A tender memoir about caring for her aging parents from an author better known for fiery feminism (Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen, 1972, etc.). Shulman’s most recent book, Drinking the Rain (1995), reflected on the rewards of retreat to an island in Maine. This narrative takes her back to Cleveland, where she left her family more than 40 years ago to begin a fight for independence that would take her through three husbands and two children of her own. But as Shulman makes clear, her flight was not away from an unhappy childhood——I had always felt cherished by my parents,” she says—but from ties so strong that she had to physically remove herself in order to separate from them. Her brother’s death and her mother’s subsequent deterioration brought the author home, where she found satisfaction in daughterly duties. Her parents finally ensconced in a senior residence, Shulman began to probe the past, aware that her father had been impotent, her mother had taken lovers, her brother had resented her (she never does get a handle on that uncertain relationship). But her lawyer father had also earned a place in a historical-society archive for his labor arbitration decisions; her mother had made herself into “an eight-course banquet” of family, music, and travel and was an early collector of artists like Stella, de Kooning, Nevelson, and more. The author alternates dips into her childhood with stories of time spent with her parents in the nursing home, where she redeems whatever pain may have gone before by accepting and understanding who they have become: incontinent, sometimes incoherent, often unpredictable, but still the remarkable individuals who shaped her. Loving and accurate description of the author’s rollover from dependent child to caretaker child, and of the parents who continued to fashion themselves in old age as they had throughout their lives. (b&w photos)
Pub Date: April 2, 1999
ISBN: 0-8052-4161-2
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Schocken
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1999
The author's youthfulness helps to assure the inevitable comparison with the Anne Frank diary although over and above the...
Elie Wiesel spent his early years in a small Transylvanian town as one of four children.
He was the only one of the family to survive what Francois Maurois, in his introduction, calls the "human holocaust" of the persecution of the Jews, which began with the restrictions, the singularization of the yellow star, the enclosure within the ghetto, and went on to the mass deportations to the ovens of Auschwitz and Buchenwald. There are unforgettable and horrifying scenes here in this spare and sombre memoir of this experience of the hanging of a child, of his first farewell with his father who leaves him an inheritance of a knife and a spoon, and of his last goodbye at Buchenwald his father's corpse is already cold let alone the long months of survival under unconscionable conditions.
Pub Date: Jan. 16, 2006
ISBN: 0374500010
Page Count: 120
Publisher: Hill & Wang
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2006
A horde-pleaser, well-written and full of surprises.
“The Mongols swept across the globe as conquerors,” writes the appreciative pop anthropologist-historian Weatherford (The History of Money, 1997, etc.), “but also as civilization’s unrivaled cultural carriers.”
No business-secrets fluffery here, though Weatherford does credit Genghis Khan and company for seeking “not merely to conquer the world but to impose a global order based on free trade, a single international law, and a universal alphabet with which to write all the languages of the world.” Not that the world was necessarily appreciative: the Mongols were renowned for, well, intemperance in war and peace, even if Weatherford does go rather lightly on the atrocities-and-butchery front. Instead, he accentuates the positive changes the Mongols, led by a visionary Genghis Khan, brought to the vast territories they conquered, if ever so briefly: the use of carpets, noodles, tea, playing cards, lemons, carrots, fabrics, and even a few words, including the cheer hurray. (Oh, yes, and flame throwers, too.) Why, then, has history remembered Genghis and his comrades so ungenerously? Whereas Geoffrey Chaucer considered him “so excellent a lord in all things,” Genghis is a byword for all that is savage and terrible; the word “Mongol” figures, thanks to the pseudoscientific racism of the 19th century, as the root of “mongoloid,” a condition attributed to genetic throwbacks to seed sown by Mongol invaders during their decades of ravaging Europe. (Bad science, that, but Dr. Down’s son himself argued that imbeciles “derived from an earlier form of the Mongol stock and should be considered more ‘pre-human, rather than human.’ ”) Weatherford’s lively analysis restores the Mongols’ reputation, and it takes some wonderful learned detours—into, for instance, the history of the so-called Secret History of the Mongols, which the Nazis raced to translate in the hope that it would help them conquer Russia, as only the Mongols had succeeded in doing.
A horde-pleaser, well-written and full of surprises.Pub Date: March 2, 2004
ISBN: 0-609-61062-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2003
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