2019 ~ Helen Hagemann

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Review of The Children's House by Alice Nelson

The Children’s House by Alice Nelson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I enjoyed reading The Children's House . A little slow at first, but as one reviewer has stated the text is often meandering and meditative. Once the story got going about the nurturing aspect of "the children's house" on an Israeli kibbutz, themes of love, comfort and Marina's childlessness and her motivation emerged. The association of Marina with the little refugee boy Gabriel, esp. her love for him was heartfelt and appeared to evoke a personal aspect / history. I was drawn into interesting characters such as Constance and wanted to know more about a possible trauma [although imagined], the elderly nun Vera, her part in the chapters with Constance and Gabriel esp. her perspective on what mattered at the convent. I found Jacob to be that typical CIS white male who acts accordingly, exhibiting a dominant post-colonial fear and also unable to place himself in the shoes of his barren wife. While this book was more character driven, the shifting timeline was interesting and certain historical events not well-known personally such as the scarring of Holocaust survivors, the genocide in Rwanda, its aftermath and the effect on families. As Peter Carey once stated, 'No one writes a novel to dramatically illustrate what everybody knows!'
Alice Nelson's prose is florid and poetic, her descriptions in the early part of the novel are worth repeating here.
Page 17: 'The world was offering her the figure of a mother at a time when she thought she had stopped looking behind her for what had been lost.'
Page 25: 'How can they survive this white time with no leaf on any tree, and the cold so strong that even one small square of bare skin can send it deep into you?'

View all my reviews

Prose poem: Mangoes

Mangoes

Lovely yellow golden slippery juicy dribbling from the tongue and the joy of sectioning each section small tasty single bites exaggerating the buds and the slip slip through the teeth a party in the mouth a season of smell touch peel cook with garlic spring-onions mushrooms coconut stock and tender chicken if free range with choices to be made of skinless or on the bone and supposing there is a bone a good meal comes in the order of sound a corkage of wine the clatter of dishes single or large and possibly there is a crockpot of steamed rice with side colours of red and green and an aromatic suspense should arrive along with bated silence as the cooked spices yellow curry and the tender chicken and golden mangoes slip onto the plate.

Prose Poem: Beer

Beer

The region is tropical sweltering sun sea dazzle humidity warmth and there is every reason to stay and simpler to be in a room but everywhere life is courage to be there for the light and shadow and shade and coconuts cashews and cocktails by the pool waiter in earnest topping up kindness drink to eyes to the bright of overtaking and that is a turning of sobriety to sway and swagger not fall definitely not as the symmetry of liquid amber is lost drunk but certainly not too drunk to toast another taste difference scull another bottle a golden brew icy lick lips lick lips it is not a birthday to send everything away and there is no use at all denying thirst for respect for thirstiness in any country is mutual.

Prose Poem: Sunset

Sunset
The late sky is a gate which opens is open at the hour of closing. Summer says it is so. In the middle of a tiny spot a white light is in bright and comes before the blackening. A. an orange balloon and B. not dangerous and never bursting only an explosion of beautiful, beautiful. Go amber, go gold, a football, a goal landed in the sky. Suppose a good seat is mango juice, a front seat with toes dipped, beach in rubbed purr, ooh ooh ooh leather soles gone and a whole time of ladies simple pleasure smiles toes heels calves sales ladies little sales big ladies little feet satin smooth not saddles of mutton. The day again in a bolster, a blessing, warm not hot and another show of sunset shutting in twenty-four hours.

Prose Poem: Breakfast

Breakfast:
A square table of a period, French provincial and a joyful array of the region with croissants and slender butter and placed with a little difference is a small white bull. Not a real bull. It shows perhaps a borrowing. Spanish, but not, certainly not, as it holds milk for the tea. The tea is weak but nevertheless the decoration is blue, a kind colour around the room in a choice of chairs, not too small for the back and the leaning yesterday and it is likely that today is a holiday with eggs and coffee. Delicious eating without explaining an accent as food is a language, yes, and no need to explain a carafe of juice with an arrangement of seasonal fruit and a side serving of baker’s crusty snaps. Waiting is lengthening for the bacon and mushrooms if that order is really necessary but if in the eating there is a needed respite, a platter of cheese is there for the tasting, and a declared respect for the cook when the door swings open and a tray of pumpkin soup is strong and mushy with early morning warmth which is a kind of astonishment for tears and fullness and a certain bursting when there is further talk of salmon with a dash of pepper, kind cuts of ham, sausages thick and thin, a breakfast different and pleasanter and certainly there is no surprise waving the chicken away.

Prose poem: Balcony

Balcony

The view is wholesome, somewhere a mountain looking back and the town not far off under weary feet. A balcony is a place of shade an open entrance that shows one way in one way out. A balcony for lovers in a play showing we are all much smaller up there if there is ivy and joy and a caller below. A railing is essential strong and not tardy, it should be solid with a table the colour of dishes an open page with spectacles and even when the room is open a book and spectacles will show that the balcony is not empty. The book rests in its own place and there is victory in the borrowing if the author is not cranky. Changing the table might alter the view to a better side if hot and that could make things better and bigger and if it does not make things bigger, then the outlook is not hindered from not being. Should the view grow smaller near the mountain there could be currency in binoculars a movie in the making or a yodeller imitating the lips of sweet sweet sweet Susie Asado. This is so very charming and harmonious for those sharing if there is pleasure under an awning wine and song. Essential too that the slider remains open to the main room inside and if a corridor leads the way every other room will be headway to the balcony and this shows nearly enough choice at midnight or dawn.

Bedroom

A suitable room for sleeping, well housed, a kind of delightfulness without any complaining if the measurement is right. A window is a wide veil and that means a spectacle of shadows and very likely a verdant view below. An arrangement might be two bedrooms of different colours particularly a purple room with a wise chair for thinking. It is so necessary to sit without custody or betrayal when the mind has no vacancies. In a green room there is nothing wasted on waking only suitable bedding is never white and that means changing with special attention if there is no spring or stream to clean, for cleaning is a tradition of gallons given away. Too much devotion to water means reduction and is not lessening in an age of lessening. The main action is washing wearing renewing and certainly a bedroom is not for eating. It is a soft place for reverie if the mood is right, a right place for dreaming and a good place to order titbits of secrets in repose.

My Novel The Last Asbestos Town ...to be published!

I am listing the steps that have happened towards the publication of my novel The Last Asbestos Town!

Dear Helen,

I read your query and would like to see the complete manuscript for consideration.
You can send it as an attachment in reply to this email.
Kind regards,

Stevan

Stevan V. Nikolic
Editor
Adelaide Books / Adelaide Literary Magazine
244 Fifth Avenue, Suite D27
New York, NY, 10001
office: (917) 477 8984 (Mon. - Fri. 9 AM - 5 PM)
cell: (917) 727 8907editor@adelaidebooks.org
http://adelaidebooks.org
http://adelaidemagazine.org

Dear Helen,

I read your manuscript and would like to publish "The Last Asbestos Town" if you agree with our publishing contract terms. I believe that your book would make a nice addition to Adelaide Books list. Actually, we are in the process of finalizing our publishing calendar for the second quarter of 2020 and if we do a contract now, your book may be scheduled for release somewhere between the beginning of April and the end of June 2020.

We would like to offer you a standard publishing contract where the copyright stays with the author, we cover all costs of book production and marketing and it comes with 20% royalties for the author. You can find more about our contract terms here:

http://adelaidebooks.org/terms_conditions.html

If you agree to these terms, please reply to this email promptly and I will send you a publishing contract to sign and schedule your book release.

Looking forward to hearing back from you.

With Kind Regards,
Stevan V. Nikolic
Editor