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“

Frances Presents Dorothy Parker

Jacquie's Email Hello Literary Ladies! When you're sending out a reminder that our next Literature Club presentation is going to be on one of the 20th century's most clever writers, it's best not to try to be too clever. So, in taking my own advice, I will simply write that the next meeting of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be this Wednesday, January 24th at noon at the home of our newest member, Kathy Sullivan, when we will be hearing Frances's presentation on the theme of her birth year 1947–1948 “Selections from American Literature of the 20th Century: Dorothy Parker.” Round table... I mean chat will begin at noon, and our meeting will begin at 1 PM.

I look forward to seeing many of you there—hopefully well thawed out from the deep freeze! x Jacquie

Al Hirshfeld

Christine's Minutes On an unseasonably mild winter day (on the tails of the polar vortex), twelve members of the literature Club met at the home of Kathy Sullivan, our newest member. She served yet another variation on the newly-devised meal known to us as a Not-Lunch, which included soup, watermelon salad, rosemary nuts, hummus, crudites and brownies, none of which shall henceforth be considered lunch.

There was general lamentation about the abrupt and ill-advised cessation of the publication of our beloved and reviled local rag, The Rivertowns Enterprise. How will we know what artistic presentations are happening in our own backyard? How can we stay abreast of criminal activities without the Police Blotter? And where can we send letters or gratitude or irritation? Joanna informed us that the Friends of the Library may step into the breach, and create a village newsletter with upcoming events, but clearly, the loss of our local newspaper represents a serious diminution of the quality of village life.

President Constance rang the bell at 1 PM exactly. The minutes were read and accepted. Our treasury continues to hold at $170.

Carol announced that the Barkin Corner Bookstore maintained by the Friends of the Library, has a glut of children’s picture books as well as chapter books. With the idea of our club buying the books and giving them away to a local group, Constance will check with the Family Service Society of Yonkers, where she previously placed many books, and Christine will speak with Susan Meigs about the needs of the library at Children’s Village.

Two books were highly recommended by members: North Woods by Daniel Mason and Oath and Honor by Liz Cheney.

As per usual, multiple schedule changes were announced.

Frances Greenberg presented today on Dorothy Parker. She noted that in the spring of 1948, the year of her birth, the Literature Club theme was American Lit, and the works presented included feminism, the Harlem Renaissance, Countee Cullen and Latin American history.

Frances’s 20th century American Literature subject was Dorothy Parker. What can be said about Mrs. Parker? That like Oscar Wilde, her “dramatic life overshadowed her work”? That she is better known for her spoken witticisms than for her writings? That although she had a dark view of life, she could be awfully funny?

To give us context and perspective, Frances had members read from two introductions to Mrs. Parker’s collected works, separated by three decades: Somerset Maugham writing in 1944 and Brendan Gill in 1973. We heard her famous poem, “Resumé,” an acidic ode to choosing life over suicide.

While we know her better as a writer of stories and light verse, Parker’s careers as a critic and as a screenwriter were more lucrative and longer lasting.

Dorothy Rothschild was born in 1893 in Long Branch, New Jersey, where her family summered. She grew up on the Upper West Side. Her mother was Christian, her father was Jewish, and neither were religious; still, both of their families disapproved of the marriage. Her mother died when Dorothy was 4. Their father’s new wife was disliked by all four children. The step-mother died three years after marrying. Suffice to say it was a chaotic household without a mother figure in charge. Dorothy dropped out of boarding school after 2 years, effectively ending her schooling at age 14. Her father died when she was 20, and from that point on, she was on her own. She submitted stories and poems to magazines, and Vanity Fair accepted one. Months later, she had a job at Vogue writing captions.

Dorothy met Edward Pond Parker II while spending the summer in Branford, Connecticut with her sister and brother-in-law. It was love at first sight between the funny, bright, petite brunette writer, and the tall, blonde, alcoholic WASP stockbroker. They were married in 1917 in Yonkers. A month later, Edward Parker went into the Army and drove for the Ambulance Corps. Working on the front lines he became addicted to morphine. Back in New York, Mrs. Parker had become the drama critic for Vanity Fair, and was a regular member of the Algonquin Round Table. When Edward returned from the army, he managed to get off morphine, but kept drinking. The couple began fighting, and not very nicely. Mrs. Parker also drank copiously, but for many years she kept it under control. In 1927, Harold Ross, founder of The New Yorker, asked her to review books for the magazine; her by-line was the Constant Reader.

The twenties were a good time for Mrs. Parker. She was a regular diner and drinker at the Algonquin. In 1926 she published Enough Rope, a collection of light verse. The book was successful, but for Mrs. Parker, who had high literary standards, it was not good enough. Her drinking morphed from social to alcoholic, and she made bad choices in her lovers. She discovered politics in 1927, during Sacco and Vanzetti trial, which she protested. In 1937, she went to Spain and wrote about the Civil War. Much later, upon her death in 1967, her entire estate (which was not vast) was bequeathed to Martin Luther King Jr. He was completely surprised.

Beginning in childhood, and for the rest of her life, Mrs. Parker seesawed between affluence and relative poverty. She never quite settled down, and lived mostly in hotel rooms. She met her second husband, Alan Campbell, in 1931. The actor/writer was eleven years younger. They married in 1933, and often worked together on screenplays. For a while, he was able to bring order and domesticity into her life. At age 43, Mrs. Parker conceived a child, but miscarried. She never had children. The couple divorced in 1948 over an affair Campbell had with an Englishwoman during the war, but they remarried in 1950, only to separate yet again.

Meanwhile, Senator Joe McCarthy was on a witch hunt to root out Commies in Hollywood. Mrs. Parker was questioned by the FBI, who asked if her scripts were making Americans more sympathetic to Communism. She replied that she couldn’t get her dogs to behave, let alone a movie audience. She was not called before Congress.

During the fifties Mrs. Parker intermittently saw Campbell, and even collaborated with him. She also wrote brilliant stories, and reviewed books for Esquire. But she had trouble with deadlines, and Esquire eventually gave up on her in 1962. She was living at the Volney Residential Hotel when she died of a heart attack, aged 73, in 1967.

Members were entertained and enlightened as we read a few of her stories. “The Little Hours” is a brilliant soliloquy/rant about insomnia, and hating to count sheep. It includes such great lines as “This way leads to galloping melancholia.” And “Bed before morning, Sailors take warning.” “The Wonderful Old Gentleman” is a poignant and yet scathingly funny story about a family gathered in the living room, described as an “admirably complete museum of objects suggesting strain, discomfort, or the tomb”, while the old gentleman is dying upstairs. Without commentary, Mrs. Parker lays bare the years of sacrifice by the Bains, and exploitation by the Whittakers, reminding some of Jane Austen’s brilliant scene in Mansfield Park when Fanny Dashwood persuades her husband to impoverish his half-sisters, despite a deathbed promise to his father. We also read “Ethereal Mildness” which deviously extols a book called Appendicitis by Thew Wright, AB, MD, FACS, as a cure for insomnia. Who knew that beholding a “Vertical Section of Peritoneum” could induce such hilarity in the reader?

At 3 PM, we reluctantly ended a delightful afternoon discovering Mrs. Parker’s wit and wisdom.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner
Recording Secretary

Diana Presents Ian McEwan

Jacquie's Email Dearest Literary Ladies: Oh! How sad am I to miss this coming Wednesday's meeting when Diana will be presenting on Ian McEwan, a longtime favorite of mine.

My first encounter with Ian McEwan was in 1987 while reading The Child in Time, only realizing where I was after the final lines, the water in my bathtub having turned ice-cold, so engrossed was I in this heartbreaking tale. Second was hearing him in conversation with Martin Amis (!) at the Museum of the City of New York and reading from Black Dogs. And on and on. There's something about McEwan's stories that causes you to remember where you were when reading them—that moment of shocking revelation—always to be expected yet never guessed at—that causes one to startle, stop, consider, think, and feel. And the writing!

So, as I am (hopefully) landing in Fort Lauderdale for a few days in the (hopefully) sunny warmth, the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be meeting at noon in Lori Walsh's beautiful home for light refreshments and to hear Diana present on the theme of her birth year, “1949–1950 English Literature” and Ian McEwan. I will miss you all.

Happy 2024—with hopes for peace, good health, nuance in thought, good sense winning out in November, and lots of time together in good company or with a really good book...or both! Enjoy! x Jacquie

Spoiler Alert: The video interview shows McEwan in the beautiful home in the Cotswold which his writing supports. You may wish to wait until after Diana's presentation to view it to avoid biographical spoilers. Here's the link:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/novelist-ian-mcewan-writing-is-a-way-of-being/

Christine's Minutes: fourteen members of the Literature Club met for our first meeting of this new year, in the lovely living room of Lori Walsh.

Because of our current is-COVID-over-or-is-it-not meeting conundrum, Lori did not serve lunch, because neither rosemary shortbread, nor lemon cake, nor candied ginger, and certainly not cheese or crackers, could ever be considered lunch.

Naturally, there was much pre-meeting discussion of the heavy rains and extreme flooding—several members had basements full of water even as we met.

Our president, Constance, rang the bell and thanked Lori for our lovely not-lunch.

Carla read the minutes for the December 6 program, having kindly taken over for your absent secretary.

Lori informed us that we still have $170 in the treasury because we haven’t yet paid for the 2 books in memory of Helen Barolini, The Manuscript Club by Christopher de Hamel, and Earthly Delights, by Jonathan Jones. Frances will arrange for the book plates.

In order to maintain our very delightful tradition of Carla presenting for our last program in June, a few schedule changes were announced.

Certain film recommendations were: All of Us Strangers (with hot priest); Poor Things; American Fiction; Anatomy of a Fall; The Making of West Side Story (on You Tube). We were also enjoined to not see Dream Scenario. Members also recommended two novels: Lapvona, by Ottessa Moshfegh; The Other Name, by Jon Fosse.

Onward to our presentation by Diana. She began by explaining that the themes spanning her birth year, 1949, that is 1948–49 and 1949–50, were the same: British Literature. Thus making her decision rather simple. However, back then the individual programs skewed to the staples of an English Lit survey course, while Diana brought us right into the present, with a living author, Ian McEwan.

McEwan, currently 75 years old and looking quite good—yes, Diana admitted to a bit of a crush—has written seventeen novels, several collections, received too many awards to mention, and lives in a $12M chateau in the Cotswold. He is a Commander of the British Empire, which is almost as good as being a Sir.

McEwan was born in 1948 in England, but spent his childhood living abroad on military bases, in East Asia, Germany and North Africa. He described his home life as boring, though, as we will learn, behind that boredom lurked some very dark secrets. His mother, Rose, was a housewife, and his father, David, was a career army man. There were no books in his childhood homes. At boarding school, Ian taught himself to speak carefully, as he wanted to expunge his working-class accent; this attention gave rise to the precise writing style for which he is known. Having failed to get a scholarship for Cambridge—because he had not read Macbeth (let this be a lesson) Mc Ewan enrolled at the University of Sussex, and then got his master's from the University of East Anglia in 1972, where he fell in love with Penny Allen, a hippie and a prominent feminist. That was followed by his hippie period, when he and friends drove from Munich to the Khyber Pass in a VW van. During this period, he either did or did not wear a caftan.

Back to the family secret: Rose had a first marriage, before David McEwan. With her first husband, Ernest Wort (a surname I am certain McEwan is glad not to have labored with), she had two children. Ernst died in WW2, in 1944. Rose married David McEwan in 1947, who wasn’t interested in raising Rose’s children by Wort, who were sent off to relatives and boarding school. The deep secret, that would haunt her all her life, was that Rose had a third child, a boy, by David McEwan, with whom she was having an affair while Wort was in North Africa fighting. The child was born in December 1942, and she placed an ad in the local paper saying: “Wanted, home for a baby boy, age 1 month. Complete surrender.” Two weeks later, with only her sister to steady her, on a train platform, Rose handed over her infant to the first couple to respond to her ad. That child, named David Sharp, was raised by loving parents, and became a brick layer. He was fifty years old when, in 2002, he learned through a free DNA test that he had a brother, Ian McEwan, a writer he had never heard of. They met for the first time at a hotel bar, and discovered that they were “chalk and cheese.”

Literary success came quite quickly, in 1975, with a collection of short stories, First Love, Last Rites. It was described as “shocking and twisted” and won the Somerset Maugham Prize. In lieu of reading lurid and grotesque stories, members read from an essay of McEwan’s called “When I Was a Monster,” in which he described his early romantic sense of self, as well as the voices of his twisted characters.

With his next collection of short stories, and the novel The Cement Garden, McEwan’s achieved a notorious and somewhat unsavory public persona, as well as a solid writerly reputation.

In 1982, he married his girlfriend, Penny Allen, and together they had two sons, William and Greg. Two years later they moved from London to Oxford. But as Penny became more mystical, Ian was growing more rational and intellectual. They divorced in 1995, and there ensued an unpleasant custody battle, when Penny decamped to Brittany with 13-year-old Greg. McEwan ultimately got custody of both boys.

McEwan married Annalena McAfee in 1997. She was a journalist, who wrote for The Financial Times; they met initially when she interviewed him about his children’s book, The Daydreamer. They both came from working-class backgrounds and went on to become major intellectuals. They share their love of music, cooking and hiking—a trait they also share with Diana, our presenter; the couple have homes in London and Buckinghamshire.

Back in the seventies, McEwan regularly lunched with Martin Amis and Christopher Hitchens, and numerous other writers. When he was in hiding, Salman Rushdie stayed for a while with McEwan. Among McEwan’s friends are countless writers, and also scientists in a wide range of disciplines.

He keeps a journal, cares deeply about details, and carefully structures his novels.

Yet with all his writing, McEwan is unusually social. For his sixtieth birthday party at the London Zoo, he invited 200 friends. That’s right, he had 200 friends.

Members read aloud selections from the novels Nutshell, Saturday, and Lesson, and a brief passage from his wonderful children’s book, The Daydreamer. We also read My Purple Scented Novel, a short story that appeared in the New Yorker in 2016. Choosing what to read from such a prolific and fascinating writer was surely challenging.

The meeting adjourned at 3 PM.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner
Recording Secretary

 

Sharon Presents Bernadine Evaristo

Jacquie's Email Hello Ladies! I hope you all had a lovely start to the holiday season. And now we have our singular meeting in December of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson to further our celebration and gratitude for what is good.

B. Evaristo by Hamish Hamilton

Our meeting will be this Wednesday, December 6th at Dianaߴs home for Sharonߴs presentation on Bernadine Evaristo, inspired by her birth yearߴs theme, ‟The English Novel.”

A few weeks back I was so excited when Ann Patchett chose Bernadine Evaristo's book, Girl, Woman, Other as her choice for her weekly book recommendation she calls, "If You Haven't Read It, It's New to You." I loved this book, and, like Ann, was surprised it didnߴt get more attention, especially after winning the Booker. I can't wait to learn more about the author and her work from Sharon.

Carla's Minutes And then we were 12! All but VP/Program Chair Joanna, and Recording Secretary, Christine (down with COVID) gathered at Diana's cozy home for our only December meeting. With ample, delicious and varied snacks provided by our hostess, we began our business meeting at 1 PM. President Constance read the minutes of the previous meeting, followed by a discussion of a still-unresolved gift to the library in Helen Baroliniߴs honor. Her daughters have been asked for their suggestions.

Also to be decided is the format for our future 2023-24 meetings—to mask or not? To offer lunch or continue with generous snacks? Constance will poll members for their preferences. Jackie brought us news of the renamed library Children's Room in honor of recently deceased Ed Young, with plans for neon skylight to be designed by Antonia Young, one of Ed's daughters. Jackie also mentioned that in the future we will be meeting at noon to allow for more time for sharing before the presentation.

To punctuate or not to punctuate? That was one of the questions that arose in Sharon's introduction to her chosen author, Bernardine Evaristo. The first Black woman to win the prestigious Booker prize (in 2019 along with Margaret Atwood), Evaristo was the master of many formats, styles, punctuations and lack of. She wrote poetry, fiction, autobiography, plays, short stories, epistolary, often mixing genres experimentally. She drew on her own life story as one of 8 children, with a black Nigerian father and a white lrish-Catholic mother. She also plumbed African heritage—and her novel Blond Roots is a satire inverting a black-white universe where Blacks are the masters and whites, the slaves. She has eight novels and two books of non-fiction to her credit and has received 76 awards, nominations, fellowships and honors. When she was awarded the Booker Prize at age 60 for her novel, Girl, Woman, Other, Evaristo had been a working author and playwright for decades!

She was born in 1959 and grew up in Eltham, southeast London, always considering herself Black, in spite of a mixture of many roots in her DNA. Her mother was loving and encouraging in contrast to her authoritarian father, with whom she didn't have a good relationship till her 20ߴs. She and her siblings eagerly sought her mother's company and attention. Evaristo wrote that her mother was “calm, amazing, brave, honorable woman” with an “earth mother vibe.”

Evaristo was the only Black student at school, with not much racist backlash. An eager and early reader, Evaristoߴs love of books provided a buffer for sibling competition for the family's TV. We read from Manifesto, her autobiography, which she says is her “tribute to multicultural Britain,” and tells of her family's history and struggle to fit in.

In addition to her writing, theater plays an important role in her life. She got her first degree in drama from the Rose Buford School of Speech and Drama and subsequently a doctorate in creative writing from the University of London. In the 1980ߴs, she and two other women founded Theatre of Black Women, the first of its kind in Britain. And in the 1990's, she organized Britain's first Black British Theatre conference. She has also helped establish a number of awards for Black African poets.

Evaristo's unusual love life has been a source of interest, and in interviews she has detailed her 10 years as a lesbian, going clubbing, participating in marches, part of the Black feminist culture. Some of her relationships were abusive, others not. However, her life changed when she met the man she would marry—David Shannon, a white writer, who was, and is, very supportive of her and her work.

We read Hello Mum, a book Evaristo was asked to write for readers with little book experience, using simple language, presenting a young boyߴs viewpoint in a letter to his Mum, ending in his fatal encounter with a gang. Sad and powerful, it is another experiment of sorts—both language wise and subject wise. Finally, on a more upbeat note, w€ focused on Evaristoߴs Booker Award, Girl, Woman, Other. It draws on her parentsߴ foibles, on complicated feelings of inter-family relationships, on generations with mixed race backgrounds, on how people deal with enormous stresses they encounter. The language is vivid, the characters intimate and alive, there is humor, compassion, all thoroughly absorbing—and not a thought to punctuation for we, the readers!

Respectfully submitted,
Carla, Interim Secretary, again