Literature |
Short Stories |
Fiction |
Summary
Summary
Short stories that are "achingly true to life when it comes to the many ways mothers and daughters grow together and apart, over and over again" ( O, The Oprah Magazine ).
"Mothers and daughters go at it in the way only mothers and daughters can, with full hearts and claws out, in Natalie Serber's funny, bittersweet collection" of short fiction named a New York Times Notable Book ( Vanity Fair ).
In a battle between a teenager and her mother, wheat bread and plain yogurt become weapons. An aimless college student, married to her much older professor, sneaks cigarettes while caring for their newborn son. On the eve of her husband's fiftieth birthday, a pilfered fifth of rum, an unexpected tattoo, and rogue teenagers leave a woman questioning her place. And in a suite of stories, we follow capricious, ambitious single mother Ruby and her cautious, steadfast daughter, Nora, through their tumultuous life--stray men, stray cats, and psychedelic drugs--in 1970s California.
"The characters are irresistible . . . Serber writes with exquisite patience and sensitivity, and is an expert in the many ways that love throws people together and splits them apart, often at the same time." -- The Wall Street Journal
"From its first page, Serber's debut collection plunges us into the humid heat and lightning of a perfect storm: that of American mothers and daughters struggling for power, love, meaning, and identity. . . . Serber's writing sparkles: practical, strong, brazenly modern, marbled with superb descriptions." -- San Francisco Chronicle
"Mothers and daughters burst from these pages in stories about food, boyfriends, birthdays, husbands and more." -- Houston Chronicle
"In the tradition of Lorrie Moore and Tobias Wolff, Natalie Serber's stories uncover the secret hearts of seemingly ordinary people. Funny, heart-felt, and keenly perceptive, this is a book worth shouting about." --Dan Chaon, author of If I Loved You I Would Tell You This
Author Notes
Natalie Serber received an MFA from Warren Wilson College. Her work has appeared in The Bellingham Review and Gulf Coast , among others, and her awards include the Tobias Wolff Award. She teaches writing at various universities and lives with her family in Portland, Oregon.
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Serber's intense debut collection would have been better had every story, rather than most of them, traced Ruby Hargrove's evolution from daughter to mother, and her own daughter Nora's reactions to her questionable parenting. After an uneven opening story about a mother and her teenager daughter's eating disorder, we come to "Ruby Jewel," about a college girl reluctantly having drinks with her philandering, alcoholic father. As the plot progresses, Ruby gets pregnant, tries to make it work with the baby's father, and is finally abandoned when she changes her mind about adoption. So begins Ruby and Nora's life together, a blur of constant moving and a revolving door of men. Serber deftly puts the spotlight on key moments of Nora's upbringing: an adopted stray cat is thrown out for ruining Ruby's things; Nora's tough schoolgirl friends turn to Ruby for help ; Ruby flirts with Nora's older boyfriend. Serber's adroit turns of phrase and the short story format enhance the emotional intensity of familiar scenarios while keeping them from seeming rote, but the form has its pitfalls. An engaging story about a mother comforting an orphaned baby on a plane splits the book down the middle, and another stand-alone story ends it. Despite those stories' clear thematic ties to the collection as a whole, readers will miss Ruby and Nora. (June 26) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Serber's stellar first collection packs an emotional wallop right from the start, with the title tale. Told from the point of view of the mother of an anorexic daughter and complete with edgy photographs of mannequins wearing ripped, size-00 jeans, Shout Her Lovely Name is a sharp, somber, and sparkling commentary on the emotional toll such behavior exacts. The final story, Developmental Blah Blah Blah, is a candid look at 50-year-old Cassie's crisis of self-doubt relative to her teenage children's disrespect. Bracketed between the two, the stories of gutsy, blowsy, often misguided Ruby Hargrove and her achingly vulnerable daughter, Nora, form the emotional core of Serber's sublime exploration of the by turns subtle and overtly manipulative psychological tug-of-war between a mother and daughter. First met as a burgeoning college student on the cusp of abandoning her two-bit town and clinging family, Ruby ultimately evolves from a petrified, pregnant, unmarried teenager to an empowered feminist high-school teacher, a remarkable transformation marred by Nora's arrested development in her mother's shadow. As provocative as it is poignant, Serber's searingly honest depiction of the complex, contentious, and confusing bonds at the heart of all families heralds an exceptional new talent.--Haggas, Carol Copyright 2010 Booklist
Library Journal Review
With three exceptions, all 11 stories in Serber's debut collection follow single mother Ruby and her daughter, Nora, through the 1960s to the 1980s, from Ruby's unplanned pregnancy as a college student in Florida, to their life together in New York and Los Angeles, to Nora's own college years in California. Ruby's last-minute decision not to give up her baby for adoption causes her glamorous boyfriend to leave her, and Ruby embarks on a somewhat lonely, unstable existence with many lovers but few long-term relationships. Nora adores her mother, though Ruby's attention-seeking behavior leads to societal disapproval in Nora's early years and outright jealousy and competitiveness as Nora comes into her own. The title comes from the unrelated (and unforgettable) opening story, told from the perspective of the mother of an anorexic teen whose disordered thinking and casual cruelty tear her family apart. Though the three un-related stories are excellent, it would have made more sense to present a coherent collection revolving around Ruby and Nora or to have varied the collection entirely. VERDICT Overall, an impressive debut, with insightful, sometimes painful truths about the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters.-Lauren Gilbert, Sachem P.L., Holbrook, NY (c) Copyright 2012. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
May In the beginning, don't talk to your daughter, because anything you say she will refute. Notice that she no longer eats cheese. Yes, cheese: an entire food category goes missing from her diet. She claims cheese is disgusting and that, hello? she has always hated it. Think to yourself . . . Okay, no feta, no Gouda -- that's a unique and painless path to individuation; she's not piercing, tattooing, or huffing. Cheese isn't crucial. The less said about cheese the better, though honestly you do remember watching her enjoy Brie on a baguette Friday evenings when the neighbors came over and there was laughter in the house. Then baguettes go too. "White flour isn't healthy," she says. She claims to be so much happier now that she's healthier, now that she doesn't eat cheese, pasta, cookies, meat, peanut butter, avocados, and milk. She tells you all this without smiling. Standing before the open refrigerator like an anthropologist studying the customs of a quaint and backward civilization, she doesn't appear happier. When she steps away with only a wedge of yellow bell pepper, say, "Are you sure that's all you want? What about your bones? Your body is growing, now's the time to load up on calcium so you don't end up a lonely old hunchback sweeping the sidewalk in front of your cottage." Bend over your pretend broom, nod your head, and crook a finger at her. "Nibble, nibble like a mouse, who is nibbling on my house?" cried the old witch. "Oh, dear Gretel, come in. There is nothing to be frightened of. Come in." She took Gretel by the hand and led her into her little house. Then good food was set before Gretel, milk and avocado, peanut butter, meat, cookies, pasta, and cheese. Your daughter stares up at the kitchen ceiling, her look a stew of disdain and forbearance. "Just so you know, Mom, you're so not the smartest person in the room." She nibbles her pepper wedge, and you hope none of it gets stuck between her teeth or she will miss half her meal. Alone at night, start to Google eating disorder three times. When you finally press enter, you are astonished to see that there are 7,800,000 pages of resources, with headings like Psych Central, Body Distortion, ED Index, Recovery Blog, Celebrities with Anorexia, Alliance for Hope, DSM-IV . Realize an expert is needed and take your daughter to a dietitian. In the elevator on the way up, she stands as far away from you as she possibly can. Her hair, the color of dead grass, hangs over her fierce eyes. "In case you're wondering, I hate you." Remember your daughter is in there somewhere. This dietitian, the first of three -- recommended by a childless, forty-something friend who sought help in order to lose belly fat -- looks at your daughter and sees one of her usual clients. She recommends fourteen hundred calories a day, nonfat dairy, one slice of bread, just one tablespoon of olive oil on salad greens. You didn't know -- you thought you were doing the right thing, and you are now relegated to the dunce corner forever by your daughter who is thin as she's always wanted to be. The fourteen-year-old part of you -- the Teen magazine-subscribing part of you that bleached your dark hair orange with Super Sun-In and hated, absolutely hated, your thighs; the part that sometimes used to eat nothing but a bagel all day so if anyone asked you what you ate, you could answer, A bagel, and feel strong -- that part of you thinks your daughter looks good. Your daughter is nearly as thin as a big-eyed Keane girl, as thin as the seventh-grade girls who drift along the halls of her middle school, their binders pressed to their collarbones, their coveted low-rise, destroyed-denim, skinny-fit, size-double-zero jeans grazing their jutting hipbones. She is as thin as her friends who brag about being stuffed after their one-carrot lunches. "It's crazy, Mom. I'm worried about Beth, Sara, McKenzie, Claire . . ." she says, waving her slice of yellow bell pepper in the air. Google eating disorders again. This time click on the link understandingEDs.com. July Don't talk to your daughter about food, though this is all she will want to talk to you about. Spaghetti with clam sauce sounds amazing, she'll say, flipping through Gourmet magazine, but when you prepare it, along with a batch of brownies, hoping she'll eat, she'll claim she's always detested it. She'll call you an idiot for cooking shit-food you know she loathes. "Guess what, Mom," she will say with her new vitriol, "I never want to be a chubby-stupid-no-life-fucking-bitch-loser like you." After you slap her, don't cry. Hold your offending palm against your own cheek in a melodramatic gesture of shame and horror that you think you really mean. Feel no satisfaction. When she calls you abusive and threatens to phone child protective services, resist handing her the phone with a wry I dare you smile. Try not to scream back at her. Don't ask her what the hell self-starvation is if not abuse. Be humiliated and embarrassed, but don't make yourself any promises about never stooping that low again. Remind your daughter that spaghetti with clam sauce and brownies was the exact meal she requested for her twelfth birthday, and then quickly leave the room. Lovely's Twelfth-Birthday Brownies 2 sticks unsalted butter 4 ounces best-quality unsweetened chocolate 2 cups sugar 4 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 cup flour 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup fresh raspberries Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter large baking pan. Melt together butter and chocolate over a very, very low flame or, better yet, in a double boiler. Watch and stir constantly to prevent burning. Turn off heat. Add sugar and stir until granules dissolve. Stir in eggs, one at a time, until fully incorporated and the batter shines. Blend in vanilla; fold in the flour and salt until just mixed. Add raspberries. Bake for 30 minutes. The center will be gooey; the edges will have begun to pull away from the sides of the pan. Try your best to wait until the brownies cool before you slice them. Enjoy! Later, after you have eaten half the brownies and picked at the crumbling bits stuck to the pan, apologize to your daughter. She will tell you she didn't mean it when she called you chubby. Hug her and feel as if you're clutching a bag of hammers to your chest. Indications of anorexia nervosa are an obsession with food and an absolute refusal to maintain normal body weight. One of the most frightening aspects of the disorder is that people with anorexia nervosa continue to think they look fat even when they are wasting away. Their nails and hair become brittle, and their skin may become dry and yellow. Prepare meals you hope she will eat: buckwheat noodles with shrimp, grilled salmon and quinoa, baked chicken with bulgur, omelets without cheese. When you melt butter in the pan or put olive oil on the salad, try not to let her see. Try to cook when she is away from the kitchen, though suddenly it is her favorite room, the cookbooks her new library. Feel as if you always have a sharp-beaked raven on your shoulder, watching, pecking, deciding not to eat, angry at food, and terribly angry at you. Begin to have heated, whispered conversations with your husband -- in closets, in the pantry, in bed at night. He wants to sneak cream into the milk carton. He wants to put melted butter in her yogurt. He wants to nourish his little girl. He is terrified. You are angry, resentful, and confused. You want help. You are terrified. "She's mean because she's starving," he says. "How you feel doesn't matter." "Yes, but I have to live in this house too." "How you feel doesn't matter." "Yes, but she used to love me." "This isn't about you." Later -- after you once again do not have sex -- get out of bed, close the bathroom door behind you, close the shower door behind you as well, then cry into a towel for as long as you like. Ask yourself, Is this about me? September Take your daughter to the doctor. Learn about orthostatic blood pressure and body mass index. Learn that she's had dizzy spells, that she hasn't had her period for four months. Worry terribly. Feel like a failure: like a chubby-stupid-no-life-fucking-bitch-loser. When the pregnant doctor tells your daughter that she needs to gain five pounds, your daughter starts to cry and then to scream that none of you people live in her body, you people have no idea what she needs, you people are rude and she will only listen to herself. You people (you and the doctor and the nurse) huddle together and listen. You don't want to be one of you people, you want to be hugging your frightened, hostile daughter, who sits alone on the examination table. But she won't let you. The doctor gives her a week to gain two pounds and find a therapist or she will be referred to an eating-disorder clinic. You want your daughter to succeed. You want her to stay with you at home, to stay in school, to make new friends, to laugh, to answer her body when she feels hunger. You watch your daughter watch the pregnant doctor squeezing between the cabinet and the examination table and you know exactly what your daughter is thinking -- Fat, fat, fat. Before you leave, the doctor pulls you aside and tells you that your daughter suffers from "disordered eating." She tells you to assemble a treatment team: doctor, therapist, nutritionist, family therapist. "You'll need support; you'll need strategies." You've never been on a team before. Ask the obvious question: "Eating disorder versus disordered eating? What's the difference?" Get no answer. Try to go easy on yourself. Knowledge about the causes of anorexia nervosa are not fully known and may vary. In an attempt to understand and uncover its origins, scientists have studied the personalities, genetics, environments, and biochemistry of people with these illnesses. Certain common personality traits in persons with anorexia nervosa are low self-esteem, social isolation (which usually occurs after the behavior associated with anorexia nervosa begins), and perfectionism. These people tend to be good students and excellent athletes. It does seem clear (although this may not be recognized by the patient), that focusing on weight loss and food allows the person to ignore problems that are too painful or seem irresolvable. Remember, you were always there to listen to painful problems, to help. You kept your house purged of fashion magazines, quit buying the telephone-book-size September Vogue as soon as you gave birth to her. Only glanced at People in the dentist's office. So why? How? How did this happen to your family? Karen Carpenter, Mary-Kate Olsen, Oprah Winfrey, Anne Sexton, Paula Abdul, Sylvia Plath, Princess Diana, Jane Fonda, Audrey Hepburn, Margaux Hemingway, Sally Field, Anna Freud, Elton John, Richard Simmons, Franz Kafka, for Christ's sake You should never have paid Cinderella to enchant the girls at her fourth-birthday party. Cringe as you remember the shimmering blue acetate gown and the circle of mesmerized girls at Cinderella's knees, their eyes softly closed, tender mouths slackened to moist Os. Cinderella hummed Cinderella's love song; she caked iridescent blue eye shadow on each girl while they all fell in love with her and her particular fantasy. Know in your heart that even though you canceled cable and forbade Barbie to cross your threshold, you are responsible. You have failed her. After the doctor's appointment, drive to your daughter's favorite Thai restaurant while she weeps beside you and tells you she never imagined she'd be a person with an eating disorder. "If this could happen to me, anything can happen to anyone." Tell her, "Your light will shine. Live strong. We will come through this." Vague affirmations are suddenly your specialty. "I'm scared," she tells you. For the first time in months, you are not scared. You are calm. Your daughter seems pliable, reachable. During the entire car ride, the search for a parking space, and the walk into the restaurant you are filled with hope. And then you are seated for lunch and she studies the menu for eleven minutes, finally ordering only a green papaya salad. Hope flees and this is the moment you begin to eat like a role model. You too order a salad; you also order pho and salmon and custard and tea. Eat slowly, with false joy and frivolity. Show her how much fun eating can be! Look at me, ha-ha, dangling rice noodles from my chopsticks, tilting my head to get it all in my mouth. Yum! Delicious! Wow! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha Excerpted from Shout Her Lovely Name by Natalie Serber All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.