My children say I’m a person who needs a project. Unable to see friends and staying socially distant from my kids and grandkids, I made my home my project. I became a dedicated house cleaner. In May, after two months of mopping, wiping, washing, disinfecting and endlessly buying new cleaning tools on Amazon, I knew I couldn’t go on like this. I needed an escape. I needed to go back to work.
I recognized how lucky I was to be able to stay home while others couldn’t. On the news, there were families waiting in line for food in 2020 America. It was heartbreaking. What could I do? What can I do? I wondered. That’s when I emailed Steve Martin and asked him if he had time to chat. He wrote back, “I have nothing but time.”
In the meantime, I haven’t lowered my standards. My life may have changed, but I remain the same person, with the same limits. Heel or no heel, I will never, ever wear Crocs.
Three decades on, when Tara develops dementia, the adult Antara takes her into her home. It’s Antara’s internal conflict that forms the novel’s central theme: how do you take care of a mother who once failed to take care of you? Antara examines the question with a self-inspection so unflinching that it makes you catch your breath.
When it debuted in 1917, the novella won praise for its understated, finely-wrought reveal of humanity. In Goossen’s translation, it stands the test of time, simultaneously proving its enduring relevance to the themes of relationships, grief and aging, and as a perfect example of what the I-novel aims to achieve.
I used to know some stars,
now I wake from sleep, I stare