A group of America's celebrated literary women have come together to tackle a topic close to their Mom. These highly personal yet often universal stories offer windows into those influential mother-daughter moments that have forever shaped the lives and perspectives of the writers, powerful women—authors, spokespeople, scholars, teachers, and some mothers themselves.
Jonis Agee's mother haunts her daughter's plumbing. Tai Coleman's mother struggled to raise five children on her own wits and a single pay check. Heid Erdrich's mother showed her daughter both the falsity and the truth in the cliché of the "Indian Princess." Sheila O'Connor's mother, who ran a road construction company, was not like other mothers. Ka Vang's mother dodged the hand grenades that her husband's first wife threw on her wedding day. Morgan Grayce Willow's mother drove home late at night after selling cosmetics to farm wives as her daughter rode shotgun.
In true tales of startling candor and rich insight, these and many other talented writers reflect on the women who raised them, revealing hard work and hardship, successes and failures, love and anger—mothers and daughters.
Jonis Agee, Elizabeth Jarret Andrew, Sandra Benitez, Barrie Jean Borich, Taiyon Coleman, Heid Erdrich, Diane Glancy, Jan Zita Grover, Denise Low, Alison McGhee, Sheila O'Connor, Shannon Olson, Carrie Pomeroy, Susan Power, Sun Yung Shin, Faith Sullivan, Ann Ursu, Ka Vang, Wang Ping, Susan Steger Welsh, Morgan Grayce Willow.
Jonis owns twenty pairs of cowboy boots, some of them works of art, loves the open road, and believes that ecstasy and hard work are the basic ingredients of life and writing.
Born in Omaha, Nebraska, she grew up in Nebraska and Missouri, places where many of her stories and novels are set. She was educated at The University of Iowa (BA) and The State University of New York at Binghamton (MA, PhD). She is Adele Hall Professor of English at The University of Nebraska — Lincoln, where she teaches creative writing and twentieth-century fiction.
Awards include three books chosen as New York Times Notable Books, a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, Nebraska Book Award, Nebraska Arts Council Merit Award, Minnesota State Arts Board Fellowship in Fiction, Loft McKnight Award of Distinction, and Editor's Choice Award from Foreword Magazine.
Ever read a book and wonder about the writer, what made them capable? Ever wish you could peek at the household of a writer and get in on the family fights, the favorite foods, the shocking secrets, the comfortingly familiar, the strange and curious, the ups and downs, the dizzying array of emotions and behaviors and freak occurrence and surprise guests and variety acts all appearing on the Mom Show? Consider this your invite, your unexpected prize. This anthology is so well-conceived (pun intended) and well-constructed (brick house!) that you will marvel at your own stupidity if you almost didn’t read it. Not only will you meet the mothers of twenty-one fabulous writers and get TMI or not enough, you will have something credible with which to frame your own reference to the M and illuminate your thoughts. True, just a couple of these essays strain the cred for a sec with fictional techniques and dialog, otherwise the whole experience of this read is authentic, compelling, intelligent and capable of surprise.
The mother of Hmong refugee Ka Vang is greeted by exploding grenades on her wedding day, hurled by the jealous first wife of her polygamist bridegroom. “She had her weapons, her sons, the most prized possession in a Hmong family.” This character was forged by heavy fire, her mother having only daughters. Another writer visits the deathbed of her estranged mother who leaves her with the last words, “I guess, if you want to think you’re a lesbian, that’s okay,” and then “Have a nice life.” The mother of Faith Sullivan ditched her at Grandma’s where she was raised by ghosts. Yet how comforting they are, how nurturing, how encouraging and friendly. I, too, have a green-painted cupboard, called a Hoosier, to store mysterious Mason jars of dried roots and leaves and seeds. “Today, Grandma would be called an herbalist. In 1600, she’d have been a witch.” Her friends and relatives The Girls are old and man-less, sensible and frugal and off their rockers, too. “ This the kind of company I’d aspire to. “Never was a family so crammed with saints, sinners, eccentrics, whimsicals, horse thieves, and undiscovered geniuses.” Bet ya.
Other portraits resonate with familiar scenes and struggles and place-culture, such as the searingly poetic Dakota Woman rendered by Susan Power with tragedy and nobility and subtle humor. Oddly enough my own mother also appears in an Indian princess costume with headband and braids, but her photo is something from the basement of the county historical museum that has comical and “Oh no, you found it” connotations. Heid Erdrich then explains why there are no Indian princesses anyhow.
While the familiar can inform and enrich our view of motherhood and its complicated questions and epiphanies, the strange and alien household cultures which I encountered in this book did the same making possible connections to the greater world, starting with the foreign land of Minnesota which we here in “The Dakotas” (Minnesotans often refer to even a very specific place as such) often consider to be Back East on the other side of the Red. The diversity of ethnic and other influences is done no mean justice in these writings, ably reflecting that there is more than blonde hair and blue eyes and lefse and lutefisk going on over there. The literary Mecca of the Twin Cities is nicely represented here in this collection.
Gentle Reader, this is a box of dark chocolates and you’ll find no frothy filling. It does contain some nuts. But go ahead and devour the whole she-bang, it is good for you!
What a surprising anthology! By turns wrenching, funny, poignant, angry, and nostalgic--this collection defies easy typecasting. What's more, if you like memoir but have decided to bypass this simply out of distaste for mother- and parenthood-lit you're going to miss out on some fantastic creative nonfiction. And there wasn't a clinker in the bunch--no mean feat when assembling an anthology. The authors and editor Kathryn Kysar are entirely deserving of all the ink spilled in the cause of this diverse, revealing collection of essays. It's just wonderful.
I just finished reading this book to prepare for an event I'm working on for Midwest Health Center for Women on May 2nd. The event will be featuring the editor, Kathryn Kysar as our guest speaker and will also feature two of the book's contributing writers, Ka Vang and Heid E. Estrich who will read excerpts from their own essays. It looks like it will be a facinating event. If you are interested in attending, please e-mail me at tmtesky@hotmail.com and I'll send you more details.
About the book: The book is an anthology highlighting short stories from 21 contributing writers (most with Minnesota ties)--all sharing stories about their mother. It's heart-wrenching, insipring, real, and hopeful with many insights on what we all know can be complicated--our own relationship with our mother. I highly recommend reading it and then purchasing a copy for your own mother (that's my plan).
The stories reflect the variety of feelings and experiences women have regarding their mothers. Some relationships are wonderful and all are complicated by the intensity of feelings. When we are young we don't see our mothers as flawed human beings so we either strive to gain their approval or we fight against them. As we grow older we begin to learn to accept our mothers as they are and not what we wish they were. In the final analysis, hopefully, we become the person we choose to be, not the reflection of what we think our mothers want to be. I think most mothers want their daughter to be a strong independent woman. I enjoyed the Minnesota connection in many of the stories.
This is a series of essays by women writers, many of whom have MN connections. I have not read them all, but am putting it away for now. Will pick it back up periodically. That's one thing I love about collections of short pieces.
The first essay I read in this book was one by Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, who taught a writing class I took in 2007. The essay blew me away. She is an amazing writer.
I loved the concept of this book - the execution, however, falls a little short - I found most of these essays to be engaging well-written, wrenchingly TRUE portraits of the complex mother-daughter relationship.
LOOOVED this book!!! It was a recommendation by my daughter Becca; she said it reminded her of ME. I can see what she meant. I really connected with this book.
I loved this collection for the essays, but also for what it demonstrates about the form (so elastic!) and what it tells us about the countless ways we experience loss and weave it into ourselves. The authors int he anthology show there are countless ways to write devastating essays about our mothers and how they shape us. My favorite essay was the opening one, which included a paragraph that stuck with me throughout the book. Jonis Agee writes in Storm Warnings: "Spilled Salt, she'd throw a pinch over her left shoulder. Don't kill spiders in the house, she'd warn. Or did I read that someplace, a book on Ozarks witchcraft, magic and superstition, perhaps. Your mother has healing hands, Father said the last year of his life. We have the sight, my brother said before he died. You're all witches, more than one of my husbands has declared. We know things, my sisters assure me, we know the future. No, sometimes we know the future, I caution. My dead sister knew who was calling before she picked up the phone. I know when a person is moving toward me across time and place. I think of them and they come back into my life. What does all this mean, I ask my mother. What have you done to us?" Most of the essays are about what we make of our mothers and ourselves once they are gone. Sandra Benitez in My Mother's Heart says: "The loss of a mother is a partial loss of the self. It was for me. Mami's death, years later, in 1999, cast me adrift, for she took with her her memory, both spoken and untold. She took all she might have divulged about herself, about me, for from the moment she passed, from the moment I watched her face soften and ease as she took death's hand, as she grasped her Susanita's, a myriad of questions I might have asked descended on me like a sudden sleeve of rain. With her went all that possibility." There's a beautiful short poem by Nayyirah Waheed. She says, "My mother was my first country." Indeed. This anthology is about that country.