15 November 2021

Making An Impact


It may take me a while to respond to comments on today's blog for the best of reasons: I'll be hanging out with readers. The readers are students in Professor Ken Wishnia's Intro to Lit class at SUNY Suffolk, and we'll be talking about my story, "Never Again," in Me Too Short Stories, an anthology I edited. Ken is himself an accomplished crime fiction author, whose anthology, Jewish Noir II, including my story, "The Cost of Something Priceless," will appear early next year. The students are a truly diverse group in age and socioeconomic status as well as ethnicity, race, and gender. Some come from troubled families; many must struggle to achieve a community college education.

"Never Again" is a challenging story. We learn on the first page that Valerie's father abuses her sexually from the age of four. For ten years, her attempts to speak out and get help fail. We also meet Frances, abused by the preacher's son at age nine in her close-knit churchgoing community. She hides her pain in compulsive overeating and obesity and marries an alcoholic who abuses her physically, verbally, and emotionally. Two intolerable situations, one girl, one woman who say, "Never again!" and embark on a collision course. What will happen when they collide?

I've visited Ken's classes, whose students have not only read the story but written a one-page paper on it, several times, both virtually and in person. Ken has said, "These stories [in the Me Too anthology] are the first pieces of fiction to truly come alive on the page for some students." He and I have discussed how academic assignments had changed since our own youth, when Shakespeare and Victorian novels were the norm, and how the first wave of "relevant" reading material, beginning in the Sixties, ran to books like Catcher in the Rye, whose protagonist these students would see as a bored rich white kid with no problems worth mentioning.

Last year, to illustrate the students' visceral response, he shared with me some comments from their papers.

Not a lot of literature has really brought me to tears, but her story had me close to fully crying.
This story had me genuinely tearing up and putting the book down after the first few sentences, which is something that has never happened before.

Sometimes the writing in a story is so good that you physically react and that’s what happened.

Never Again demonstrates the lack of voice that women have when speaking up about sexual abuse. People question why victims exposed to any abuse cannot speak up. These victims want to tell someone that they are suffering, but it is hard for them to confide themselves to someone who will listen to their story.

Do I write in the hope of moving readers this powerfully? You bet I do. Did I write "Never Again" to make an impact? Absolutely. I'm awed and grateful that these young readers were so receptive.

One more comment, from a young man whose opinion I'd rather have than a New York Times reviewer's:

I cant even compare this short story to the others because this one is by far my favorite. By the end of the first page i was instantly hooked, the darkness of this story is absolutely wild. The way how the author describes so specifically the dark twisted things that go on in Valerie's household puts me on the edge of my futon that i was reading this on. The fact that i wanted to rip the father out of the pages and beat him up for touching and treating his daughter like that was a feeling Ive never felt before reading a story.

I can hardly wait to find out what this year's crop of students have to say.

6 comments:

  1. Back from class, where the students asked wonderful questions, ranging from whether I consider myself a modern feminist (from a guy) to why the teenage sexually abused protagonist laughed when she heard her father was dead—a question I tossed right back to them.

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  2. Young people need to read stories like those in the Me Too Anthology, because it's happening every day. And most of them know/are/were somebody who it happened to. They just haven't told an adult yet. I'm glad you're doing this!

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    1. Thanks, Eve. Your story in the anthology is also among those the students in this class are reading and probably writing papers on.

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  3. That's awesome, Liz! I've known three kids who were sexually abused by their stepfathers. When she realized what was happening, the mother of the first kid, a 10-year-old girl, said, "I know it's difficult for him, having a little girl in the house." The mother of the second & third kid, a boy & a girl, said, "Oh, you just don't understand." 😥

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  4. Right, Elizabeth. The students always want to discuss the attitude of the mothers. In my story, the moms of both abused girls accuse their daughters of lying. Today we talked about how powerful the psychological defense of denial is and how unbearable it would be for these women to admit that they’re married to a monster, that their situation on which they may be dependent financially could be threatened, and a variety of other scenarios.

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  5. Understandably so, Liz. Speaking from experience, children can adapt to the monster in the house - but what they can't understand (or adapt to) is the other adult in the house who let the monster do whatever it wanted. That's why people come into Al-Anon weeping because their children are just fine with the addict, but hate THEM for enabling it.

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