Slices of Life

Allegra Goodman’s Intuition was a delightful read. Set in a biomedical laboratory (and there are far too few books in such settings, but I might be biased), it focused on a young woman with a crush on an older postdoc who discovered him faking data. It was original and interesting. I’ve kept an eye out for her books ever since.

Her latest novel, This is Not About Us, starts with a family dealing with a dying mother, Jeanne. Her two sons and their wives come to see her every afternoon. Her three grandchildren come regularly, even though one lives several states away and refuses to fly on ecological grounds.

Jeanne’s sisters are also very present and regular visitors.

Her sisters flinched because she was the youngest, but she looked so old. Jeanne was just seventy-four, and no one ever thought….[..] Helen was eighty, Sylvia seventy-eight. They’d been married first, been mothers first. [..] How could Jeanne be the first to go?

The family dynamics are on display, as at all fraught times in all families. Jeanne is tough and clear-eyed about her children and grandchildren.

Jeanne’s sons looked terrible, both of them. Dan wore wire-rimmed glasses. He was thick in the middle and had hardly any hair. It amused and saddened Jeanne to see him look so much like his late father.

Meanwhile, Jeanne’s two sisters are engaged in perpetual competition. Helen has two daughters but no grandchildren, while Sylvia has only one son and two grandchildren. Nothing is said, but it is obvious both sisters are conscious of this.

Helen bakes late into the night, bringing frozen-thawed brownies, pecan bars, apple cake and cookies to Jeanne’s house. Helen’s baking is awful, and largely remains untouched, while the aromas of Sylvia’s apple cake fill the house and the cake is gone in minutes. This apple cake becomes the source of a deep anger between Helen and Sylvia, to the extent that when Jeanne dies, Helen never speaks to Sylvia again.

One or another of this large family is at the center of each subsequent chapter. There are a lot of them, some more interesting than the others, and despite the family tree at the beginning of the book, I found myself getting confused. Was Zach the grandchild of Jeanne or Sylvia? Was Wendy one of the children or grandchildren, and of which sister? It doesn’t really matter, though, if you see the book as a collection of linked novellas.

Goodman has a lovely way with descriptions, and some may make you chuckle:

Richard was mercenary, feckless, terminally selfish, while Debra was pro bono, nonprofit, real. Her clothes were comfortable. Her hair was proudly gray.

Steve, one of Jeanne’s sons, is an editor, and Goodman takes this opportunity to mourn the decline of publishing houses.

At one time he had acquired books. Composition Across the Curriculum, Writing for Everyone. As senior editor, he had shepherded each manuscript to publication. Now, he thought only of his severance package. Eyes closing, he drifted off, dreaming lightly of new titles. Research Across the Universe. Writing Without Readers.

Steve’s wife Andrea is a freelance college counselor, advising high school students and their parents on the college application process, and sometimes helping to write their essays. Her list of Topics to Avoid made me chuckle (“Death of pet”. “Divorce of parents.” …)

Steve and Andrea’s kid Nate is a laid-back kid, leaving his applications to the very last minute. He has an in-house counselor at his disposal, but avoids any discussions about college applications.

Andrea’s students had real troubles, but they were not homeless, stateless or first-gen anything. They had not walked across Sudan to freedom, or escaped the killing fields, or lived as refugees. Some had parents or grandparents who had done these things. Nate’s own grandfather had been a Holocaust surviver [..] but to state the obvious, Zeyde was not the one applying.

As you see, Goodman writes about her characters with warmth, wit and humor. She has a sensitive touch, nicely attuned to the varying family dynamics.

One chapter, Sheba, is about a woman called Jamie, who works as a dog walker in Boston. The name was unfamiliar, so I spent some time looking back at the family tree, wondering if I had missed a sibling or child somewhere. But no, Jamie is not one of the clan. She goes on to lose one of the dogs she walks, and trauma ensues, but the question of where she fits in loomed over the chapter. (Several chapters later, a small connection is exposed).

Richard and Debra are the strongest characters, and their divorce, relationship with their children, and Richard’s burgeoning new relationship with a much younger woman is well done. Their two daughters are very different, with Lily being shy and awkward except on a dance stage.

Not all the chapters are equally interesting, as is generally the case with such linked stories. It’s a nice read, however, but I’d recommend reading and enjoying the occasional chapter with breaks in between. The chapters mostly stand alone: this is not a grand family saga, but a lovely collection of stories about an extended East Coast Jewish family.

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