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In Case We're Separated: Connected Stories
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In Case We're Separated: Connected Stories

by Alice Mattison
 

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Spanning the length and breadth of the twentieth century, Alice Mattison's masterful In Case We're Separated looks at a family of Jewish immigrants in the 1920s and 1930s and follows the urban, emotionally turbulent lives of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren against a backdrop of political assassination, the Vietnam War, and the AIDS

Overview

Spanning the length and breadth of the twentieth century, Alice Mattison's masterful In Case We're Separated looks at a family of Jewish immigrants in the 1920s and 1930s and follows the urban, emotionally turbulent lives of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren against a backdrop of political assassination, the Vietnam War, and the AIDS epidemic. Beginning with the title story, which introduces Bobbie Kaplowitz—a single mother in 1954 Brooklyn whose lover is married and whose understanding of life is changed by a broken kitchen appliance—Mattison displays her unparalleled gift for storytelling and for creating rich, multidimensional characters, a gift that has led the Los Angeles Times to praise her as "a writer's writer."

Editorial Reviews

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
“You’ll want to read it a second time.”
New York Times Book Review
“Radiant... [In Case We’re Seperated] is a book filled with felicitous writing and ferocious insight.”
Sue Halpern
What's different about Mattison's approach is that she has made the scaffolding invisible. Were it not for her author's note, the fact that items are deliberately shared across the stories - or that the number of stories is itself meaningful - would probably be lost on the reader. That the poetic contrivance needs to be pointed out makes it feel like an incantatory device, akin to the "prompts" writing instructors use to jump-start their students' imaginations. In this case, it's a prompt that Mattison (the author of seven previous works of fiction and one book of poetry, and an instructor at the Bennington Writing Seminars) has given herself. The result is a book filled with felicitous writing and ferocious insight.
— The New York Times
Publishers Weekly
A double sestina consists of 12 six-line stanzas, with each line repeating one of six (usually unrelated) words, and the poem ends in a three-line envoi. Mattison's (Men Giving Money, Women Yelling) prose version spans several generations of a Brooklyn family via 13 short stories: each repeats six images-a glass of water, a sharp point, a cord, a mouth, an exchange of items and a map that may be wrong-and the last story is shorter by half than the others. As characters take turns serving as protagonists and secondary characters, multiple, amusing and often devastating perspectives on the Kaplowitz clan emerge. The title piece begins in 1954, when the divorced Bobbie Kaplowitz's Thursday-night-and-Saturday-morning boyfriend exchanges her electric mixer for another, and realizations ensue. "I Am Not Your Mother" swiftly and mercilessly tackles clannish pre-WWI immigrant experience, while "Boy in Winter," set in the present, constructs a brilliant minimystery, as gay urban studies writer Brad moves with partner Warren to Wanda, Wis., and then to Somerville, Mass. Noisier and brighter if not as broad in scope as Joan Silber's recent, also interlinked Ideas of Heaven, Mattison's stories have an arresting focus and navigate the clich s of Jewish-American fiction firmly and knowingly. As the images repeat and characters recur, the family's involuntary interconnectedness emerges starkly, even as the characters experience wildly differing epiphanies-and have varied, vivid reactions to them. (Oct. 11) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780060937898
Publisher:
HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
11/21/2006
Pages:
240
Product dimensions:
5.31(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.54(d)

Read an Excerpt

In Case We're Separated

Connected Stories
By Alice Mattison

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Copyright © 2005 Alice Mattison
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0066213770

Chapter One

In Case We're Separated

"You're a beautiful woman, sweetheart," Edwin Friend began. His girlfriend, Bobbie Kaplowitz, paid attention: Edwin rarely spoke up and complimented her. He tipped his chair against her sink and glanced behind him, but the drain board wasn't piled so high that the back of his head would start an avalanche today. He took a decisive drink from his glass of water and continued, "But in that particular dress you look fat."

It was a bright Saturday morning in October 1954. Edwin often visited Bobbie on Saturday mornings, and she had dressed up a little, anticipating. Now she didn't bother to speak. She reached behind to unfasten the hook and eye at the back of her neck, worked the zipper down without help, stepped out of the dress, and in her underwear took the sharp scissors. She cut a big piece of brown wrapping paper from a roll she kept next to the refrigerator, while Edwin said several times, "What are you doing?"

Bobbie folded the dress, which was chestnut brown with a rustand-cream-colored arrowlike decoration that crossed her breasts and pointed fetchingly down. She set the folded dress in the middle of the paper, wrapped and taped it, and addressed the package to her slimmer sister in Pittsburgh. Then she went into the bedroom and changed into something seriously gorgeous.

"Come, Bradley," she called, though Edwin would have babysat, but Bradley came quickly. He was a thin six-year-old with dark curls and the habit of resting his hands on his hips, so from the front he looked slightly supervisory and from the back his pointed elbows stuck out like outlines of small wings. They left Edwin looking surprised. At the post office, a considerable walk away, the clerk said the package had to be tied with string, but lent Bobbie a big roll of twine and his scissors. Bobbie was wearing high-heeled shoes, and she braced herself on the counter with one gloved hand. She was short and the shoes made her wobble. She took the end of the twine in her mouth, grasped it between her teeth, and jerked her head back to pull it tight. It was brown twine, now reddened with her lipstick, and its taste was woody and dry. Fibers separating from the twine might travel across Bobbie's tongue and make her gag. For all she knew, her poor old teeth might loosen.

Much was brown: the twine, the paper around the package (even the dress inside if one could see it), and the wooden counter with its darkened brass decorations. The counter was old enough to have taken on the permanent sour coloring of wooden and metal objects in Brooklyn that had remained in one place -- where any hand might close upon them -- since the century turned. But Bobbie's lipstick, and the shoes she'd changed into, and her suit -- which had a straight skirt with a kick pleat -- were red. She wore a half-slip because she was a loose woman. Joke. Edwin's hands always went first to her bare, fleshy midriff. Then he seemed to enjoy urging the nylon petticoat down, sliding the rubber knobs up and out of the metal loops that attached her stockings to her girdle, even tugging the girdle off. She never let him take off her nylons because he wasn't careful.

Bobbie tied a firm knot. Then she changed her mind. She poked the roll of twine and the scissors toward the clerk with an apologetic wave, called to Bradley -- who was hopping from one dark medallion on the tile floor to the next, flapping his arms -- and went home. As Bobbie walked, one eye on Bradley, the package dangled from her finger on its string like a new purchase. At home she found Edwin taking apart her Sunbeam Mixmaster with her only tool, a rusty screwdriver.

"Didn't you say it wasn't working?" Edwin asked.

"There's nothing wrong with it. I didn't say anything."

Edwin was married. He had told Bobbie he was a bachelor who couldn't marry her because he lived with his mother, who was old, silly, and anti-Semitic. But his mother lived in her own apartment and was not silly or anti-Semitic as far as he knew. Edwin had a wife named Dorothy, a dental hygienist. She'd stopped working when their first child was born -- they had two daughters -- but sometimes she helped out her old boss. Now, fumbling to put Bobbie's mixer back together, Edwin began to wonder uneasily whether it wasn't Dorothy, dressing for work in her uniform, who happened to mention a broken mixer. He had never confused the two women before in the years he'd been Bobbie's boyfriend.

Edwin's monkey business had begun by mistake. He was a salesman for a baking supply company, and Bobbie was in charge of the payroll at a large commercial bakery. Though Edwin didn't wear a ring, he believed that everyone in the firms through which he passed assumed he was somebody's husband. However, a clerk in Bobbie's office had moved to Brooklyn from Minneapolis. When this young woman, who had distinctive habits, asked him straight out, Edwin misheard the question and said no. He had heard, "Mr. Friend, are you merry?"

Edwin was good-natured but not merry, and the question puzzled him until he found himself having lunch with Bobbie, to whom the young woman from Minneapolis had introduced him. He realized that he was on a date. Bobbie seemed eager and attractive, while Dorothy liked to make love about as often as she liked to order tickets and go to a Broadway show, or invite her whole family for dinner, and with about as much planning. Not knowing exactly what he had in mind, Edwin suggested that Bobbie meet him for a drink after work, nervous that she'd refuse anything less than dinner and a movie. But she agreed. Drinking a quick whiskey sour in a darkened lounge, she suggested that next time he come to her house. . . .

Continues...


Excerpted from In Case We're Separated by Alice Mattison Copyright © 2005 by Alice Mattison.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Alice Mattison is the award-winning author of four story collections and five novels, including Nothing Is Quite Forgotten in Brooklyn. She teaches fiction in the graduate writing program at Bennington College in Vermont and lives in New Haven, Connecticut.

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