Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Elizabeth Strout's novels are suffused with the salty tang of Maine

Elizabeth Strout's novels are suffused with the salty tang of Maine  


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LEONARDO CENDARMO, DML -
Elizabeth Strout



A writer can find her voice in all kinds of ways: Elizabeth Strout found hers through stand-up comedy.
She was still a young writer, had published some short fiction but not yet a novel, and was feeling “really, really stuck with my writing,” she said. “I could feel that something was not happening.”
What she needed, she decided, was some sort of intense pressure that would force her to dig deeper, be more honest. So she signed up for a comedy class.
Strout had always been curious about what succeeds and what fails in the intimate, judgmental environment of a comedy club.
“To me, it seemed to come down to whether or not what the comic said was true,” she said. “I wondered what would happen if I put myself in that kind of pressure-cooker situation. What would come out of my mouth?”

For the class’s final exam, she performed at a club in New York. “I ended up making jokes about myself for being such an uptight Puritan-like person from New England. And I thought, ‘Oh, that’s what I am. How funny. I didn’t know it!’ ”
Her comedy gig was a hit — “They asked if I wanted to audition and come back for a regular spot on Tuesday nights.” (She declined.)
More important, the comedy did the trick. Strout settled down and wrote her first novel, the bestselling “Amy and Isabelle,” about an uptight Puritan-like person from New England.
A transplanted Mainer
Strout grew up with one brother in small towns in Maine and New Hampshire. Her parents were Mainers from generations back — plain-spoken, independent and proud, perhaps instantly recognizable to anyone who has read her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, “Olive Kitteridge.”
“You weren’t supposed to just sit around and talk, which I love to do. I was the family embarrassment.”
Strout left Maine after graduating from Bates College in Lewiston, spent a year at Oxford, graduated with a law degree from Syracuse University and then settled down in New York City. “I was always drawn to cities, ever since I found out about them,” she said. “I just thought, ‘Oh, wow, look at all these people!’ ”
For 30 years, she has lived in New York, and at first she thought she had mostly left Maine behind. So it came as something of a surprise when she realized that Maine was what she needed to write about. She and her husband — whom she met in New York, but who is also from Maine — keep a little apartment in Brunswick, Maine, where Strout sometimes goes to write. The apartment is tiny, so she rents a writing room above the town bookstore.
“It took me a while as a writer to realize I’m actually a very white woman from Maine. It’s my culture, what I’m familiar with and have the most complicated feelings about.”
Olive is, of course, an uptight Puritan-like person from New England. (“Blunt, flawed and fascinating,” the Pulitzer committee said.) She marches through the book, the main character of some chapters, a peripheral presence in others. But she steals every scene she’s in.
The form of the book — linked short stories — was deliberate, and unusual for a Pulitzer winner. “I learned very early on that the story is the form,” Strout said. “How you tell the story is the story. Fighting to find the form is one of the largest jobs there is, for me.
“With Olive, I understood that this had to be sort of episodic. Her nature is loud and large. It had to be told in blasts."
Her new novel, “The Burgess Boys,” which is just out in paperback, is more of a traditional narrative. “It’s denser,” Strout said. “It’s not episodic. It holds many years in it — it’s holding half a century of three lives, and a few other lives as well.”
“The Burgess Boys” examines the relationships of three siblings who grew up in a small town in Maine — two brothers who have fled for New York and a sister who has stayed behind. Their lives have been haunted by a childhood accident, when their father left the idling car to fetch the mail and the car rolled over him and killed him.
The book is about guilt and family relationships, but it is also about change and ignorance. The small Maine town where the Burgess family lived has seen an influx of Somali immigrants, and the plot is set in motion when the Burgess sister’s son throws a pig’s head into a mosque during Ramadan. (This anecdote was based on a real event in Lewiston, Maine.)
Strout spent years reading about Somali history and culture before beginning the book. “I read and read and read — probably about seven years. I read about its history and its civil war and then read a tremendous amount about the camps in Kenya. As time went by, I knew of someone in Maine who worked very closely with the Somali culture here, and he allowed me access to some of their lives.”
Strout will meet with members of the Somali community at 4 p.m. April 12 at the African Development Center in Minneapolis, and will be in conversation with author Sarah Stonich at Common Good Books in St. Paul at 4 p.m. April 13. The poster from the Somali event describes the book as “a treasure — a book in which Somalis are treated with and depicted with dignity.”
“The Burgess Boys,” first published in 2013, was widely praised. The New York Times said Strout handles storytelling “with grace, intelligence and low-key humor.” The Star Tribune mentioned the “nuanced tension in the novel,” as well as its “beautiful and detailed writing.”
Strout had already begun work on the book when she won the Pulitzer. “You know, funny thing, that old Pulitzer,” Strout said. “I’m really glad I won it, because it gave me a larger readership. Otherwise, I don’t feel like it’s changed my life at all. People asked me, ‘Aren’t you scared to write another book?’ but I’m scared to write a book every time I do it.”


Authors of "GI Brides" tell the stories of the Englishwomen who came to America after the war

New book tells the true stories of four English women who moved to America after WWII with their GI husbands. 

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"GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic For Love," by Duncan Barrett and Nuala Calvi
So what happened next?
During World War II, tens of thousands of young English women fell in love with American G.I.s. These intrepid women had survived the Blitz, bicycled through rubbled streets to jobs as welders and secretaries, endured rationing and food shortages, hidden in the Underground during bombing raids.
And now that the war was over, they were getting married and leaving everything behind — friends, family, home and homeland — for the glitter of America.
What did they find there?
In their new book, “GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic for Love,” Duncan Barrett and Nuala Calvi tell the stories of four of these women.
Barrett and Calvi — and two of their subjects, Rae Zurovcik and Lyn Patrino — will speak on Saturday at the Merriam Park Library in St. Paul. Calvi’s grandmother, Margaret Boyle, was a war bride, and it was her story that prompted this book.

Q: Your book has been an international bestseller; what do you think is behind its strong reader interest?
Barrett: I think that everyone can relate to the power of young love, and the sacrifices we make for it.
In Britain, there is a lot of nostalgia for the “friendly invasion” of GIs during World War II, and people who were children during the war still recall the American soldiers who would stop in the street to give them chocolate and chewing gum.
I think for those that remember the women who disappeared into the arms of the Americans, there’s a fascination in knowing what happened to them next.

Q: How did you find the 60 women that you interviewed? How did you decide on the four that you profiled?
Calvi: When we started the book, we already knew we were going to tell my grandmother’s story, and we needed to find others that were equally dramatic and meaningful.
We spent three months in 2012 traveling around the U.S. in a little Fiat 500, interviewing war brides wherever we could find them — we covered 13,000 miles and visited 38 states.
We finally narrowed it down to the three other key stories in the book: Lyn, Sylvia and Rae. All of them faced great challenges adapting to life in America, but in their different ways they all found the strength to pull through.

Q: I was struck by the combination of strength and naiveté in these women — strength that allowed them to survive the war and navigate these incredibly difficult marriages, but a naiveté that might have helped land them in those marriages in the first place. Were there other commonalities that you noticed among these women?
Barrett: That’s definitely the case — and even the women we interviewed who turned out to have long and happy marriages always told us that it was more down to luck than judgment.
They had spent so little time with their husbands before they married them, and had never seen them in their home environments — the daughter of one war bride described it to us as “a crapshoot.” And yet, remarkably, the divorce rate among the GI brides was lower than for the general population.
Calvi: There were certainly common themes that emerged from our 60-plus interviews: homesickness, feeling that everyone was staring at them, having to deal with difficult in-laws.
Obviously some women had an easier time than others, but nearly all of them described a moment — usually about three months in — when the reality of their decision really hit them. One woman was riding a bus to the shops when she had a sudden epiphany — this was no holiday, but the rest of her life.

Q: Many of the men in the book seem damaged — either by the war, or by other problems (drinking, gambling). Were any of these women bitter about ending up in a relationship that wasn’t what had been first promised?
Barrett: I think a lot of brides felt that their husbands had not been honest with them before they married — in England, far away from family and their hometowns, the GIs could to a certain extent reinvent themselves. One woman’s husband told her he was “in oil,” but turned out to be a gas-station attendant!
To the English girls, they all seemed smart (their uniforms were much more stylish than the British equivalent) and rich (they earned up to five times the rates of the British Army). Part of the adjustment was getting used to who their husbands really were out of uniform.
Some women, of course, felt lied to, but for most it was more a process of getting to know the other person away from the distorting, heady atmosphere of wartime.

Q: Nuala, one of these war brides — the one with perhaps the most tragic life — was your grandmother. Did that make interviewing her more difficult, or easier? And how did your family react?
Calvi: It was definitely the hardest interview to do, because I felt personally affected by the stories my grandmother was telling me. Some of the things that happened to her were quite upsetting.
I hadn’t realized how alone she had felt as a young woman, and I wished I could reach out to her younger self and be there for her. When she died I made a promise to her that I would write her story one day, and the rest of the family was supportive of me keeping that promise.

Q: After doing so much research, were there conclusions that you drew about romance during a time of war?
Barrett: It was a time of heightened emotions, when women knew that not only were their husbands in mortal danger fighting on the beaches in Normandy, but they themselves could be wiped out at any moment by a German bomb.
Perhaps that atmosphere encouraged people to rush headlong into marriage — after all, you didn’t know whether you would still be here tomorrow. And it was also a very romantic era — the cinemas were filled with sentimental films with happily-ever-after endings, and many of them featured handsome American actors.
Before the war, most of the GI brides had never seen an American before — and I think some of them really did feel that they were marrying Hollywood movie stars.

Q: Did any of these women express regrets that they had followed their hearts?
Calvi: One of the women in the book stuck with her husband until the day he died, despite being unhappy, as she felt she had made a promise that she had to keep. But she admits that if she had her time again she would not have followed her heart. When she dies she wants her ashes to be taken back to England, which she still considers “home.”