St. Martin’s Press, $23.95
Messing Things Up, as Only Families Can
With all the good books out there waiting to be read, why would somebody from Maine want to read a book about a Jewish family in 1950s Chicago? Because Daniela Kuper’s Hunger and Thirst is about a lot more than just the Trout family, it’s about family with the attendant problems, it’s about love, it’s about growing up and it’s about a period in time.
There are “okay” books: the writing is okay, but not inspired; the characters are okay, but not memorable. You read the book and go on to another, and that’s that. Then there are books where the characters and situations reach out and grab you and won’t let go. When I come across such a book, I am loath to finish it. I don’t want to leave those characters, that story.
I can put off finishing a really good book for days. In this case, not only did I put off finishing Hunger and Thirst, but after finally reading the last page, I found myself reaching for a Saul Bellow book I hadn’t yet read in order to hang on to that Jewish-Chicago-fifties atmosphere. That’s pretty high praise, especially when you consider this is Kuper’s first novel.
And that first novel didn’t come easily. Writing fiction is Kuper’s second career. (Her first was in advertising and marketing. She owned her own advertising agency in Boulder, where she lived for many years and raised her two children. She supports herself as a writer by freelancing in her old field.) Writing the first draft of Hunger and Thirst took Kuper three and one-half years. Although she sold that first draft to a publisher, it took five more years of work to reach publication. She credits Maine for allowing her to complete the book.
“I couldn’t finish the book till I came to Maine,” she said as we sat before the wood stove in her farmhouse on the year’s first snowy day. “I did the last four years of hard writing here.”
Asked what it was about Maine that inspired her, Kuper said, “It was the solitude, the beauty, the deep quiet of winter, and the extraordinary community, support, and faithfulness of my writer’s group.” She paused, then added, “And art is valued here in a way it isn’t in other places.”
What brought Kuper to Maine was a desire to get away and write. “Let’s face it,” she said, “there are not a lot of distractions in Maine. Maine has been my muse.”
It’s kind of odd to think of Maine as a muse for writing about a Jewish family in Chicago, but more than one writer has had to get away from home to write about it. In Kuper’s case, moving far enough away to get that clear image has resulted in an astonishing level of detail.
The story revolves around the Trout family. Irwinna, the wife and mother, has looks and style, and can make any girl or woman look better with the right outfit and accessories. Buddy, the husband and father, sees the potential in Irwinna’s beauty and talent, marries her, and starts Buddy’s Frock Shop, selling expensive designer clothes to women who can’t afford them. Joan, Irwinna and Buddy’s only child, a 12-year-old in the story, is the narrator and the character that came to Kuper and nagged at her until she wrote her a book.
The Trouts live in an apartment under the constant view of a Greek Chorus of four women who live in the building.
Kuper writes, “The women-in-the-building detested Mama as much as they needed her. She wore a different dress every day, shoes and cigarettes to match. She was their bone spur, their magazine. Who else told them shoulder pads were a mistake? Who painted their eyebrows on so realistically? Who loaned them her own personal jewelry and sprayed Chanel on their necks and threw in nylon stockings for free and let them pay off a dress a buck a week? And who in this damn godforsaken world gave one shit how they looked from the rear? Buddy’s Frock Shop was their right and Mama their ritual.”
Joan’s father, Buddy, is an unusual character and a good match for Irwinna. At one point he tries to teach Joan the ways of the world by giving her a Woolworth’s diamond ring, then smashing it to powder, and mortifies her by lying down on the sidewalk demonstrating a woman in labor. Everyone wants to make Joan ready for adulthood, for life, and in so doing, like so many families they mess things up as only families can.
The beginning of the book is the end of the story.
“The mother returned thirty years later like any visitor with a Sunday to kill, ringing the bell, offering up chocolate, gauging the depth of her reception.
“The daughter, thinking it was Amway or religion, half shut the door when she noticed that preposterous yellow diamond, a brain caged in platinum. The smear of lipstick on a tooth, the bloodshined fingernails, the garnet watch with the silver safety chain, the same watch her father bought after one of his lousy nights.
“The black wig had hardened into pagette points, the long neck pulsed. Irwinna was alive, her crystal necklace throwing off the green in her outfit, the blue in her skin, the head tilted down and to the right like this time she’d listen as long as it took.”
Now that Hunger and Thirst has been published, Kuper is starting to teach and is getting speaking engagements. Her book has been nominated for a number of awards, and she is working on a new novel, the theme of which is faith in the sense of what it is that keeps us going. I look forward to reading it!
To see a calendar of Kuper’s lectures and readings or to book one, go to www.danielakuper.com.
Sandra Dinsmore is a regular contributor to Working Waterfront.