Lake Atitlan, Panajachel, Guatemala

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

My Review of FAREWELL, ALEPPO by Claudette E. Sutton

Paperback:   180 Pages
Genre:  Memoir
Publisher:   Terra Nova Books (October 1, 2014)
ISBN-10:   1938288408
ISBN-13:  978-1938288401
Amazon Link: click here


The Jews of Aleppo, Syria, had been part of the city’s fabric for more than two thousand years, in good times and bad, through conquerors and kings. But in the middle years of the twentieth century, all that changed.

To Selim Sutton, a merchant with centuries of roots in the Syrian soil, the dangers of rising anti-Semitism made clear that his family must find a new home. With several young children and no prospect of securing visas to the United States, he devised a savvy plan for getting his family out: “exporting” his sons. In December 1940, he told the two oldest, Meïr and Saleh, that arrangements had been made for their transit to Shanghai, where they would work in an uncle’s export business. China, he hoped, would provide a short-term safe harbor and a steppingstone to America.

But the world intervened for the young men, now renamed Mike and Sal by their Uncle Joe. Sal became ill with tuberculosis soon after arriving and was sent back to Aleppo alone. And the war that soon would engulf every inhabited land loomed closer each day. Joe, Syrian-born but a naturalized American citizen, barely escaped on the last ship to sail for the U.S. before Pearl Harbor was bombed and the Japanese seized Shanghai. Mike was alone, a teen-ager in an occupied city, across the world from his family, with only his mettle to rely on as he strived to survive personally and economically in the face of increasing deprivation.

Farewell, Aleppo is the story—told by his daughter—of the journey that would ultimately take him from the insular Jewish community of Aleppo to the solitary task of building a new life in America. It is both her father’s tale that journalist Claudette Sutton describes and also the harrowing experiences of the family members he left behind in Syria, forced to smuggle themselves out of the country after it closed its borders to Jewish emigration.

The picture Sutton paints is both a poignant narrative of individual lives and the broader canvas of a people’s survival over millennia, in their native land and far away, through the strength of their faith and their communities. Multiple threads come richly together as she observes their world from inside and outside the fold, shares an important and nearly forgotten epoch of Jewish history, and explores universal questions of identity, family, and culture.

My Review of FAREWELL, ALEPPO

I was pretty excited to read this book and participate in its Women on Writing blog tour. The cover is compelling, with the photo of this handsome, dark-haired young man (the author's father) looking a bit lost yet brave and tough all at once.

 And the idea of Jews having lived and thrived in Syria for thousands of years-- who knew? Where did they all go? Why did they leave? Well, that last question seems obvious, considering what's been going on in the Middle East in recent times, and especially in Syria.

Not to be disappointed, I learned a great deal about the handsome man on the cover, and about the Syrian Jews. Sutton's book is part family history, part Jewish/Middle East history, and yet somehow she manages to tie all the various threads together into a cohesive whole.

At the same time, it is much like the story of many others who have come to America because of terrible conditions in their own countries.  And where, in the end, do they really belong? Reflecting on my own grandmother, the child of Norwegian immigrants in the late 19th century, she taught me that it wasn't so much their own futures they worked and sacrificed for, but for their children and grandchildren.

Sutton states in the book: "Our identification as Syrian Jews seemed defined not so much by place as by the culture they took with them."

Farewell, Aleppo is a thorough yet personal account of the author's father and his circuitous journey from Syria to China and, finally, to America. I learned so  much from it! Well worth a read, especially to history buffs and those interested in the Middle East.

About the Author:  
It’s no coincidence that family is the central focus of both Farewell, Aleppo and the work that has been the driving force of its author’s professional life.

Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in the close-knit community of Syrian Jews all were part of Claudette Sutton’s childhood in suburban Maryland, along with her parents and siblings. Years later, as a young mother in Santa Fe, it seemed only natural to think of creating a similar kind of close support for families in her new hometown by means of her journalism training and experience.

Thus began what is now Tumbleweeds, an award-winning local publication that for over twenty years has been expanding its role in serving the city’s families. As the quarterly newspaper has grown, so have its scope and community contributions, mixing news, commentary, personal writing, advice, and activity guides—all reflecting Claudette’s vision of a community resource to help her neighbors face the challenges of parenting.

Claudette’s eloquent writing, the other great strength she combines with the paper’s wide-ranging utility, has been a door to the world for her since she was a teen-ager. As a reporter, she realized early, “You can learn about everything”—a much more appealing option after high school than the enforced specialization of college.

After three years writing for the Montgomery County Sentinel in Maryland, Claudette moved to New York, where she earned a bachelor’s degree from the New School for Social Research. Living in proximity to another side of her extensive family, she built a deeper understanding of the Jewish exodus from Syria that has formed the backdrop for the story she tells so movingly in Farewell, Aleppo.

The narrative chronicles her father’s youth, his odyssey across oceans and continents, and the new life he made in America. But as Claudette talked with him and researched more deeply, she saw also the essential elements of the larger tale. What began as one man’s story grew into a portrait of the history that made his journey necessary, and of how a vibrant people have preserved their community and culture through the thousands of years from biblical times to today.

Find Claudette Online:
IMPORTANT, please embed YouTube Book Trailer where possible:








Praise:
"A multi-faceted biography of her father and his long-ago journey from ancient Aleppo to skyscraper America, the story of the vanished Syrian-Jewish culture in Aleppo, now a battleground in Syria's civil war, [and] a look at how that culture still survives. A treasure of a book."
-Bernard Kalb, former correspondent for the New York Times, CBS News and NBC News, moderator of CNN's Reliable Sources and Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs


"Sutton merges the best of family biography with relevant and fascinating historical, social, and religious knowledge. Incorporating elements of history, religious struggles, pursuit of dreams, and the strength of kinship to create a stirring tribute to the foresight of her grandfather and the strength and perseverance of his offspring, Sutton craftily weaves interesting story lines into an encouraging and intriguing narrative."
-Foreword Reviews

Claudette Sutton takes the reader on a courageous journey as she tells the story of her father, whose world changed with the winds of World War II.Farewell, Aleppo is a story of how people are shaped by their past. This book is a must-read for anyone who wants to explore this rich culture that many people do not know very much about.
- Elise Cooper, Jewish Book Council

An engaging, evocative, deeply touching book that is part memoir, part history and part a personal journey....virtually a love-story of a daughter to a father.

– James McGrath Morris, author of Pulitzer, and Eyes on the Struggle

This book is a jewel box, and Sutton's father's shimmering memories of growing up Jewish in Aleppo, Turkey, and Shanghai are the precious jewels. I could taste the food, feel the anxiety after the founding of Israel, experience the highs and lows of life in Shanghai during the Second World War. The specificity of the Mizrahi lifestyle––which continues in America to this day–– will be of great interest to readers.

- Judith Fein, author of The Spoon From Minkowitz and Life is A Trip

Sutton manages to walk that fine, fine line of making the personal universal and the universal personal. [She] interviewed her dad over a period of nearly twenty years and did a tremendous amount of research for this book, but the sprawling story of “China Mike” is somehow concise, a tidy 155 pages in a pleasing design with photos, maps, and enough historical context to complete the reader’s understanding. We are indebted to her for this outstanding book.

- Barbara Gerber, author of "Love and Death in a Perfect World"

Farewell, Aleppo: My Father, My People, and Their Long Journey Home offers the reader a graceful blend of “China Mike's” biography and a history of the Jewish people of Aleppo. When I finished Claudette Sutton's tribute, I felt I'd traveled many miles and gotten to know Miro, Son of Selim Sutton.  A true father-daughter story, Farewell, Aleppo is loving, informative and unforgettable.

-Elaine Pinkerton Coleman, author of From Calcutta with Love and The Goodbye Baby

There certainly must have been something unique about the Jews of Aleppo to have allowed them to survive there for thousands of years and preserve a sense of tradition and community in America for the last 100 years. A remarkable tale of the power of family, tradition, culture and history. Makes the current devastation of Aleppo during the Syrian Civil War all the more tragic.

- Ellen Zieselman, retired Curator of Education, New Mexico Mexico Museum of Art; Youth Director, Temple Beth Shalom


Saturday, October 14, 2017

The Voice of the Writer in Memoir

This past year, ever since we came back to the States, I've been all wrapped up in work for WiDo Publishing. It's our ten-year anniversary and we are very close to having our 100th book published.

We also started a new imprint, E.L. Marker, a hybrid company that offers traditional publishing services to self-publishing authors.

It's been a crazy busy year. The only writing I've done is journaling (my personal psychotherapy) and writing emails to authors whose work I'm editing and/or preparing for publication. So many emails.

I've edited a number of memoirs this year for both WiDo and E.L. Marker, and it's got me thinking about the writer's voice. In any kind of writing, voice will attract or repel readers. But in memoir it's especially important. If you dislike the voice of the narrator, you won't keep reading, since the memoir is about the narrator.

There a few tricks of the trade in editing a memoir to make the voice more appealing. Strangely enough, one of them is to tone it down. You might think, "But why? It's about this person so why not put as much personality in there as you can? So the reader can feel like they know them?"

A good question. The entire book is about the individual, in first person, their story, but it's also about other people they've included in their story. And those other people are part of what makes the memoir whole and balanced.

Putting in too much of the writer's personality, in the form of little asides or sarcasm or other types of humor, can quickly turn the reader off. It tends to make the narrator come across as self-absorbed and thus unlikable--the last thing we want to see happen in a memoir.

If you'd like to take a look at WiDo's selection of memoirs, click on this link to our bookstore and see the tab for Memoir.

Memoir is currently my favorite genre. I can't get enough of them, which I guess is why I've chosen to edit so many lately, rather than passing them along to other WiDo editors.

How do you feel about memoir, either writing or reading them?

Friday, September 29, 2017

What Part Does Luck Play in Success?

Today I'm hosting Eric Trant as part of his WOW blog tour for his new novel, Risen. First, a little bit about this intriguing book, and then a really thoughtful and inspiring post as Eric guest blogs today on Coming Down the Mountain.

RISEN by Eric Trant

Haunted by visions of a demonic angel and sold into servitude by his father, young Alberto battles to survive the horrors of a nineteenth century Sicilian sulfur mine.

Suffering merciless brutality, Alberto must save not only himself but his deformed older brother, both pawns in their father’s mad plan to overthrow a group of wealthy landowners.

Bound by a death-debt to his hunchback master, Alberto discovers a door the miners call Porta dell’Inferno, the Door to Hell, deep within the sulfur mines. When he learns the demon-angel of his dreams stalks the caverns beyond the door, Alberto realizes a strange fate has lured him and his brother to the gates leading to the underworld.

Now Alberto must face the creature from his visions and rise to become the man his father demands him to be, or remain forever trapped in a hellish world where none escape.

Print Length: 182 Pages
Genre: Historical Supernatural Fiction
Publisher: WiDo Publishing (August 15, 2017)

Risen is available in print on
 Amazon.

What Part Does Luck Play in Success?

Prepare for lightning

When it comes to success in any discipline, we discuss things such education, talent and experience, but something we only mention tangentially is the element of ~luck~.

Opportunity knocks softly. Fifteen minutes of fame. Every dog has its day.

And so on. We sense luck in our success and in our opportunities, but we do not openly discuss and prepare for it.

For instance, let's say you meet a well-known author-agent in a coffee shop. It is a chance meeting, and by equal chance they are open to discussing your books (they will usually trip you and run), and by monumental chance they represent books in your genre, and by God's grace they are seeking a new author for an open slot in their release schedule next year.

Would you be ready for that stroke of luck? Are you prepared for lightning to strike?

Do not break the big break

See, success requires a great deal of luck. Every successful story begins first with vision, then with hard work crafting that vision into reality, and concludes with a ~big break~ that changes everything. Whether it is building a company or publishing a book, I challenge you to find a success story that does not follow this well-grooved arc.

So, you chat with the agent. Her name is Rebecca. She is insanely pretty and kind of intimidating because she smells like the mall, is sharply dressed and well-kempt, and totes a purse that is probably more expensive than your Hyundai, and large enough to bag it.

Not really. She is an author-agent. She is wearing a workout shirt and yoga pants, no makeup, hair in a ponytail, and she has two black labs tied up outside named Joker and Puddin. She is short and a little pudgy, insanely pretty because of her eyes (avid readers have amazing eyes), and her name really is Rebecca. Call her Becki, with an 'i'. She is drinking a seventeen-syllable iced-something, and she wants to go outside to sit, so she can water the pups.

It is summer and muggy, but you follow her outside. You sit. This is your big break.

You spill your coffee on her dogs.

After the strike

But you were prepared for Becki, with an 'i'. She laughs and says it is no big deal, they love to get wet, and you thank God Almighty you ordered iced mocha instead of your usual scalding-hot Americana, another stroke of luck. A barista appears with a towel, helps you with the dogs, takes the empty cup and says she will bring you another drink, what was it you ordered?

Just a mocha, iced.

Neither of you brought your computer, and you do not carry your books around, so what do you say to her?

Well, you tell her about your books. You ~do~ have more than one book, don't you? Of course you do. You wrote several, along with some short stories, and penned at least a dozen total, not all of them published. You forget how many short stories. A bunch.

Do you have a blog? Absolutely. What about a fan page on Facebook? Not really, but you belong to some online groups, and collected a fair number of followers.

What are your sales like? Ouch. Still, you confess your sins, and she purses her bottom lip, but then says, I might be able to fix that. Tell me what you are working on next.

You pull out your elevator pitch, the one you began practicing the instant you selected a working title for your WiP.

It is tentatively called WISH. It's about a family implosion following the loss of a toddler, and focuses on the five-year-old daughter, who meets a silly little man sitting on a spring-fed well, and makes a wish she wishes she hadn't.

(That is my next piece, actually. This is what I would say to Becki.)

Go on...

Go on, Becki says.

You tell her more about WISH, describe your current release, RISEN, from WiDo Publishing, how you amped up your marketing and have now built a bit of a backlog you can leverage for plus-one sales.

Nice, she says.

Your respawned iced mocha shows up. There is a pause as the barista asks if you need anything else.

Afterward, you sip and chat, and turn the discussion away from writing and toward personal things. She has a husband who is an engineer like yourself. He is tall, though, and played basketball in college. She had to throw that in, you suppose, because you are not tall, and let's admit it, most engineers are short folks who are good at math and bad at sports. He really is an exception.

At some point, numbers and emails are exchanged, and she makes a full-request read for your upcoming WISH novel, when you finish.

Give me a month, you say.

No rush, she says. I won't be able to look at it for another fifteen weeks. I'll queue it up, though, so mark the date and don't forget me.



Luck is sudden and rare. Stay ready.

Otherwise, without all your preparation, a wet dog might be all luck remembers of you.
She says that last part over her shoulder as she leashes her pups, and how could you possibly forget her? This moment is scalded into your memory bank.

You rappel from your cloud as she walks away with her dogs, stunned that luck slapped you during your afternoon commute, thankful you stopped here and not the pub (honoring your wife's firm request), and amazed that something like this actually happened to someone like you.

Above all, though, you are thankful you were prepared when luck tapped your shoulder.

About the Author:

Eric resides in Dallas, TX with his wife and children, where he writes and manages his own business. His writing combines literary characterization with supernatural elements, all the while engaging the reader's senses with constant movement and vivid settings. His books are designed to be one-sitters, meaning they can and should be read in one (or a few) sittings, owing to the fast-paced nature of the writing.

You can visit Eric at http://www.EricTrant.com, or see his blog at DiggingWithTheWorms.blogspot.com.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

On Having Too Much Stuff and Getting Rid of It

There's a link going around Facebook to an online article titled: "Sorry, Nobody Wants Your Parents' Stuff."  Since I've been through it, both on the daughter/ daughter-in-law side as well as the mother/homeowner side, I could totally relate.

My mother and my mother-in-law were worlds apart regarding stuff and how to deal with it. Both were widows, and that's where the resemblance ended. My mother chose to downsize as much as she could, while my mother-in-law bought a larger house with more room for her possessions.

Being my mother's daughter and admiring simplicity, I am still fascinated with how my mother-in-law collected, stored, added on until it seemed she was buried under her stuff. Not that she was a junkaholic or hoarder. Her things were nice, often expensive, and usually well-organized. She had an entire room of her house for fabric, arranged like a retail fabric store. Another similar room for crafts and the supplies related to whatever crafts she'd done or planned to do. Another room for storage of food and household supplies. Two freezers held hundreds of pounds of cheese, butter, nuts and other deliciousness that would take two families a lifetime to consume.

On the contrary, my mother had as her goal to live in such a way that her daughters (the four of us) would not have to agonize over her possessions when she passed. The more she could get rid of, the happier she was. When she died, my sisters, nieces and nephews who lived nearby were able to completely empty Mom's two bedroom apartment in less than a week. My mom would have been pleased by that.

When my mother-in-law died, she had a 4000 sq foot house filled with furniture, family history documents and photos, and of course the many years worth of food storage. It took my sister-in-law a decade to completely go through everything and dispose of it one way or another.

I'm not saying one way is better than another. I think in a way my sister-in-law enjoyed her task, as she was able to spend this time going through all these things related to her mom's life and that of her family going back generations. And getting all the butter, cheese and nuts would have been nice.

But as for me, I'm more like my mom, taking pleasure in simplicity and knowing my kids won't be burdened with having to deal with piles of stuff when I'm gone. I've already done that job for them.

My husband and I currently live a very downsized existence. We got rid of nearly everything so we could leave the country three years ago. Now that we're back, neither of us want to start collecting again. Our goal is to stay free and unattached so we can pack up and go again when we feel like it.



This is our living room, a spare space furnished at very low cost. The most expensive thing we bought was the couch for $25.

I have a couple of antique wall hangings I plan on getting framed for those two bare walls. I know once we leave, my daughter will be happy to take them for her home. She's already told me where she would hang them.

We did buy the TV cabinet. My husband needed a place to keep office supplies so we got it for $15 at Restore. It's one of those brown things that nobody really wants anymore. And if they did, they'd paint it. Since painting stresses me out, I'm okay leaving it as is, although I admit it's too dark for my taste.

I paid $3.00 for the basil plant on the table. It's going to get repotted and put on the patio. And basil isn't permanent, except in beautiful Guatemala where it grows up into a year round tree of abundance. In Utah, it dies with the frost.

This was a pretty long blog post to talk about living simply. Clearly I have more words than I have stuff, which is exactly the way I like it.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

The Palenque Archeological Site and Why I Won't Go There Again

Bruce and I never made it to Guatemala's Tikal, the largest Maya ruins in Central America. We were determined not to miss Palenque in Mexico, considered to be a very large and important site in Chiapas, Mexico, and although not as large as Tikal, comparable to it.


We had visited other Maya ruins in both Guatemala and Chiapas. All the sites we'd been to before had been peaceful, tranquil settings, where I wanted to just sit and bask in the feelings of these ancient cities. We supposed we'd have a similar experience upon visiting Palenque, although on a grander and more glorious scale, making us really excited about the trip.



How surprised I was to find that Palenque was the opposite. No sooner did I step foot on the land than I had a compelling desire to leave. But we had traveled many miles to get here. My restless emotional state seemed silly. Nonetheless, I couldn't relax. I started walking and just kept going as fast as I could through the park, hardly stopping to look at the buildings.



People were climbing steps and wandering through the palaces on top of the structures. All I could do was follow the pathways around and through the site, giving just a quick glance around. Bruce wanted to go slowly and take photos, while I wanted to walk far and fast as quickly as possible. We agreed to meet at a central location in an hour and a half, at 11 am.

He took all the photos while I felt the frantic urge to just get away.



After thirty minutes I was done, wishing we'd set up our meeting time for earlier. I walked around the edge of the park to kill another thirty minutes, then wandered toward our meeting place hoping I'd run into Bruce.



At last I saw him with his ever present backpack and cowboy hat making his way down the stairs of one of the structures. I walked across the grassy area towards him, thinking how nice it was that we'd found each other ahead of schedule. I visualized the two of us running across the field in a joyous reunion.

On the contrary, Bruce plopped down heavily on the bottom step of the edifice. I couldn't bring myself to go to the structures I'd been avoiding for the past hour and sat down on a stump in the field. We were within shouting distance of each other so we conversed in loud voices.

"Are you ready to go?" I hollered.

"Almost, just need to rest a bit. I'm really tired," he said back in barely a whisper.

"What? I can't hear you."

He repeated himself loud enough for me to hear. A young couple walking hand in hand nearby must have thought we were crazy. Why were we shouting? Why not just sit together? What was wrong with us?

Always sensitive to what people were thinking about me, I forced myself to get up and go sit next to him. He told me how tired he was, how heavy his nearly empty backpack felt on his shoulders, how he had to rest a bit, then he'd be ready to leave.

Finally, we got out of there. Later, we reflected on our varied experiences. He had felt this strange, unbearable exhaustion and heaviness after exploring the structures, especially the tunnel pictured below. I'd felt an inexplicable need to get away. There were several other strange occurrences that I won't go into.
Picture of darkness 
In the end, our conclusion was that bad things must have happened in this area those many centuries ago.

Anyone who wants to know more about Palenque can easily find information online. What I'm sharing is not ancient history but personal history, how the two of us felt very negative vibes coming from this place. A place I never want to visit ever again.

Has this sort of thing ever happened to you, where you felt terribly uncomfortable in an environment for no sensible reason?

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

The Creative Pause

I don't believe in "writer's block." Although of course there are days when one's creativity is in full swing and others when it seems to disappear, when the writing doesn't go well for whatever reason.

I like to think of those periods as a pause in creativity. No block. Nothing I can't change when I'm good and ready, just a slight pause.

There's plenty to do when it happens, things that are part of a writer's work. Update the website. Read articles about the publishing business. Stay involved on social media. Organize files. Read books!

One nice thing about a creative pause is feeling like a normal person instead of a slave to whatever book is after you, pushing itself to get written. You can relax and enjoy life instead of agonizing over every "wasted" moment not spent writing.

Writer's block has negative connotations. The creative pause is rather nice. It can be a welcome respite from the intense productivity that comes when creativity is in its fullness with its prodding, pushing, unrelentless attack on your time, talents and energy.

No need to dread the creative pause, is what I tell myself. Welcome and embrace it, enjoy it, make the most of it. Like all good things, it will come to an end in its own good time.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Memoir Review: ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces

…At age nineteen, Dorit Sasson, a dual American-Israeli citizen, was trying to make the status quo work as a college student―until she realized that if she didn’t distance herself from her neurotic, worrywart of a mother, she would become just like her.

This book caught my interest. I'm reviewing ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER as part of the WOW blog tour.

Paperback:  337 pages
Genre:  Memoir
Publisher:  She Writes Press (June 14, 2016)
ISBN-10: 1631520350
ISBN-13: 978-1631520358
Amazon Link: click here


Book Summary:
At age nineteen, Dorit Sasson, a dual American-Israeli citizen, was trying to make the status quo work as a college student―until she realized that if she didn’t distance herself from her neurotic, worrywart of a mother, she would become just like her.

Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces is Sasson’s story of how she dropped out of college and volunteered for the Israel Defense Forces in an effort to change her life―and how, in stepping out of her comfort zone and into a war zone, she discovered courage and faith she didn’t know she was capable of.

My review of ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER

Dorit's relationship with her mother is the motivating force for her decision to join the Israel Defense Forces, although her father's influence was a strong part of it as well. Her Israeli-born father, divorced from her mother and remarried, realizes if Dorit doesn't do something to break the unhealthy psychological ties with her mother, she may turn out just like her.

The mother in Dorit's story is a minor character in some ways, yet looms huge throughout the book due to her influence on Dorit. The mother is actually fascinating, one of those kinds of people you can't imagine functions in real life, yet you want to know every detail. If Dorit ever writes a memoir about her mother's life, that would be one not to miss.


Once Dorit is in Israel, my favorite parts of the book were her descriptions about the country and people. I found it interesting how she felt safe there, like the whole country had her back. And the citizens love their IDF, feeling like this strong group of committed soldiers has their back. 


Altogether, this memoir has a fascinating dynamic, going from the dysfunctional family life Dorit experiences in New York City, to kibbutz life as an eighteen-year-old, and at last breaking into a strong independent adult as a member of the IDF. 

About the Author:  Dorit Sasson writes for a wide range of print and online publications, including The Huffington Post and The Writer, and speaks at conferences, libraries, and community centers. She is the author of the a featured chapter in Pebbles in the Pond: Transforming the World One Person at a Time, the latest installment of that best-selling series, and. She is the host of the global radio show "Giving Voice to Your Courageous Story." She lives in Pittsburgh, PA with her husband and two children.



Find Dorit Sasson Online:


Twitter:  @VoicetoStory



Wednesday, June 29, 2016

How It Used to Be for Women Writers

I went through a spell of reading books that were highly acclaimed back in the 1950s and 1960s. They were ones I had missed reading since in the 1950s I was a kid reading Nancy Drew and Beverly Cleary.

In the Sixties when I was in high school, my favorite books were Les Miserables, Great Expectations and David Copperfield. I loved my classics and had no interest in the current fiction of the day back then.

I won't name the books or writers I read during my recent catch-up phase. They were all extremely well-regarded, prize-winning novels by famous literary people.

And I could barely stomach them, giving me much fodder to reflect on how much the literary culture has changed since those days of the 1950s through the 1970s. And thank heavens for that.

As managing editor at WiDo, I can say unequivocally that if any one of those prize-winning novels had come to us as a submission, we'd have turned it down flat. They were that bad.

Hardly any story, themes that made no sense, unlikable characters. No heart, no soul. Yet these books and their famous authors were such a big deal back then.

In fifty plus years, the world of books is completely different. To me, that's a very good thing. I'm so thankful I got busy with marriage and children and didn't try to have a career in those days as a novelist. I'd have been shot down so bad I may have never recovered.

Women writers didn't fare too well in that era except in the romance genre. The literary giants were largely all men.

Women with literary aspirations instead would often attach themselves to literary men--college professors, published poets, playwrights and novelists--and the women would write their poetry, essays and stories, maybe teach and maybe get published in little literary magazines or win an award now and then.

What I did was write children's stories and sell them to magazines for kids. Not exactly literary aspirations but it kept me in the game.

Joyce Carol Oates was different. She is one of my heroes and favorite writers of all time. I'm not sure how much her books made though, compared to men writers of the same era. She continued working throughout her career as a college professor rather than going full time as a writer. Either she loved to teach or she needed the financial security it provided, who can say.

JK Rowling, still using her initials since the publisher didn't figure the book would sell if people thought the author was a woman, changed all that. She gave women writers a voice.

Every woman writing and publishing today owes a debt of gratitude to JK Rowling. She opened up the era of publishers actually believing women could write outside of the romance genre and do it very, very well.

On the heels of the Harry Potter phenomenon came the Kindle revolution, further giving women an outlet for their work via self-publishing. The Kindle revolution along with POD publishing also provided the means for many small publishers like WiDo to remain profitable.

Many of these small publishers have overwhelmingly embraced female authors, and given older women a chance as well. One of WiDo's bestselling books is In the Mirror: A Memoir of Shattered Secrets by Ann Carbine Best, published when Ann was 72.

Now books written by women rule the bestseller lists. For those of us my age who clearly remember the way it used to be, this is pretty awesome.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Wall Art of Comitan

Comitan is a great walking city. There are wide sidewalks stretching off into interesting places, and often hordes of other people around strolling, shopping, visiting. My husband and I have been all over town and not once felt anything but safe. He takes his camera when he goes and especially enjoys taking pictures of the wall art that's everywhere.

I thought I'd post a few of my favorites. This leopard is the winner, followed by the snake. The leopard is regal and majestic, the snake just cute and friendly.



It's amazing to me how an artist can paint on such a large canvas as a wall, with great detail that one has to move far away to appreciate. How do they do it? And when do they do it? I've never seen anyone painting the walls, then one day it's done.


I'm glad the authorities don't go around arresting or fining anyone, or painting over their work. The artists don't get anything for their creations except the joy of doing it for public display. For the joy it gives them and gives those who see it as they go around town.


The scene below is painted on a wall in a children's park. It's so sweet and charming, illustrating the culture of an earlier time.


Ending with another depiction of an earlier era, the Aztec culture. We lived among the Mayan culture in Guatemala. Mexico is land of the Aztecs. They are much friendlier these days, thank goodness. And the food is amazing.


Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Our Guatemala Experience

I'm currently working on a book about our Guatemala experience. We sold everything we had, moved to Guatemala and stayed there two years. Right now we live in Mexico, and yet Guatemala is fresh on my mind. I can't write fast enough. There's so much that happened to us, so much to write about.

I published a blog post on my website, an excerpt from the book, here. They say writing a memoir is painful. I certainly felt that with my self-help memoir, as I wrote about on my last post

I'm not feeling that kind of pain with this new project. Mostly just an urgency to get it all down before the memories fade away.