What is it about a hypercritical, withholding parent that makes us forever seek their approval? In this moving, multi-layered memoir—part history, part genealogical exploration—Caterina Edwards painstakingly explores her conflicted relationship with her mother Rosa, a woman ruled by a “foolish, frightening anger.”
The roots of Rosa’s discontent lie partially in her displacement. Like thousands of Italians in WW11, she was displaced from her home—in this case Istria, a virtually unknown land that is now part of Croatia. Relocating from its sunny shores to frigid Edmonton, Rosa not only has to cope with the loss of her beloved homeland, but also a loss of status. As a young girl, she worked as maid in upper class homes, and aspired to be like the refined gentlewomen she worked for, the Chatelaine. As Edwards writes:
“I found the prototype in nineteenth-century novels—the lady, modest, sheltered and accomplished, who knew how to run a household, who knew how to command servants, who could entertain dinner guests with a turn at the piano, who could exchange witty conversation with her head bent becomingly over her embroidery ring. A lady fulfilled by her service to her husband, her children, and her aged parents.”
Determined to mold her young daughter into this antiquated ideal, Rosa becomes a domestic dictator, enforcing a set of draconian rules. Nothing Edwards does is good enough. Her cleaning isn’t up to “sparkling standards.” Her fashionable clothes are vulgar. Her bureau drawers are upended if the contents are not neatly folded. All to the cry of Rosa’s favorite favourite insult, “Buona da niente” (Good for nothing!) followed by the scathing, “You’ll never become a woman.”
When Rosa begins to show signs of dementia, Edwards takes on the role of caretaker and makes a room in her house. Rosa’s memory may be going, but her criticisms are as stinging as ever. In one of the book’s most poignant passages, Edwards receives a morsel of praise she has been hungering for— a few months before her death, Rosa grants her the long withheld “thank you”.
At times, Edwards can come across as a little too self-sacrificing. But her poetic prose, along with her ability to weave together disparate narratives, elevates her story far above the clichéd ‘mommy dearest’ confessional into the realm of fine literature. At the end, Edwards has a quiet pride in knowing that “by nature and design” she has “become her own woman”—nothing like her mother. For anyone who longs to understand—and overcome— the effects of a difficult parent, Finding Rosa is an essential read.