Liking Meg Wolitzer’s books a lot, but feeling about a decade too old to really enjoy them fully (as much as I admire their detailed, dense immersive quality) I decided to try her Mom, Hilma Wolitzer.
Here I felt right at home. I love the anecdotal, chatty, ethnic quality of the mother’s work, but it could be my age or reading past.
Thanks for your stories, Hilma, and so many thanks for admitting your characters come to you and tell you their stories. (This in no way discounts your backbreaking writing efforts!)