Ann S. Epstein Writer

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson (Rated 2) – Unconvinced. Having attended weekly Torah study at my temple for 34 years, I was eager to read the Christian interpretation offered by Marilynne Robinson in Reading Genesis. Seeking enlightenment, I was confounded by frustration. The Jewish tradition is to ask questions and entertain multiple, even conflicting, answers. From her Calvinist perspective, Robinson makes the unwavering case that God can do no wrong. Evil exists, but it is part of God’s plan for Creation, and thus inherently “good,” even when humans go awry. Thus, the story of Cain and Abel is not about murderous jealousy but about the mercy and kindness of God, who allows Cain to survive and procreate under His protection. Robinson’s God is irrefutably loving, patient, and tolerant whereas the God I’ve been inspired to create is flawed and learns on the job, just like humans. Instead of “turning, turning” the Genesis scroll to reveal its many lessons, Robinson’s agenda is single-minded. She simply ignores any text that contradicts her view. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page, I lost patience with her rigidity and bias. I was not convinced by her version of an all-good, straight-marching God when scripture presents an imperfect, stumbling one. The one insight I did find true was that law, not patriarchy or monarchy, is the structure that underlies the creation of the Israelites as a people. Leaders come and go, but laws remain and are passed on. For me, that is the reason we continue to study Genesis and the rest of Torah.

A simplistic take on a complex narrative

Why writers read: “A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.” – Italo Calvino

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman (Rating 5) – Guilty Expressions. I couldn’t help but feel guilty each time my face expressed the emotions that overcame me as I read Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman. Redman was born with a rare condition of facial paralysis called Moebius Syndrome. The disability affects her mouth, rendering it immobile, and eyelids, which she cannot fully close. So, whenever I smiled in response to her tender childhood memories, curled my lips in anger at those who teased her, or crinkled my eyes in gratitude at her mother’s unwavering support, I was acutely self-conscious that my face could show emotions that Redman’s disability makes impossible. She’s denied a form of communication we take for granted. Redman grew up not only hiding her feelings from others, but also from herself. Saving Face is a moving narrative of her struggle to find self-acceptance. More than that, it is her journey to find self-affirmation for her inner and outer beauty. Redman’s recollections brought to mind two classics of children’s literature. Her fascination at age ten with folding origami swans evoked memories of Hans Christian Anderson’s story “The Ugly Duckling,” a misfit waterfowl who grows up to be a beautiful swan. And I thought of E. B. White’s book, The Trumpet of the Swan, the story of a trumpeter swan born without a voice who overcomes his disability by learning to play a trumpet. Likewise, Redman finds creative ways to express herself, as a ballet dancer whose body moves with grace, and as a writer who communicates the feelings her mouth cannot. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I share with Redman the inner grin that comes when the “right” words magically appear on the page. By the end of the book, my guilt at taking my facial muscles for granted was replaced by admiration for Redman, who has opened herself to others and above all, to the possibilities within herself.

A courageous journey navigating disability

Why writers read: “Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?” – Annie Dillard

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez (Rating 5) – Pandemic Pals. The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez is a pandemic novel in which the vulnerables are NOT those most likely to succumb to the virus, but physically and financially robust people who were isolated and alienated before the lockdown. The book focuses on three characters who share a sumptuous NYC apartment: a blocked middle-aged novelist (the unnamed narrator who is an undisguised stand-in for the author); a handsome and playful if not very talkative parrot, Eureka, for whom she house-sits; and a privileged college drop-out she calls “Vetch” who’s been kicked out by his parents and struggles with a history of mental illness. Plot-wise, nothing much happens, just as one would expect in an uncrowded space occupied by beings with no emotional connection to one another. In literary-speak, the stakes are low. And yet the unfolding non-drama is thoroughly absorbing. The narrator’s random memories and observations reflect a state of mind that so many of us experienced during the pandemic. As a fiction writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Nunez’s talent for capturing the interior life of a solitary character in such an active and interactive way. Like her, even after the extreme impact of COVID has passed, we’re still left wondering what it meant, how it will continue to dominate our self-worth and world view, and how vulnerable we all are to another major bout of disruption. Nunez offers no answers, but her book provides good company as we muddle through.

Ruminations on the inescapable impact of COVID lockdown

Why writers read: “A good book is an event in my life.” – Stendhal