Not Banned Here – Anne Frank's Diary, The Graphic Adaptation by Ari Folman and David Polonsky

Earlier this year, I volunteered to read and assess book candidates for the Mark Twain American Voice in Literature Award, something I plan to do again. It was time well spent.

To continue my involvement with the Mark Twain House and Museum (go, if you're anywhere near Hartford, CT, or visit https://marktwainhouse.org). I just joined their Goodreads group, and it seems especially fitting to have started with Anne Frank's Diary, The Graphic Adaptation.

Why? Three reasons: Anne Frank is one of my lifelong heroes, the hate and evil of anti-Semitism is rapidly rising once again, and this is one of the "banned books" in certain school districts and libraries in some states. Reading and supporting books like this one is a way to fight back against that outrageous ignorance.

Putting all that aside, I loved this adaptation of Anne's diary and highly recommend it for adults as well as for older children and teens. I consider it an excellent adjunct to the diary, and depending on the age of the reader, and their familiarity or lack of, it could serve as an introduction or an epilogue. I see it engendering family and reading group discussions and would hope it would also be taught in schools, though the very places where it is most needed are most likely the ones that have banned it.

This adaptation presents a narrative of the events that led to, and took place during, the time that Anne and her family, their friends the van Pels, and the dentist Dr. Pfeffer, hid from the Nazis in the attic of the building on the Prinsengracht in Amsterdam where Anne's father had his business. There is also an Afterword that recounts what followed.

The adapter, Ari Folman, and illustrator, David Polonsky, have created a seamless representation of the events and emotions that Anne recorded in her diary, and expand on the key themes that come through in any reading of the original material: Anne's quest to know herself, the complexity of her relationships with her family members and the others in hiding, her search for meaning in a world gone mad with hate, and her need to contradict that evil with her belief in the essential goodness of (most of) humanity. 

May her memory, and that of all the people who perished at the hands of the Nazis, and by all extremists, be for a blessing.

Why It Happened – Murder on Bedford Street by Victoria Thompson

I didn't think this installment was as appealing as some of the others I have read in the series (I really need to go back and read all the ones in order that I have missed, since I'm fairly new to Victoria Thompson).

There wasn't as much interaction between the leading characters, the husband and wife investigating team of former policeman Frank and midwife Sarah, or with their employees Maeve and Gino, though Maeve played a large part in the story, which was a plus. I also didn't get quite as much of the period flavor as in others in the series.

What made it interesting (and actually important) was the novel's focus on mental illness, how it was recognized, and treated, in the early twentieth century. The stigma of mental illness was even more profound then than it is now. It leads to the question: how much have we progressed, or not, in treating people with serious conditions that could lead them to hurting themselves or others, as occurred in this book? The answer, I think, is not as much as we should have. While large municipal and state-run institutions that housed patients often in appalling and prison-like conditions have largely been abolished and destroyed, we now lack enough facilities or practitioners who can care for people who are suffering, untreated, and often living homeless in the streets of our cities. That is as far from humane as can be, and fallout from COVID exacerbated the numbers of people who need treatment. Perhaps that was Thompson's impetus for this book, and I do recommend it for that reason.

Hollywood Dreams – Stars Over Sunset Boulevard by Susan Meissner

Like all of Meissner's fiction, this novel was well-researched and offered some fascinating insights into the Hollywood of the late 1930s and onward. 

The author explores the friendship between two very different women, Violet, a transplant from Alabama, and Audrey, a native Californian. The two women meet at work at Selznick International Studios, where they work in the secretarial pool as filming for "Gone With The Wind" is about to begin. Audrey owns a small bungalow bequeathed to her by her Aunt Jo, and Violet becomes her roommate. Audrey has a very close friend, Burt, who is in love with her, though she does not have the same feelings for him.

Audrey is a little older, and has aspirations to act in the movies, but her big break has failed to come. Violet left home to escape the rigid society of her upper middle class environment, and a broken romance. Both women (of course) have their secrets, which they eventually share and which lead to a situation many friendships could not sustain, which will become the later focus of the plot.

In a moment of poor judgment and after drinking a few too many cocktails at a party they attend with Burt, they "acquire" a hat that is part of the wardrobe of Scarlett O'Hara in the movie. As Burt works in the costume department and is responsible for the items kept there, he gets into trouble for the incident and nearly loses his job. The hat will take on great significance as time passes.

Many things occur in this triangular friendship, and alignments change. Violet falls in love with Burt, and he with her. They marry, while remaining friends with Audrey. World War II intervenes and time continues to pass as the lives of the friends evolve. Where this will all lead is the crux of the story...which has some somewhat unlikely elements that I will leave to other readers to discover.

What seems unfortunate to me is the device author Meissner used to introduce readers to the action – the infamous hat has made an appearance in a vintage clothing store and the store owner, recognizing its significance wants to return it to its owner. This felt contrived to me, at least as it was used in the book, and less than believable. If it had been handled differently, it would have been more effective and much more appealing. The jacket copy describes this as a "journey more enchanting than any classic movie" but this aspect is just not convincing. Otherwise, there is a lot to like about this book in terms of atmosphere and detail.

Another Side of 60s London – East End Passport by Roy and Cécile Curtis

The full title of this charming little book is East End Passport: A Guide to Petticoat Lane. I picked it up at a new (only to me – it's been around for 50 years or so) used bookstore, Rodgers' Book Barn, in Hillsdale, NY, on a recent weekend trip, along with some other treasures. 

Published in 1969, it is wildly out of date as a travel guide, and be warned, uses some language and commentary that over five decades later, could be deemed somewhat offensive or patronizing by certain readers, but it must be taken in its historical context.

It has a wonderful design – the size and shape of an old-style British passport, with numerous pen and ink sketches by the author's wife, Cécile.

Its great value is as a window into the historic East End of London, where numerous immigrant groups passed through on their way to other parts of London, the whole of Great Britain, or to America, as my own great-grandparents did just after 1900. It retains some of the flavor of what it must have been, not unlike New York's Lower East Side, South Philadelphia, or the West End in Boston as they once were, and now are entirely changed to the point of being unrecognizable. 

Fortunately for me, my first trip to London in 1988 included a Sunday walking tour of the area, when it still retained a bit of its old-time flavor. I only wish I had had this book beforehand for more context and added insight. However, I am happy to have it now, and enjoyed it despite the odds and ends that made me wince just a bit.

Radio City on Stage – The Spectacular by Fiona Davis

Fiona Davis's historical fiction, set in iconic New York City locations, is always entertaining reading and offers commentary about the significance of the settings she chooses. 

This book revolves around Marion Brooks, a young woman who becomes a Radio City Rockette in the mid-1950s. The narrative moves back and forth between that decade and 1992. Reading about the audition and practice processes is interesting in itself, and the description of the theatrical women's boarding house where Marion shares a room with another Rockette offers a wonderful feeling of nostalgia for a very different time, though in many ways, Marion is as contemporary as any young woman of our time. She yearns to follow her dream, make her own way, and be independent.

New York City in 1956 was under attack from a person the author renames the "Big Apple Bomber". There actually was a someone planting pipe bombs in busy locations in the city at that time, though his case has been long forgotten, supplanted by other dangerous individuals like the Son of Sam in the 1970s, and now the Gilgo Beach murderer.

Marion struggles with the expectations of her over-protective father, who has tried to shield her and her older sister Judy from danger, after the death of his wife, their mother, who was hit by a car when the girls were young. Her father views her desire to become a professional dancer as a foolish rebellion and prefers that she marry and have a conventional, safe suburban life. 

Before that, however, she becomes embroiled in the search to apprehend the bomber. When she breaks through and defies her father, a series of tragic events and disappointments changes her direction but ultimately takes her on a fulfilling professional life's journey, though the personal cost is high.

The book is a very fast read, and while it rings true as to locations, some of the plot developments seem a bit contrived. I also noticed, as I have in Davis's other books, the occasional use of an expression that seems out of place – more 2020s than 1950s. This is not enough to limit enjoyment of the book, and most likely younger readers than me may not notice, but I expect others of my age group, familiar with the 1950s might.

The other aspect of note is the author's insertion of Parkinson's Disease into the story, into the character of Marion's father as he aged, and Marion herself in 1992. Davis was diagnosed with Parkinson's in 2020, and became active in the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research. I applaud her for helping to shed light on this affliction and wish her all the best. I hope that she and many others will be the recipient of new treatments as they become available.

Upending Tradition – Varina Palladino's Jersey Italian Love Story by Terri-Lynne DeFino

While I am not Italian-American, I have had and have, close friendships with a number of people of Italian descent, and because they were so kind and welcoming to me, I knew a number of their Italian families, including a few in New Jersey, so quite a lot about this novel reminded of them. But really, I'm not sure how much difference there is between Pennsylvanian Italians, New York Italians, and the Jersey Italians of this novel.

The author precedes each chapter with a few "Jersey" dialect Italian words or expressions – some of which I have heard, even used myself, over the years, though many were new to me too. The definitions and pronunciation guides were very helpful (and often very funny), and now I think I could finally order a sfogliatella (a shell-shaped pastry filled with custard), pronounced svoo-ya-del, in an Italian bakery or café without sounding ridiculous or feeling embarrassed.

The words figure into the story, the saga of the Palladino family, which is based in Wyldale, a fictional working-to-middle class town, which sounds like any number of towns I know in north and mid Jersey (or Brooklyn, Queens, or Philly). Varina, the central character, is a 70-ish widow, who operates a small Italian food specialty store. Sylvia Spini, her 90-plus mother, also widowed, lives with her, and has made finding Varina a boyfriend, who could perhaps even become a new husband, the mission of her remaining years.

There are three grown children: Davide, a high-end hairdresser, owns several salons in the better towns in the area. A ladies' man, he is successful and always in and out of relationships. Dante is the other son, who now heads the family's other business, construction, until recently run by Varina's brother Tommy, who retires and decamps to Florida. Dante is amicably divorced from Pandora, his Greek-American (wow) wife, and has a college-age daughter, Gabriella. The youngest, Donatella, is the wild child, a thirty-something woman who is always in some kind of trouble or difficulty. I must digress here – I love these character's names, which are so expressive of the family's Italian heritage.

The "almost" fourth child is Paulie, a gay man who was rejected by his own parents when they couldn't accept his orientation. He has been unofficially adopted by the Palladinos, works in Dante's business, and since their childhood, has been Donatella's best friend, protector, fall guy, and as an adult, her sometimes lover, despite his identity.

Sylvia and Donatella secretly team up to find a man for Varina, leading to all kinds of unintended, but mostly positive, consequences. Varina makes a new friend, Ruth, a Jewish woman, also widowed, when they meet at a travel agent's office where they have independently booked the same trip to France. Sylvia is skeptical of Ruth (Not Italian, not close to her family, no kids – could she be a lesbian after Varina?), but soon Sylvia will have something else to occupy her thoughts and dreams.

There is one other, shall we say, character in this book, known as Vicky. Vicky is an old-time Victrola record player which has been in the family for generations, that plays opera and waltz music, on its own ghostly schedule...an accompaniment to the three generations of Palladinos and Spinis who have lived in the same house for decades, and just another bit of the craziness of the family dynamic.

Just like life, there are some unexpected twists and turns for the Palladino clan, though we as readers are likely to suss them out before they do. But no matter, as they make for entertaining and heart-pleasing reading that would certainly translate into a joyful film or Netflix series, which I would hope to see one day. As Shakespeare wrote, "All's Well That Ends Well", and the sequence of events makes this novel worthy of your readership.