Category Archives: Cultural Politics

Debut Books by Writers Over 40

Time for a 2013 update!

Originally, I tried to resist writing this—especially after my plea against categorizing authors.  Plus, so many of us hide our age in this world of never-get-old, unearthing this information, even in our Googlized world, was difficult.

But when , along with the plethora of lists of writers under 40, I was faced with the declaration that, as headlined in a Guardian UK article about writers, ‘Let’s Face It, After 40 You’re Past It.”

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Also posted in My Opinionated Self, Writing | Tagged , , , | 49 Comments

Why Book Review Equality Matters

The first time I looked for a job, Help Wanted was divided into three sections: Men, Women, and General. If memory serves me (I doubt it) men’s jobs were the professional ones, women’s were the handmaiden ones, and general included dishwashers and drivers.

Trust me, the career paths were separate and not equal.

I remembered those categories while writing this post (which I wish I wasn’t writing) when I came across the terms microinequity and micro-affirmation, first coined by Mary Rowe, who defined micro-inequities as “apparently small events which are often ephemeral and hard-to-prove, events which are covert, often unintentional, frequently unrecognized by the perpetrator, which occur wherever people are perceived to be ‘different.’”

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Also posted in Books, My Opinionated Self | 5 Comments

Romantic or Realistic: The Bad Boy Quiz

73103865Awhile ago I wrote my warning about falling for the ‘bad boy.’ Now it’s time to figure out if you have one lying next to you. And what kind. You may think you have a Marlboro Man while in truth you’re harboring a Hannibal Lector.

Take a look below. Which one is your bad boy?

The Romantic Lead: Rhett Butler. Heart of gold hiding inside a scallywag. Has tons of money. Always shows up to rescue you. Loves children. Once committed to you, he’ll sweep you away to a fully staffed mansion and the best big O you’ve ever had.

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Also posted in Domestic Violence, Love & Marriage | Tagged | 1 Comment

Is Santa This Jewish Girl’s Robert Redford?

There are so many Jewish people who grow up warm and secure in their faith, those for whom the eight days of Hanukah don’t have to compete with Christmas: Jewish nurses and firefighters who take Christmas Eve shifts to ensure that their Christian brethren are home for the holidays. These are the lucky Jews with traditions of Chinese food and a movie on Christmas.

I wasn’t one of them.

I grew up with my nose pressed right up to the glass.  Like any other bird, blind to the barrier between the glowing scene inside and me, I banged and banged until my nose almost broke.

There were no Hanukah traditions in my house. (I get teary and jealous when I hear Adam Sandler sing his Chanakuh song.) Naturally I longed for the sparkles of Christmas. One year my sister and I even hung stockings. What were we thinking? That the keys to the kingdom lay in our old limp socks? Mom was out on a date; we stayed up as late as possible, until, exhausted, we went to bed giddy with the prospect of what would be spilling out the tops of those socks. We didn’t know what Christmas stockings were supposed to hold, but boy, we knew it must be pretty darn special for the entire world to talk about it—Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas,

(I’m sure my poor mother either didn’t notice the socks, or cursed Jill and I for leaving our clothes all over.)

As a teen, I went out with my similarly disposed Jewish friend, Debbie, bought a tiny Charlie Brown-pathetic tree on

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Also posted in My Life | Tagged | 22 Comments

The Day Princess Kate Helped Me Wear Sheer Pantyhose

I belong to what might be one of the longest running women’s groups in the country. We began during the era of consciousness-raising (mothers in our early 20s, we discussed nursing bras as much as bralessness) and supported each other through divorce, death, and contemplations of cosmetic surgery. (So far it’s a no.)

We have eternal loyalty and ferocious debates.

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A New-Fashioned Thanksgiving: When Google Saved Our Stuffing

I don’t care how many writers shed tears for the good old days, before we were so connected, before life sped before our tapping fingers: Web, thee did save me.

My sister and I may not have grown up rife with traditions (when Jill and I hung our socks on Christmas eve, the flat unfilled sight of them the next morning reminded us that Santa didn’t stop for little Jewish girls) but darn it, we had the stuffing handed down from Grandma Millie. If we were on death row, our last meal would be the stuffing.

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Also posted in Family, My Life | 1 Comment

When Virtual Friends Become Real

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What happens when you get together with your ‘twitter’ friends? The friends who engender strange reactions when you mention them—especially in your husband, who looks at you as though, perhaps, he married . . . um, a virtually bizarre wife.

“You know they’re not real, right?” he asks. Gently. But not so gently that I don’t get the point:

Neighbors, Rose and Alan next door: real.

Women’s group, Ginny, Diane, Susan: real.

Team Besties, Nichole & Kathy: Real.

Tweeps: Not real.

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Also posted in My Life, My Opinionated Self | Tagged | 5 Comments

Too Broke for Books?

200287437-001I heard the Mayor on the radio talking about libraries. He said ‘neighborhoods aren’t about buildings, they’re about people.’

Huh? The least of what describes libraries is buildings. Nearly 400 people didn’t pack the lecture hall of Boston’s main branch library because they want to preserve a building. Is the Mayor implying that one’s neighbors will read to your children? Will they buy you books if you’re laid off? Take in your elderly parents during the day? Let your kids use their computer if you can’t afford one?

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Also posted in My Opinionated Self | Tagged | Leave a comment

Traditionally Speaking, or How a Word Friend Saved Thanksgiving.

uneedaI don’t care how many writers shed tears for the good old days, before we were so connected, before life sped before our tapping fingers:

Web, thee do save me.

My sister and I may not have grown up rife with traditions (when Jill and I hung our socks on Christmas eve, the flat unfilled sight of them the next morning reminded us that Santa didn’t stop for little Jewish girls) but darn it, we had THE STUFFING handed down from Grandma Millie. If we were on death row, our last meal would be THE STUFFING.

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Posted in Cultural Politics | Tagged | 4 Comments

Provincetown: America’s Real Freedom Trail

89040668Last year I spent a week in Provincetown working a newly hatched manuscript. This week I’m here, head down, hammering out revisions. And I’m in the town in America where I feel safest, happiest, and most relaxed.

Why Provincetown?

Freedom.

In Provincetown I get to feel like the minority—something we should all experience.

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Also posted in Family, My Opinionated Self | Tagged | 2 Comments