held our first meeting of the year with Barbara Morrow presenting Rebecca West. That September 20th seems like only yesterday and also a lifetime ago. We will meet at noon for non-lunch al fresco, and Joanna will call you all out of the pool promptly at 1 pm to start our meeting.

And please indulge me for one final note on this year's topic. As I haven't let ANYONE forget, I will be celebrating my 60th birthday on June 19th and I imagine aging, nostalgia, and the passing of life's milestones was on my mind already a year ago March when I threw out the idea for this topic at our annual meeting. How glad I am that it was embraced for this year's theme and how fitting it has proven to be at this time of such great flux in our world order and uncertainty for the future. In looking back on the ideas that our Lit Club predecessors were examining, and thinking about the times they were living through, hindsight gives one hope that our era, too, will be looked upon with curiosity by those who come after us. I can only pray that they will be looking back on a time when cooler heads prevailed, and the possibility of our great democratic experiment once again proved the best instrument for working towards a more peaceful and just world. And as my beloved RuPaul Charles would say, “Can I get an amen up in here?”

I look forward to seeing you on Wednesday. I can't imagine anything I'd rather do on my birthday than spend an afternoon with you all, the inspiring members of our glorious Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson! xJacquie

Christine's Minutes In what seems to be yet another tradition, on June 19th, 2024, twelve members of the Literature Club members gathered at Christine’s pool and plunged into the water in a most literary fashion. (Sentences splashed.) A non-lunch of salads and crustless tea sandwiches was served.

The big news was that our preternaturally youthful Corresponding Secretary, Jacquie, turned sixty, on this very day. And, naturally, some of us will take any excuse for eating cake. Especially a delicious Oreo cake brought by our President.

The festivities were such that the bell was not rung until 1:16 pm.

Due to the shameless dereliction of two of our officers, there were no minutes of the previous meeting, nor was there a treasurer’s report.

There was a brief discussion of the plethora of flyers arriving in our mailboxes, full of negative political advertising, for the upcoming primaries. Much dismay was expressed.

Connie reported that 343 books were delivered to Family Social Service of Yonkers, for three separate literacy programs.

Vice-President Laura passed around the schedule for next year, in case anyone cared to name their topic.

Christine regretted the noisy helicopters traveled upstate. She regrets that she has no influence with the FAA.

Not so the case with our speaker, Carla. In the year of her birth, 1934, the topic was “Foreign Influence on American Literature.”

Carla began her program on JAMAICA KINCAID by telling us all to buckle our seatbelts, as we fly to Antigua in the West Indies, birthplace of Elaine Potter Richardson. In her air-steward persona, Carla passed around sugar-free bonbons, and described for us what we, the arriving passengers, would see. Including an airport named for the Prime Minister.

The writer we know as Jamaica Kincaid was born in 1949. She went to British schools, where she was a brilliant student, but when her third brother was born, she was forced to leave school at 16, to help support the family. She was sent to New York to work as an au pair. She got along well with the mother of the family, as she chronicles in her novel, Lucy, but she never sent home any money. She cut off all contact for the next twenty years. After her time as an au pair, she worked for a while as a photographer, and then received a full scholarship to Franconia College in New Hampshire. She dropped out after a year, returned to New York and began writing for several magazines. In 1973 she changed her name to Jamaica Kincaid. She got to know William Shawn, editor of The New Yorker, and wrote pieces for “Talk of the Town.” In 1979, Kincaid married Allen Shawn, a composer, and the boss’s son.

Most of her fiction was rather autobiographical. At the Bottom of the River, her first book, was a collection of stories set in the Caribbean, most of which had initially appeared in The New Yorker. Her first novel, Annie John, came out in 1985, describes a young girl growing up in Antigua, where a snake can lurk hidden in the basket of fruit atop her mother’s head.

Members read selections from Lucy (1990) a novel about a West Indian young woman living with a couple and their children in New York City. The author describes a first sexual experience with a delicate flippancy.

Kincaid was awarded the Pen/Faulkner Award in 1996, yet her reviews were often mixed. Some reviewers described her as overrated and bipolar, but others called her: exhilarating, compelling, unique and sublime. Michiko Kakutani wrote that she “writes with passion and conviction, and she also writes with a musical sense of language.”

We read passages from Autobiography of My Mother (1996), about a girl sent off to live with the laundress by her vain and selfish father.

In See Now Then, Kincaid dissects and excoriates the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Sweet. who live in the “Shirley Jackson house.” Based on her marriage with Allen Shawn, she does not refrain from expressing anger and pain. Their two children, named Hercules and Persephone in the book, are used as pawns between the warring parents.

Now for Something New and Different—Carla passed around Kincaid’s beautiful My Gardening (Book). Each member then randomly chose a paragraph to read aloud for our delectation. There was not a sloppy paragraph, or an un-beautiful sentence. The topics addressed ranged from Joe-Pie Weed to the evil-looking Monkshood to the relationship between gardening and conquest to Gertrude Jekyll to the fact that a garden will die with its owner.

To end our afternoon’s program, members read the short story, “Girl.” Take a series of instructions; give them to a young girl; use semi-colons to divide each instruction; keep repeating the phrase “like the slut you are bent on becoming;” tell her how to sew on a button; tell her how to cook okra; keep calling her a slut; tell the whole story of the girl’s island life in this short story that is all one sentence.

It was an enlightening program, a great way to end this season of revisiting our birth years, and a perfect start to summer.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Kathy Presents Lewis Mumford

 

Lewis Mumford

“The ultimate gift of conscious life is a sense of the mystery that encompasses it.” —Lewis Mumford

Jacquieʼs Email Hello Literary Ladies! A reminder that we will be meeting this Wednesday, June 5th at Carla's home to hear Kathy present on the intriguing theme from her birth year “1958/59 Fifty Years in the Realms of Gold (1908-1958)” for which she has chosen to present on Lewis Mumford, American historian, sociologist, philosopher of technology, and literary critic, who, according to Wikipedia, is “particularly noted for his study of cities and urban architecture.” Unfamiliar with both the phrase “Realms of Gold” and the work of Lewis Mumford as I am, I will not deign to comment here but will leave it up to Kathy in her premier presentation to the Literature Club.

Carla will open her doors at noon for our now traditional and much loved not lunch, and I will have the honor of ringing the bell at 1pm to start our meeting, as both of our fearless leaders, Joanna and Laura, will be unable to attend. (I believe the birds of Iceland and a bunch of lawyers in Tivoli, NY are the attractions that draw them away—you tell me who will be having more fun...) Carla writes about coming to Greystone Apartments, “parking is tight, carpooling is bright!” The day looks like it will be a lovely one, so the walk on the OCA might also be a way to go.

I look forward to seeing many of you there! x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes On June 5th, 2024, eleven members of the Literature Club knew they had gone to the right place when they saw the sign reading: YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT YOUR DESTINATION, affixed to Carla’s door. Upon entering we were met with another set of exquisite Hudson River views. A delicious non-lunch, topped off with Carla’s signature clafoutis, was enjoyed by all.

In the shocking absence of both president and vice-president, Corresponding Secretary Jacquie rang the bell at exactly 1 pm.

The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted.

Our treasury still contains $427.73

Ideas for programs on next year’s theme -Letters and Diaries – were bandied about. Names mentioned were Kurt Vonnegut, Wilson and Nabokov, Madame Sévigné, Emily Dickinson, Vincent and Theo van Gogh. Lewis Thomas, Noel Coward, and others.

Kathy Sullivan, for her debut presentation, chose to revisit the 1958-1959 theme of “Fifty Years in the Realms of Gold” on account of 1959 being the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Literature Club. Kathy’s focus was on work of Lewis Mumford.

The theme’s title comes from “On First Looking into Chapman's Homer” by John Keats. 

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Why Lewis Mumford? Well, for one thing, while it seemed that we had all heard of him, very few of us had actually read his work or understood his importance to American culture and architecture. But this was the man who, in 1926, set out to create the first canon of American Architecture, looking back to the very beginnings of the country.

Lewis Mumford was born in 1895, in Queens. He lived through the second wave of industrialization, and nuclear war. He died peacefully in his sleep in 1990.

Members read from Mumford’s obit in The New York Times, which hailed him as a philosopher, literary critic, historian, city planner, cultural and political commentator, essayist and perspicacious writer about architecture. (Most of us are lucky to manage just one of these occupations.) Though Mumford once said that if he specialized at all, it was as a “social philosopher.” The obit also referred to his opposition to Robert Moses’s expressway systems. He was awarded the National Medal of Arts in 1986 by President Reagan.

Kathy explained that in his studies of cities, Mumford pioneered the method of studying the present condition and then looking for threads that would lead back to previous forms.

Kathy relied on The Lewis Mumford Reader, edited by Donald Miller, and well as Miller’s Lewis Mumford, A Life. She also found it useful to read from his New Yorker column, Skylines.

Mumford grew up on the West Side, went to public schools, and then entered Stuyvesant, where, Mumford recalled, “my interests widened, and my marks worsened.” He studied at City College but did not graduate. Instead, he took graduate courses at Columbia and at the New School.

After working as a radio technician in WWI, Lewis became associate editor of The Dial. His essays on housing and cities appeared there and elsewhere and began to attract attention. His first book, was The Story of Utopias, came out in 1922. In 1923 he was a co-founder of the RPA—Regional Planning Association of America (Note: back in the 1990’s, the RPA facilitated several meetings designed to help the village of Hastings on Hudson come up with a comprehensive plan for the waterfront. Alas, even the RPA could not fathom the insanity and inertia that characterizes Hastings’ waterfront.)

Meanwhile, Lewis married Sophia Wittenberg in 1921, and they lived in Sunnyside, Queens.

Members read several excerpts from Mumford’s The Golden Day: A Study in American Experience and Culture, in which Mumford makes the case for an American canon of writers: Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman and Melville. He argued that because they all wrote before the social changes wrought by the Civil War, they were in touch with the core of what made Americans Americans.

For the 1939 World’s Fair, Mumford wrote the script for a film—with a score by Aaron Copeland—decrying the poor state of the cities and praising suburbia. (Thirty years later he retracted that opinion and said, “the suburb was as asylum for the preservation of illusion.”) Members saw a video of that film. We also read from “The Skyway’s the Limit,” one of his New Yorker columns.

One of Mumford’s many interests was how man was served by and controlled by technology, over time. As he got older, Mumford came to believe that a life filled with easy comforts and consumer goods required a Faustian bargain.

The more we learned about Mumford, the more we realized just how complex and all-encompassing this man’s vision was.

This was a fascinating afternoon that introduced Literature Club members to a remarkable and un-classifiable writer and thinker, a great debut program from Kathy.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Lori Presents on Irish Literature

Pool at Laura's condo

Jacquieʼs Email Hello Literary Ladies! FIELD TRIP!!!! As they say, three time's a charm, so get ready to meet in Ossining at Laura Riceʼs home this Wednesday, May 15th at noon for a delicious not lunch and, I imagine, a tour of the breathtaking river views of Scarborough Manor. I've included a scan of the directions Laura handed out at our last meeting below for easy access. Please talk amongst yourselves for organizing carpools.

Joanna will ring the bell at 1pm for a quick meeting at which time Laura will pass around the sign-up sheet for our 2024-2025 meetings when our theme will be Letters, Journals, and Diaries! Lori Walsh will then give her presentation on “1967/1968 Literature Born of Rebellion: Ireland.

I'm so sad I will not be with you all at Lauraʼs, or to hear Loriʼs sure-to-be marvelous presentation, but I will be back for our next meeting at which time I will get to ring the bell as both Joanna and Laura will be unable to attend. Dreams really do come true!

Have a wonderful meeting and I look forward to seeing you all in June. x Jacquie

Christineʼs Minutes Twelve members of the Literature Club, and one guest, Catalina Danis, gathered on the ides of May at Laura Rice’s fabulous new digs in Ossining, with views south to the Tappan Zee and Hook Mountain, across the river to Rockland State Park, and north to High Tor. I would like to report that we watched as bald eagles lunched on Hudson River Shad, but that will have to await our next meeting there. Members lunched on a delicious not-lunch of Orzo salad, hummus and strawberries.

Joanna rang the bell at 1 pm, and thanked our gracious hostess, Laura, and introduced our guest.

The minutes of our previous meeting were read and accepted. The treasury remains unchanged.

Joanna announced that the library’s next speaker will be Don Chen, the ED of the Surdna Foundation. Constance requested help with the job of counting the books to be delivered to Family Services in Yonkers. Joanna volunteered to help with that. Laura passed around a sheet with dates, for members to sign up for hosting and presenting.

A toast was proposed to the late, great Alice Munro, who died 2 days earlier at the age of 92.

Then while clouds massed over Verdietege Hook, we settled in to learn more of Irish history that ever before was imparted in a single afternoon.

Lori, born in 1967, chose to follow the 1967-1968 theme of “Literature Born of Rebellion.” She cited two books that signified in her research: Edna O’Brien’s House of Splendid Isolation, and Patrick Radden Keefe’s Say No: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland.

For the last 7000 years, Ireland has existed as a distinct Celt (or Gaelic) entity, with its language and culture, and religion. But for the last 800 years, it has been in conflict with Great Britain. In other words, the early 20th century rebellion and the more recent ‘Troubles’ follow directly from the prior centuries of British domination and persecution.

And so, with very un-Irish conciseness, the history: the island was settled by the Celts, or Gaels, around 600 BCE. In the fifth century, CE, Saint Patrick arrived, Christianized the population, made mention of the shamrock, and banished the snakes. The Vikings came in the 9th and 10th centuries, trading along the coast, and founding Dublin. The trouble began with the Anglo-Norman invasion in the twelfth century, under Henry II of England. They began by dismantling the ancient Gaelic traditions of land usage, and established feudalism. By 1541, the English controlled the entire island, and Henry VIII declared himself King of Ireland. After wresting land from the Gaelic clans, the king, and then his daughter Mary, encouraged English settlement. Charles I, in need of money, aggressively extracted wealth from the country. This got worse in Cromwellian times: more land was confiscated, and poor farmers were shipped to the West Indies as slaves. And then, yes, it got worse with the forced anglicization of Ireland. Their ancient language was suppressed and ultimately banned, the people became tenants on their former lands and the ancient social order of clans was destroyed. By the 18th century, Catholics were excluded from government. This meant that in 1798, the Irish Parliament—composed entirely of Protestants—was able to vote itself out of existence, so that Ireland would become part of the United Kingdom and be ruled directly from London.

Over the next hundred years, certain men and groups who led the fights against British domination became the heroes and martyrs whose names are still known and revered: Wolfe Tone, Robert Emmet, the Young Irelanders, the Fenians, and the Irish Republican Brotherhood.

Meanwhile, things just got worse for the Irish. In 1841, more than 8 million people lived in Ireland, and most of them were poor farmers, growing a single crop, potatoes. When the potato blight came in 1845 and again in 1846, starvation ensued. The Whig government in London used their newly adopted laissez-faire capitalism to justify their refusal of any help, while still forcing the exportation of other food to Britain. There were countless evictions. Over a million died in the famine, and over four million would emigrate over the next decade. British policy during the famine solidified the Irish resentment and belief in the need for independence.

Yet, it was not until 1996 that a British PM, Tony Blair, expressed the slightest regret for the British culpability in the famine.

There was a brief musical interlude, when we listened to Sinead O’Connor singing “Revenge for Skibbereen,” a ballad in the form of a dialogue between father and son about the suffering of the Irish in the Great Famine.

The Irish immigrants in America and elsewhere, soon began sending financial support for Irish independence.

Parliament’s Land Act of 1903 allowed for a rise in the (previously non-existent) Irish Catholic middle class, the revival of the Irish language, and small independent farmers. In Catholic schools, the glory taught of their Gaelic past was taught alongside the terrors of Hell and Damnation. Irish literature, often with old Gaelic themes, gave rise increasing nationalism, and the desire for Home Rule.

After many attempts, the Home Rule Bill was passed in 1912 and set to be implemented in 1914. Then came WWI, and Home Rule was suspended while the British wanted the Irish to fight with them in Europe. This was not popular.

On Easter Monday of 1916, the Irish Volunteers and the IRA seized several buildings in Dublin, including the General Post Office, where Patrick Pearse stood in the doorway, under the Irish tricolor, and read out the proclamation of the Republic of Ireland.

Terrible reprisals ensued. A British gunboat sailed up the Liffey and laid waste to the center of Dublin. They arrested countless men, and executed sixteen of the Irish leaders, creating instant heroes and martyrs.

Members read selections from …_________________ about the armed struggle. There were strong responses to the British barbarity. George Bernard Shaw denounced the executions, and the Catholic bishops spoke out, and finally gave their full support to the nationalists. W.B. Yeats wrote one of his greatest poems, “Easter, 1916.” 

After the war, a general election was held. In Ulster, in the north, the Protestant unionist vote won, while everywhere else Sinn Fein won overwhelmingly. The Sinn Fein delegates refused to go to Westminster and created Ireland’s own assembly—Dail Eireann—where they met in Dublin on January 21, 1919.

The re-constructed IRA continued to fight the British crown, and in response, the British sent in the Black and Tans. Partition came in May 1921, with Protestant Northern Ireland continuing as a British colony. However, minority populations remained in both the north and the south. The northern Catholics were especially vulnerable to discrimination and violence, a situation that lasted until very recently, with ‘The Troubles.’ The struggle in the south continued until the creation of the Republic of Ireland in 1949.

And onto the great Literature Born of Rebellion.

Members read from Brendan Behan’s Borstal Boy (1958).

Then we read several poems by William Butler Yeats: “Easter, 1916; Sixteen Dead Men; On a Political Prisoner; The Rose Tree.” 

Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

 Those famous last lines from “Easter, 1916,” continue to be emblematic of the Irish bravery and the Irish struggle.

Roddy Doyle was born in Dublin in 1958. We read selections from his novel A Star Called Henry, about a young boy who becomes an IRA volunteer and fights on Easter Monday 1916. We hear about the scene at the General Post Office from the point of view of Henry.

There was, alas, no time for Frank O’Connor or Sean O’Casey. But there is never enough time for all the great Irish literature we would like to read. Thanks to Lori, who then sped home and flew off to Dublin in the evening.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Gita Presents Henry Miller

Henry Miller

Jacquieʼs Email Dearest Literary Ladies, With the little I know about Henry Miller, it seems apropos that this May Day, the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be meeting to hear Gita present: “1934: The Year Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer Was Published.”

We will be meeting at noon on Wednesday, May 1st at Constance's charming home. The highly popular Lit Club Not Lunch will be served. Joanna will ring the bell promptly at 1pm to begin our meeting.

At the moment it looks like it will be a beautiful day, so those who will be walking to avoid the tight parking around the high school will have a lovely time of it. Constance says you are welcome to park in her driveway. I hope to see many of you there! x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes Fourteen members of the Literature Club–as well as Gita’s daughter, Ilse Willems, flown in from Paris for just this event–gathered in Connie’s living room. A not-lunch, that did not include Connie’s famous poached salmon, was enjoyed by all. (Though there was smoked salmon, lest anyone go home in despair.)

Our President, Joanna, rang the bell at precisely 1 pm, and thanked our gracious host. Vice-President Laura passed out copies of her doctoral dissertation (said to be in the style of Henry James)–either that, or those pages comprised the directions to her home in Ossining, famous for its views. In the spirit of E.B. White, Linda simplified: drive north, then turn left.

Our treasurer reported that we currently have $422.73.

Joanna reminded us that the library’s annual gala will be held on June 9th, from 5:30 to 8pm. The theme will be “Songs that Tell a Story.”

Lori, in her capacity as head of the Hastings Youth Council, told us about her youth group’s plan to do something intergenerational, specifically to engage with senior citizens (a demographic to which some of us qualify). They have had one successful event and would like to do another in June.

Christine related a recent news item about the theft of numerous first editions of Pushkin from libraries all over Europe.

The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted.

Onward to Gita’s riveting presentation on Henry Miller, a writer we all know about, but few have actually read. This was about to change. In the spirit of full disclosure, Gita told us that if you read the Tropic of Cancer or the Tropic of Capricorn, you will likely come away thinking that the world is about to end, that all men are horrid alcoholics, and all women are prostitutes. To set the mood, Gita read us a section from the Tropic of Cancer, describing Olga, a prostitute with warts and halitosis.

However, Henry Miller was greatly admired by young writers; they were drawn to his complex prose, his character studies, his surrealism and mysticism, his use of stream of consciousness and explicit language.

It was 1934, and our Gita was born in Latvia, while Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer was published in Paris. It would be banned in the US for the next twenty years; but it was frequently stolen from libraries. (Miller and Pushkin have this in common.) To the dismay of those of us with prurient minds, Gita announced that, in our assigned readings, she would be skipping the sexual passages and focusing on passages revealing Miller’s bipolar personality.

Although Cancer was the first to be published, Capricorn comes first, chronologically, when seen as his autobiography. Thus, Gita began our readings with the Tropic of Capricorn.

Miller on himself: “I was a philosopher while still in swaddling clothes.”

Members read a wide array of selections, dealing with topics such as his Christmas birth, his father the Congregationalist deacon, Dostoyevsky, how Myrtle Avenue in Brooklyn is like Dante’s vision of hell, his shame when a Black man doffs his cap to him, Strindberg, and Babylonian whores.

From the Tropic of Cancer, we read passages about Miller’s time living at the Villa Borghese, his friends Boris and Carl, his decision not to seek perfection, his view of Paris as an artificial revolving stage, Germaine the whore, the therapeutic effects of proofreading, his “menagerie of a brain pan,” the idea of America, and returning to America.

Only once we were well-acquainted with his writing, did Gita give us a brief (and perhaps sanitized) view of his life. Henry Miller was born on December 26, 1891, to German-Lutheran parents. They lived in Manhattan and Brooklyn. In 1924 he worked at Western Union in NY, while he struggled to become a writer. In 1930 he moved to Paris, where he would write his two great novels. He became friends with many surrealists. He returned to the US in 1940 and settled in Big Sur, California. He was married five times and had three children. At the age of eighty he published a collection of essays. In 1973 he was nominated for the Nobel in Literature. He died in 1980 in Pacific Palisades.

Members all expressed their delight at getting to know the work of Henry Miller, all in one lovely afternoon.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Laura Presents Martha Gelhorn

Martha Gelhorn, Sun Valley, 1940

Jacquieʼs Email: Hello Literary Ladies! With the weather report looking iffy, our plan for our next meeting on Wednesday, April 17th, is to play it a bit by ear depending on the actual weather. At the moment, we will either be OUTSIDE in Joanna’s spring-fresh garden or INSIDE in her work-site chic home. Laura Rice will be presenting on 1947/1948 Selections from American Literature of the 20th Century: Martha Gelhorn. What will Laura provide for theme-dress-up this time? Pearls and fatigues?

Joanna’s gate off the Old Croton Aqueduct will be open at noon on the 17th, and she will ring the bell promptly at 1pm. (Actually, her gate is always open, and you are certainly welcome to enter by her driveway, I just liked the way that sounded.) She also asked that you please enter the house through her garden (kitchen) and not the driveway (front door), adding, “Not to be too risqué, but I'll be happy to show you my exposed joists afterwards.” So much to look forward to!

If it's looking sunny and you think we might be spending a little bit of time outdoors, please bring layers and hats, as you see fit. A light not-lunch will be served.

Hoping to see most of you on Wednesday, and fingers crossed for a beautifully sunny day on Wednesday!–x Jacquie

P.S. Please excuse the silly tone of this reminder. The morning sun and the fact that we are not at all-out war in the Middle East is making me a bit giddy.

Christineʼs Minutes Fourteen members of the Literature, and one guest–Linda’s daughter Rebecca–gathered in Joanna’s lovely kitchen, which allowed for better-than-usual proximity to the source of food.

Joanna rang the bell at precisely 1 pm, and made an apt analogy between our somewhat cramped quarters in the kitchen, and the exigencies of war correspondence.

Lori, our treasurer, reported that coffers are full to bursting with $422.73. Though a check will soon be written, for $16.00 to the Barkin Corner Book Shop, for books that will be delivered to the Family Social Services of Yonkers.

The minutes for March 13th were read and accepted.

The minutes for March 27th were also read and accepted.

Our Vice-President, Laura Rice, handed out a list of possible topics for next year’s theme, and asked us to circle five that we would like to see in the final ballot.

Then, putting on her presenter hat, Laura launched her program on Martha Gellhorn. Born in 1947, one of the themes Laura could choose from, was “American Literature of the Past 25 Years.” Meanwhile, she had also read the novel, The Paris Wife, about Hemingway’s first wife. And had come across the work of Martha Gellhorn. A topic was born. Martha Gellhorn however was not the subject of The Paris Wife; she was Hemingway’s third, penultimate wife. But quoi faire? Our speaker had already fallen for Gellhorn, through her collection of letters from the thirties and forties. Laura focused her report on the years 1930 to 1949.

But first a quick timeline of her life.

Martha was born in 1908 in St Louis. Her mother was a suffragette, and her father was a gynecologist. Moving right along, in 1929 she left Bryn Mawr after her junior year, and began working as a fact checker for The New Republic in New York. That was followed by other jobs in newspapers and ad agencies. While at the Albany Times Union, she met Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of the governor, Franklin. Mostly importantly, on Bastille Day of 1930, she met the very French and sexy Bertrand de Jouvenal. His father, Henri, a member of the old French nobility, had divorced Bertrand’s mother in order to marry Colette. Yes, that mononymic Colette. As a teenager, Bertrand had an affair with his step-mother. Martha fell head over heels for him. But in 1931 she returned to the Midwest to get an abortion. Bertrand could not marry her, because his wife refused to allow a divorce.

Between 1931 and 1933, Martha traveled throughout the United States with Bertrand, taking odd jobs as they went along. In 1934 she worked for FERA (Federal Emergency Relief Administration), reporting on the state of unemployment; but she was fired in 1935 for inciting a riot by unemployed workers in Idaho. Later that year she stayed at the White House, at the invitation of Eleanor Roosevelt, and there she met H.G. Wells. The following year she stayed with Wells in London. Later in 1936, she traveled to Key West with her now-widowed mother and a brother, and there she met Ernest Hemingway. The year1937 found Martha reporting from Spain, working on the documentary The Spanish Earth. In the following years she traveled between Europe and Cuba, and in 1940 she and Hemingway married, one day after his divorce from Pauline Pfeiffer. There were more travels, of course. In 1944, she took a slow boat to England, and went on to cover the Normandy Invasion. She visited Dachau in 1945. In December of that year, she divorced Hemingway. In 1949 she adopted a boy from an Italian orphanage. Five years later she married Tom Matthews in London. They divorced in 1963. In 1966 she reported from Vietnam. But her health was declining, and in 1970 she bought a flat in London. She died by suicide in 1998, at the age of 89.

Next, in pursuit of listener participation and interactive-learning, Laura handed out selections from Martha’s letters. Each member was to pair up with her neighbor, read the selections, and then share with the group certain points they found especially interesting.

The first selection was a letter describing her fateful meeting with Bertrand de Jouvenal, the Adonis. In a later letter, also regarding Bertrand, she writes how work can heal the wounds of unhappy love. In a 1931 letter from Mexico, Martha spoke of meeting and conversing with Diego Riviera. In 1935, we heard her deliver an ultimatum to Bertrand. There was also a letter from H.G. Wells, expressing his admiration for her. There were several letters, in 1934 and 35, written to Harry Hopkins of FERA, describing her despair for the unemployed, and her concern that the ‘dole’ was pauperizing the poor.

Then in 1941, suffering from a hangover, she writes to her dear friend, Hortense Flexner, called Teechie, about her desire for both excitement AND solitude. She laments the condition of womanhood. In 1944, also writing to Teechie, Martha describes icebergs as well as her breakup with Hemingway.

Following upon the letters, Laura read us Martha’s only work of fiction, from 1931, a heart-rending story of a young woman getting an abortion. It required no great imagination to conceive of a similar story occurring right now.

In the thirties Martha spent a lot of time in Spain, reporting on the Civil War there. In 1941 she went to China, on assignment from Collier’s, bringing along Ernest, who is referred to in her letters as U.C., for Unwilling Companion. She was able to interview Chiang Kai-shek, and even asked Madame Chiang Kai-shek about the Chinese treatment of lepers. We did not hear the response. Martha also met Zhou Enlai and thought him “the best of China”. Her writing consistently showed great attention to detail, and empathy.

After the war years, Martha continued to report from all over the troubled spots of the world, Vietnam, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Israel.

Laura ended with the closing paragraph of Gellhorn’s Travels with Myself and Another. It was a vivid and very moving program, of great interest to all.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

Linda Presents E.B.White

“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.”–Wilbur in Charlotte's Web

Jacquie's Email Hello Literary Ladies! Just a reminder that we will be meeting this Wednesday, April 3rd at noon in Barbara Morrow's divine hilltop home. Linda Tucker will be presenting on 1946/1947 Selections from American Literature of the Past 25 Years: E.B. White.
    Unfortunately, the weather report calls for rain, but I imagine we will all feel cozily ensconced in Barbara's warm, yellow living room which will surely buoy all our hopes and dreams for these April showers. We will begin to gather at noon. Our newly elected club president, Joanna “I will only be a dictator on the first day” Riesman, will ring the bell for the first time in her tenure quite promptly, I'm sure, at 1pm, to begin our meeting.

Diana's Minutes (substituting for Christine) Ten members of the Literature Club gathered in Barbara Morrow’s comfortable living room, warmed by the fire while listening to chilly rain and raging wind outside. Barbara served a delicious spread, including an assortment of cheeses, Middle Eastern dips and pita chips, nuts, dried fruit, and a tray of lovely sweets.

Our new president, Joanna Riesman, rang the bell promptly at 1pm, and she thanked outgoing president Constance Stewart for leading us through two challenging years. As Jacquie said so eloquently in her email, “Constance dealt with the complicated topsy-turvy era of uncertainty, constantly re-visiting the questions: In-person or not? The library or someone's home? To mask or not to mask? To lunch or merely to snack? Hamlet had nothing on Constance!”

The minutes of the last meeting were not available, as our secretary, Christine Lehner, was cavorting among the mountains, volcanoes and beaches of Costa Rica. We did not have a Treasurer’s report, as our treasurer, Lori Walsh, was also away, in Morocco.

We had a brief discussion of several topics: Jacquie mentioned that the play telling her father’s story about being saved from the Holocaust in the Philippines is currently being produced in Los Angeles. Joanna announced that the Friends of the Library Annual Gala this year will be Sunday, June 9th, and will once again have a stellar entertainment line-up of local Broadway talent. We also discussed the upcoming eclipse next Monday (April 8); two Lit Club members (Laura Rice and Diana Jaeger) are traveling upstate to experience the area of totality.

Laura handed out a list of topics under consideration for our next year’s theme. At the next meeting, we will have a preliminary vote to narrow down the list before the final vote in May.

Our presenter, Linda Tucker, had the theme of “Selections from American Literature of the Past Twenty-five Years,” meaning the 25 years prior to 1946. Fortunately, one of the names on the Lit Club list appealed to her: E.B. White. Having written grammar books in the past, Linda figured that The Elements of Style is probably the closest she’ll ever find as a grammar book suitable for a Lit Club presentation. She structured her presentation into three parts: the essays, the children’s books, and, finally, The Elements of Style.

Elwyn Brooks White was born on July 11, 1899, in a fashionable section of Mt. Vernon, NY. He was the youngest of 6 children. E.B. was not a confident child: he said, “As a child I was frightened but not unhappy.” He loved being with animals.

He never liked the name Elwyn, and when he went to Cornell University, he was happy to acquire the name “Andy.” (Cornell students with the last name White were called Andy to honor Andrew Dickson White, a co-founder of the university.) The name Andy stuck. He published his work using the initials E.B. rather than the name Elwyn.

At Cornell he did well in courses that interested him and not so well in courses that didn’t. The course he took with William Strunk interested him a great deal. He still suffered from a lack of confidence, and the traits he exhibited at Cornel –wanting to do only what he wanted to do and greatly valuing his freedom, followed him through much of his life. So did his fears, but they morphed into a chronic distress of unspecific anxiety.

After graduation, Andy traveled to the West Coast and had several jobs over a period of 3 years, including working on an Alaskan fireboat as well as jobs writing, including at an advertising agency. He returned to the East, and in 1925, after The New Yorker was founded, he began submitting manuscripts. He was offered a job, but in his normal “I do what I want when I want to” way, it took a long time for him to sign on, and he agreed to work in the office only on Thursdays. (Kind of ahead of his time, insisting on “remote work.”)

After finding it difficult to commit to any girlfriends, Andy finally found happiness in a relationship at age 30: he had an affair with the New Yorker’s (married) literary editor, Katharine Angell; she divorced her husband and Andy and Katharine married in 1929. They had one son together, Joel. A bonus of his marriage was that E.B. (Andy) became stepfather to Katharine’s sons, one of whom, Roger Angell, became a major New Yorker writer and is known for his talents in writing about American baseball.

Andy and Katharine lived in New York City apartments and owned a farm in Maine, where Andy was always happier. They eventually settled in Maine. Both Andy and Katharine had health problems, both physical and mental. They had a good income, but they had a lot of expenses, including a large staff: a housekeeper, a cook, gardeners, and eventually, nurses and caretakers, and Andy worried about money.

Andy wrote for The New Yorker for 60 years (1925- 1976). He was known for his essays, his unsigned Notes and Comments, and Newsbreaks (the little blurbs at the end of articles, often based on quotes from newspaper articles). He wrote over 30,000 Newsbreaks. Andy kept writing for The New Yorker  for six decades, mostly because he was worried about money.

As we know, writing well is not easy, and E.B. White did not consider writing easy. In fact, he struggled to perfect each piece he wrote. He said, “I find NOT writing very soothing, but I haven’t figured out yet what I will use for money.” White’s essays have an eloquent, unaffected prose style, and were often quite funny. Linda’s Lit Club subject last year, Stephen Sondheim, said E.B. White was one of his favorite writers because of White believed strongly that “less is more.”

In the late 1930s, E.B. tried writing children’s books in addition to his work at The New Yorker. He was afraid he wouldn’t live long and wanted to provide more money for Katharine. His first children’s book, Stuart Little, was published in 1945 and was very successful; but even that did not help Andy’s depression. Charlotte’s Web, one of the most popular children’s books ever, was published in 1952. He wrote The Trumpet of the Swan in 1970; he may have written it solely for the money.

William Strunk’s Elements of Style was first used at Cornell University and was known simply as “the little book.” When E.B. White wrote an essay about “the little book” and MacMillan promptly called him to revise Strunk’s book. White’s essay is now one of the chapters in the Strunk and White book, and White’s stepson, Roger Angell, wrote an eloquent foreword to the 4th edition of the book.

Andy and Katharine’s later years were marked by continual illness. Katharine remained mentally sharp but was ill for the last twenty years of her life. She died in 1977 (age 84). Andy developed Alzheimer’s and died in 1985 (age 86).

We read selections from The Essays of E.B. White, two of his children’s books, Stuart Little and Charlotte’s Web, and finally from The Elements of Style.

Respectfully submitted,
Diana Jaeger (substituting for Christine)

Annual Meeting: Constance Presents and Presides; Joanna Takes the Bell

Hello Literary Ladies!!! So as not to jinx any aspect of our upcoming meeting, I will make this brief. (Please make note of the slight change of scheduling.)

The next meeting of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be held this Wednesday, March 13th at Frances’ beautiful home. Frances will welcome us all at noon for a large snack, but we will begin our regularly scheduled Annual Meeting at 12:30 PM, so that Constance has time for her presentation, “1959/1960 The Year of History” (Spec. New York State for the 350th Anniversary of Hudson's Discovery of the River) – 2023/2024 “Redo: ‘Discovery?!’ First Nations Beg to Differ: First Nation Writers,” featuring Margaret Verble* which will begin shortly after 1 PM.

Please come prepared to discuss potential themes to consider for next year. For those of you who are unable to make it before 1pm, feel free to send Constance your thoughts prior to our meeting and she will present them to the group.

I look forward to seeing you on Wednesday. The weather report is predicting 67 degrees and sunny! x Jacquie

*I won't comment on the fact that I had to type that complex title twice. I just won't!

Christine's Minutes On March 13th, whilst honeybees lured out by the warm weather buzzed hungrily around Frances’ rhododendrons, fifteen members of the Literature Club gathered inside, in the lovely double-decker living room.

President Constance rang the bell at 12:30 PM, to allow time for the business of our annual meeting, as well as Connie’s program. She thanked Frances for her gracious hospitality and delicious selection of nibblies.

The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted.

Our treasury is about to swell, as Lori collected from members our annual dues of a whopping $20.

To great acclaim and delight, the Nominating Committee announced our slate for President and Vice-President for the two-year term of March 2024 to March 2026: Joanna Riesman for President and Laura Rice for Vice. With appropriate ceremony, the Bell was handed over to Joanna.

As for the Annual Meeting, Linda raised the salient question: what is the difference between snacks and lunches? Should we or should we not eat lunch before the meeting?? Connie pointed out that for a first time since pre-Covid, Frances has placed identifying labels for the food. She called this: “a process towards normalization.”

Connie read the list of topics that was our starting point last year, and as ever, members suggested other topics, and definitions.

Connie began her program by situating us: we are sitting atop land that was the traditional territory of the Wappinger people, who were a spinoff from the Lenape, who were members of the Algonquin tribe.

The Literature Club’s theme for 1959-1960 (Connie was born in 1959) was titled: “The Year of History. Specifically, New York State–for the 350th Anniversary of Hudson’s Discovery of the River.” Not surprisingly, Connie reacted strongly to the use of the word “discovery” and decided then and there to present a program on an indigenous American writer.

Serendipitously, last year’s winner of the National Book Award for Nonfiction, was Ned Blackhawk’s The Rediscovery of American: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of US History. Our first reading, from Blackhawk’s book, began with a visceral question: how can a country built on stolen land (with stolen labor) be the world’s greatest democracy?

The indigenous writer Connie chose to read was Margaret Verble, and she showed us an interview with the writer on Cherokee TV. Verble is a voting member of the Cherokee Nation. In the interview she explained why she writes historical fiction: because she enjoys reading literary fiction, and because she realizes that she has been taught the history of Native Americans incorrectly, and because she saw a need for a “historical perspective.” Well-written. She also spoke of wanting to write the stories of people who, for a variety of reasons, have not been able to speak for themselves.

Verble has written four novels Maud’s Line (2015), Cherokee America (2019), When Two Feathers Fell from the Sky (2021), Stealing (2023). Her first novel, Maud’s Line, set in 1929, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. Despite that, Cherokee America, set in the 1870’s, was rejected 92 times before Houghton Mifflin accepted it.

Members read an excerpt from The New York Times’ review of Cherokee America, by Melissa Leonhardt.

The main character in Cherokee America is Check, a widow descended from Cherokees who survived the horrific Trail of Tears, the forced displacement of 100,000 Native Americans by Andrew Jackson’s “Indian Removal Act.” The plot is complex, with a large cast of characters. One central theme is the question of sovereignty in the Indian Nation. Members read short passages from the novel, and met Dennis Bushyhead.

On to Maud’s Line. This novel is centered on a single character, Maud, in the 1920’s, when Cherokee women had more property rights than white women in the US. The landscape of the book is Verble’s family land in Oklahoma, where snakes are a fact of life. In our readings we met Maud’s father, Mustard, her brother Lovely, and Booker, the schoolteacher/peddler. Connie noted that most of Verble’s female protagonists are married to white men, who are often portrayed more positively than are native men, who are often drinkers and fighters. In many cases, native women have married white men in order to ensure that their children are not taken away from them.

In readings from Blackhawk’s book, we learn more about the terrible policy of taking native children from their families and placing them in boarding schools, where their own languages were forbidden and the goal was complete assimilation. As recently as 1928, 40% of native children were being forcibly institutionalized.

Verble’s latest book, Stealing, came out in 2023. The engaging narrator, nine-year-old Kit Crockett, is the daughter of a Cherokee mother who died of TB and a supposed descendent of Davy Crockett. As the story unfolds, the reader realizes that the narrator is at a Christian boarding school, and then discovers how she came to be there. In these horrible circumstances, it is Kit’s avid reading, and her need to write that save her.

Connie then brought us back to our own Hudson Valley, once home to about 60,000 indigenous people. By 1825, there were exactly 125 natives living here. It is far too easy to draw the obvious conclusions. We were introduced to Kay Walkingstick, an 88-year-old painter of Cherokee descent. Many of her landscapes of the Hudson River are currently being shown at the New-York Historical Society on Central Park West, in a show juxtaposing Hudson River School paintings with Walkingstick’s paintings, overlaying the work with indigenous symbols.

I will end with a quote from Walkingstick: “They were selling the American landscape as empty, and of course it was not empty; it was populated. I think of [my paintings] as a reminder that we are all living in Indian Territory.”

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

A Short Story Reading

Program booklet 2023–2024 with changes

Jacquie's Email Dear Literary Ladies: from our discussion at our last meeting, I know you all agree with me that this year's theme, “Literature Club Topics from the Years We Were Born or Topics That Are Inspired by That Year or Era,” has already made for a wonderful mélange of presentations. And this week's presentation looks like it will only add to the richness of this fascinating season.Taking the subtitle of our theme to heart, Constance will be presenting:“The Year of History 1959–1960” (specifically New York State for the 350th anniversary of Hudson's discovery of the river)“Redo: ‘Discovery?!?’ First Nations Beg to Differ 2023–2024.” First Nation writers, featuring Margaret Verble.

In one of our rare unchanged program dates, we will be meeting at noon on Wednesday, February 28th in Carol's lovely hillside home. Constance will ring the bell promptly at 1PM for our meeting, and then, turn the meeting over to herself for her presentation. I look forward to seeing you all there! x Jacquie

Note: was it Jacquie's email mentioning that this was one of the rare unchanged meetings?  

Another Email: Hello Literary Ladies! Unfortunately, poor Constance, today's presenter, is sick and unable to present today. We will be rescheduling her presentation.
   But we will still be meeting at Carol's at noon today. She has “lots of food—snacks only, of course” and we'll read a short story together.
   Nothing clever to add, but I'm wishing Constance a speedy recovery! x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes On the day before the quadrennial bissextile day, that is. February 28 of a Leap Year, eleven members of the Literature Club met in Carol Barkin’s lovely living room. We nibbled on a lovely spread of tasty non-lunch food. Our Vice President, Joanna Riesman, started the meeting at 1:05 (which is what happens when there is no bell), as our president, Constance, was laid low by the nasty norovirus that is plaguing these parts.

The minutes were read and accepted. There was no treasurer’s report, but it is safe to assume that our treasury remains the same.

There was more discussion, and consternation, regarding the loss of The Rivertowns Enterprise, as well as possible alternatives. Someone (?) has started a Substack, called Rivertowns Currents, which can be accessed for free on the internet, which lists upcoming events in Hastings. The Hudson Independent publishes monthly and is based in Tarrytown. Will they expand to explain the southern Rivertowns? Laura mentioned that there is also a paper called The Northern Westchester Examiner.

Members recommended various books: Monsters, by Claire Dederer; The Art Thief by Michael Finkel; Lives of Girls and Women by Alice Munro; Dwell Time by Rosa Lowinger; and Master Slave Husband Wife by Ilyon Woo.

The movie, The Taste of Things, was highly recommended, as well as the Spanish Netflix series, Velvet.

In the absence of our scheduled presenter, Constance, we decided that we would revisit Dorothy Parker. Frances wisely chose the story “Horsie” for reading aloud. As with the stories we read last month, the story was both amusing and poignantly sad, and it sparked some interesting discussion.

The meeting ended at 2:30. We all hoped for Constance’s quick recovery so that we will be able to enjoy her program at our next meeting. 

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner
Recording Secretary

Joanna Presents Claire Keegan

Jacquie's Email Dearest Literary Ladies: a gentle reminder that we will be meeting this Wednesday, February 14th to hear Joanna present on her birth year's theme, “1965–1966 Modern Irish Literature: Claire Keegan.” Lori will be hosting our not lunch, starting at noon, and our meeting will begin promptly at 1 PM.

Good luck with the snow. Until then, x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes It was Saint Valentine’s Day when twelve members of the Literature Club met at Lori’s home, where we enjoyed a spread of Irish delicacies provided by Jacquie. Jacquie later explained that it was after chopping many vegetables and potatoes to make a rather bland soup that she experienced an insight into the nature of Irish literature: she needed a drink.

Constance rang the bell at 1 PM sharp.

The minutes were read and accepted, with couple of minor corrections.

Lori announced, to great fanfare, that–our check for the books in honor of Helen Barolini having been delivered to the library–our treasury now contains $118.73.

Born in 1965, our presenter Joanna Riesman had two possible topics to choose from: “Letters in Literature 1964–1965” and “Modern Irish Literature 1965–1966.” Noting that Brian (Bree’n) Moore was included in the Irish Literature year, she was excited to revisit him, particularly as he had been a very good friend of her uncle William Weintraub, and that her uncle had a very extensive correspondence with Moore.

Claire Keegan

However, Brian Moore wrote a whole lot of books, on various topics and in various styles, and some of them–it must be said–Joanna found to be a bit of a slog. So, the pivot. From a dead prolific writer, Joanna turned to Claire Keegan, a living Irish writer who has written very few books, and those books tend to be short. Her story collections are: Antarctica (1999), Walk the Blue Fields (2007); The Forester’s Daughter (2019); So Late in the Day (2023), and the novellas are: Small Things Like These (2021), and Foster (2010). Even her Wiki biography is a mere two paragraphs. And yet she already has a huge reputation in Ireland, and her work is staple of school curricula. Novelists such as David Mitchell, Hilary Mantel and Colm Tóibín are quasi-reverent in their praise for her writing.

Keegan was born in 1968 into a large family, with few books. She was 17 when she left home for New Orleans, where she went to Loyola College. When she returned to Ireland she taught school in the countryside. Eight years elapsed between her first collection, Antarctica, and her next, Walk the Blue Fields. She has said that her stories are often sparked by a single image, such as a bucket, for the novella, Foster.

As Joanna pointed out, the advantage of having such a compact body of work is that we can read about and read a “non-insubstantial percentage” of her work.

Members read an interview with Keegan from The Manchester Guardian, in which she spoke about Foster. That book, Foster, was made into a movie, The Quiet Girl. It was nominated in 2023 for Best International Feature Film. In 2022, her novella, Small Things Like These, was shortlisted for the Booker, the shortest work ever listed.

Her most recent work, So Late in the Day, was chosen by George Saunders for The New Yorker fiction podcast, with Deborah Triesman. In their review of that work, The Washington Post said: “Keegan illuminates violence better than almost anyone…She connects the violence of the past to that of the present, and domestic violence to state violence….The whole country is like a small town, obsessed with minor scandals while major ones go unheralded and unpunished.”

Members read the story “Men and Women,” brilliantly told from the perspective of a child, a story in which the opening of a rural gate can carry enormous significance. We also read the first half of “Small Things Like These,” a story so gripping that a non-insubstantial percentage of the members went home and immediately read the second half.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner
Recording Secretary

Carol Presents “Born into a World at War”

Jacquie's Email Dearest Literary Ladies: what a wonderful thing it is to wake up to sunny skies! And what a wonderful thing it is to know we have another meeting of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson to look forward to this Wednesday, February 7th, and Carol's presentation inspired by her birth year's theme “1943–1944: Born into a World at War: Multiple Authors.”

The Lit Club themes during the war years reflected the curiosity of our former members and their desire to help one another understand the wider world and our place within it. Theme titles then were “1942–1943 World Scene: Intimate Portraits of the Little People of the World” and “Half the World Knows Not How the Other Half Lives” with presentations on books about India, the Congo, Russia, Canada (!) and the Middle East, amongst others, and in 1944–1945 members responded to Woodrow Wilson's well-known statement in The New Freedom: “Only free people can prefer the interests of mankind to any narrow interests of their own.” Many explored  the West's place in far off countries, expressing their interest with a rich assortment of literary choices.

“Born into a World at War.” What were the conversations like at those long-ago Lit Club meetings, as members reflected on their own times? How will future members of the Lit Club look back on our times with the same prescience that we have now for that time? Oh, how I wish I knew how this all will end.

Gita's dining room table set for lunch. L to R: Christine,

Carla, Diana, Frances, Carol, Constance

Back to sunny skies...We will be meeting at noon in Gita's beautiful sunroom, with the meeting bell going off promptly at 1 PM. I look forward to seeing many of you then! x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes On February 7, 2024, ten members of the Literature club gathered in Gita’s sun-filled solarium, as if in a treehouse with views of the river and the Palisades. Gita had prepared an elegant Valentine themed non-lunch that featured charcuterie, beet hummus, raspberries surround a heart shaped chevre, and of course, given Gita’s lovely European flair, white wine was served. President Constance rang the bell at 1 PM sharp. The minutes were read and accepted. The treasury still contains $170. Members recommended a few books: Less, by Sean Andrew Greer, Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese, Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar, and The Bee Sting, by Paul Murray.

Constance announced that the nominating committee will consist of Carla, Frances and Christine, and that they will present a slate for the offices of president and vice-president at the Annual Meeting in March.

A lovely harbinger of Valentine's Day: Gita's

arrangement of raspberries and Brie

Our presenter, Carol Barkin, was born in 1944, and titled her program: “Born into a World at War.” Carol noted that the programs spanning her birth years were “The World Scene: Half the World Knows Not How the Other Half Lives” and “Only Free People Can Prefer the Interests of Mankind to Any Narrow Interests of Their Own,” a quote taken from a book by Woodrow Wilson. She found those topics a bit ponderous, so she chose to focus on the major event of the time—the World War —and as a text, she drew from a collection of essays that came out of a panel organized for her thirtieth college reunion. Her cohort of classmates, all born on or around 1943–44, all arrived at Harvard and Radcliffe by different paths, so that while they may have shared their college experience, they all started out in significantly different places, often different continents. As Carol pointed out, each one of them lived through a different war. There were two recurring themes in the essays were read: first, there was the theme of family disruption, which entailed the contrast between the disruptions to Americans and the disruptions suffered by immigrants, who, while often full of gratitude to the US for sanctuary, were also lamenting the loss of a homeland. The other great theme was silence. So much silence. Very few of the fathers described in these essays spoke of their wartime experiences, and in many cases, that reticence spread to the entire family.

The first essay we read from was called “War Babies,” by Maria Fleming. The author was born in 1943 into a working-class family in Providence, Rhode Island. When the father went off to war, Maria and her mother returned to her maternal family in Cleveland. There the young girl felt safe, in a matriarchal world, with a multitude of mothers. Her father’s return from the war was traumatic. He was traumatized by the war itself, by his sense of shame for what he perceived as his cowardice and fear. Like so many others, he repressed the memories, and was never able to fulfill his long-held hope to become a history teacher. Between the parents there opened up a “gulf of the unspoken war.”

We next read from Helena (Holly) Worthen’s essay “XXOO.” Because her father was a master at a private boarding school, Helen grew up both privileged and subservient. Her father was radically changed by the war: he returned as a pacifist, disillusioned by American ideals not lived up to; he was often loud and unpredictable and angry. He found a return to his old job depressing, as he could not fulfill his newfound ideas. The writer said that she eventually came to an understanding of her father, but that was mostly after his death.

“The Worm in the Apple” by John Dundas, the son of a British admiral and an American, niece of a diplomat. Dundas wrote that all his family described his father, before the war, as funny, capable, energetic, thoughtful and bright—a wonderful father to his three older sisters. Dundas’s father returned in 1945, a diminished man, who needed spinal surgery; he was not the same beloved father his sisters adored. The family moved to the US in 1949, and Dundas’s father died in 1951, when John was only 9.

Ursula Oppens’ parents left Hungary in 1938. Most of the family who stayed behind perished at Auschwitz. Of her mother’s 52 cousins, only 19 remained after the war. In her essay, “Silence,” Ursula Oppens explains how numerous family members helped Ursula’s parents when they came to America, but Ursula’s mother took a strong dislike to them. This meant that young Ursula grew up with even less family than she had remaining in Hungary. Her father attributed her mother’s antipathy to survivor’s guilt. They never spoke about what had happened in Hungary, either among themselves or to other family members. There was a sense that it was impossible to speak of one’s family without evoking their terrible ends.

In 1998, Ursula went with her mother back to Hungary, for her aunt’s 80th birthday. That was the first time the siblings ever spoke of their parents’ deaths.

In “Dissolving Repression: A Half-Century Report,” Howard Gardner wrote of his German Jewish parents leaving Germany in 1938, and settling in Pennsylvania, with a close extended family, whose adults all spoke German among themselves. But they did not speak of the Holocaust. In 1954, when Howard was eleven, he learned for the first time of two aunts who were liberated “as skeletons.” Influenced by various Harvard professors of German Jewish backgrounds, Howard studied the social sciences and psychology. Initially, his studies allowed him to maintain distance from his feelings and memories, but over time he affirmed the need to preserve memories. One of his many books was the very popular and important, Multiple Intelligences.

Eva Botstein was born in 1944, to Polish Jewish parents doing graduate studies in Zurich. When the war began, the Botstein’s remained in Switzerland, and all three children were born there. In Poland, their families went into hiding, or were killed. Eva’s maternal grandmother and an uncle managed to leave Poland after the war, coming first to Zurich and then to Mexico. With help from their relatives and others, Eva’s family got visa for the US in 1949. In “Growing Up in the Shadow of the Holocaust,” Eva speaks of a lifelong gratitude for the help they received. She was raised to believe in the importance of education—especially a Harvard education—and the need to find a useful career. For her, the legacy of the Holocaust was the need to make correct moral choices, to be reassured that one would not have been, nor ever be, complicit with evil. Eva Botstein grew up to become a pediatric cardiologist.

Finally, we met Carol’s dear friend, Christine Tanz. In “Hiding in the Open,” she writes of her Polish Jewish parents marrying in 1939, for the first of 4 times. In 1940, all Jews were ordered into the Cracow ghetto. Initially, Christine’s parents moved there, thinking it might be a safe haven. When it became clear this was not true, they bravely (?) rashly (?) left the ghetto and went by train to Warsaw. They always traveled separately, because, while certain characteristics and features, such as blond hair, blue eyes, and their language skills, convinced the couple they could escape capture, they felt they could manage better singly than coupled. Hence, every time they moved, they took on different names, and then had to marry again with their new names. In several stories, we learned of Christine’s father uncanny— and justified—confidence that he could elude the Germans; to this end he even suffered through an operation to reverse his circumcision. But once Christine’s mother was pregnant, they realized they could not stay in Warsaw. On the pretense of taking a vacation, they crossed the Vistula and rented a room; from there they could see the smoke of the Warsaw Insurrection in 1944. When she went into labor, Christine’s parents walked across the No Man’s Land, and Christine was born in a Russian military hospital. On Yom Kippur. After the war, the family went to Gdansk, then to France in 1948, and in 1951, they came to the states, ending up in Chicago, where Christine and Carol became great friends. Carol remembers the close family, and the enduring humor and resilience of Christine’s father. In her essay, Christine wrote of “the privilege to live an ordinary life.” She became a psycholinguist and studied language acquisition, and now lives in Tucson and makes public art.

Carol’s own experience, as a young child during the war, was different in many ways. Her father was a doctor, who worked at first in Texas, and was then sent to Japan. He did not see the battlefield. Meanwhile, Carol and her mother lived with her father’s parents, who surrounded her with love and attention. She does not remember her father’s homecoming in 1946, when she was 2. She remained close to her grandparents for the rest of their lives.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner
Recording Secretary“