Janet Hulstrand's Blog, page 13

Lockdown Day 7: France Fights to Flatten the Curve

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As I reported in my post last week, halfway measures were not working to keep people in their homes and at least a meter away from each other in France, and so on Monday night President Macron addressed the French nation again. “We are in a war,” he said, several times. And he announced the imposition of much stricter rules concerning confinement.

I suppose that by saying we are at war, he was hoping to use language that, given their history, the French people would understand very well. Of course there is now (happily) a whole generation of French people who are completely out of the living memory of war, and so it is perhaps not surprising that some of them found this language overstated, and somewhat amusing.

But it is not. The world is indeed at war; and this time the enemy is not the army of another country: it is a virus, and it is a threat to everyone in the world.

And so, starting Tuesday at noon, all French citizens (and indeed anyone who is in France) were ordered to stay where they are, until further notice. Anyone moving outside of their home must carry an “Attestation de Déplacement Dérogatoire” explaining the purpose of their being outside. There are five main categories that allow people to (briefly) be outside of their homes,  Basically they are: to do “essential” work (which is designated as essential by the government); to go to the store to buy necessary items (like food, medications, etc.); to receive essential medical care; to care for family members who are in need of assistance, or take children to and from childcare arrangements (for those parents who must work); and to exercise, or to walk one’s dog, but only near one’s home, and only alone.

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One of my sons, who has been working as a teaching assistant in Lille, called me on Sunday night (March 15) and said he’d like to come home. “When should I come?” he asked. “Right away,” I answered. And so he got his train ticket, and he made it here by Monday night, just in time to be able to spend the period of quarantine here with me. The trains were very full, he said.

My other son, who is studying journalism at Sciences Po in Paris, was fortunate to be able to shelter in place at the country home of one of his classmates, in Provence. He and his friends left Paris on Monday morning, along with thousands of other people who decided they would rather be in the country for an undefined period of confinement to their homes than stuck in small apartments in the city–and were lucky enough to be able to do so.

It is indeed, probably much more pleasant to be in the country right now. My friend Adrian, who is emphatically both an urbanite and an extrovert, has described the need to stay inside her apartment as “torture,” and she is a very positive person. (You can read her reports from Paris here.) It was probably particularly difficult for people in the city this past week, when the weather was divine: unseasonably warm, and sunny. Here my son and I were able to take walks across the field near our home, do yard work, and generally enjoy the beautiful weather. Parisians had to stay inside.

But that is what needs to be done, and now everyone, I think, for the most part, “gets it,” and is doing it.

The news from Italy continues to be grim, and heartbreaking. The reports of a continuing rise in the daily death tolls there should certainly help everyone in France (and in many other places around the world who are beginning to proactively respond to this crisis) to know and understand that this period of social distancing is indeed necessary, and in fact critically important.

One of the challenges of this period of confinement, at least for me, is struggling to “keep on upward wing,” and to use this time to remain productive. This is one of my two favorite mantras, a gift of my mother-in-law. It is a bit hard not to wonder, with every little sniffle or cough, whether we are here waiting to be very sick, and maybe even die; or whether we are here waiting to be free once again to move about freely and continue with our lives more or less the way we used to.

My other favorite mantra was a gift from my Uncle Lewey, who frequently said, “Worry less, pray more.” I suppose to some people that phrase may sound glib, and of course the callous habit of the members of a certain political party in the U.S. using the word “prayers” quite cynically has somewhat tainted the whole idea of prayer for lots of people. But remembering those words (and my Uncle Lewey’s kind smile as he said them) always helps me not to panic. And that is a good thing, because neither panicking, nor worrying, has ever improved a situation. Au contraire…

It does seem to me that one of the truths emerging from this period of worldwide worry and confinement is awareness of all the things that we (human beings) actually are pretty good at. Most of us are pretty good at truly caring about each other. I received a text message from my nearest neighbor at the end of the first day of confinement: Bonsoir, Janet, Ca va? it said. We had a pleasant little exchange via text, and agreed that it was too bad we couldn’t have dinner together for now, but that we can at least wave at each other across the road. When I see the lights in her window it makes me feel good to know she is there, and hopefully she gets the same little lift from seeing the lights in our house.

The next day one of our friends in the village offered to pick up groceries for us and their 10-year-old daughter rode her bike over to our house to deliver them. (Two days later, the government included bicycle riding as one of the forbidden activities, so I’m glad she got that bike ride in on a gloriously beautiful day.)

I wondered what the French could possibly do to match, or try to meet, the inspiring phenomenon of Italians singing from their balconies, now that we too are confined to our homes. Probably it was wise not to try to compete with Italians when it comes to singing. What Parisians have been doing, instead, is leaning out of their windows, or standing on their balconies every night at 8 pm and applauding, and shouting “Mercis” to the medical workers who are trudging home at that hour, no doubt exhausted. I hope it helps them to know their work is appreciated. Precious little for the dangerous, difficult work they are doing…

Yesterday the Facebook group that dispenses essential information to Essoyes and the surrounding community proposed that everyone open their windows and blast this video out into the streets at precisely 18:45, as our local version of a way of thanking medical workers, supporting those who are ill, and in general cheering each other up. The administrators of the group also let us know that the bishops of France have requested that  this Wednesday, March 25 at 7:30 p.m. all of the churches in France ring their bells for 10 minutes. I will try to capture that and post a bit of it here if I can…the bells of Essoyes are beautiful (I have written about them before), and this seems to me a very good reason to ring them: to thank those who are caring for the sick and providing emergency services; to give courage who those who are discouraged; and to make us all aware that though we can’t be together in the ways we are used to, we are not really alone…

I’ve been enjoying my friend Lisa Anselmo’s day by day report of the lockdown from Paris. You might enjoy reading it too. Lisa shares her observations, thoughts, fears, and strategies for dealing with the anxieties and challenges that go with this situation in a way that is mostly inspiring–but honest enough not to be superficially so–and with some practical tips that may be helpful for others as well.

How long will this confinement last? Well, no one really knows. It was initially announced as being at least two weeks. It now seems that it will probably be quite a bit longer. This whole experience is providing us all with an excellent opportunity to learn, really absorb the fact that though we sometimes think we know what the future holds, none of us ever really do. So it is good to learn how to live each moment as best as we can, and find a balance between planning for the future and knowing that none of it is guaranteed. Every day is a gift, not to be taken for granted.

Stay well. Stay at home if you’re in a place where they’re telling you to do so. Keep your hands out of your face (no matter where you are), and try to keep on upward wing…

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.”

Locked Down in Essoyes, Le Grand Est

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The Road Ahead (Essoyes). Photo by Janet Hulstrand

 

Hmm. Well it seems that it is time for me to give an update on life in Essoyes again. I am overdue for a post in any case, and this being such an unusual moment in our (global) history, it seems like a pretty good time to do so.

But before I begin, I would like to say one more thing about the global nature of the current challenges we are facing.

The most striking thing to me, really, is that if any of us have ever doubted that we are in fact one human race living a somewhat precarious existence on this beautiful planet of ours; and that we all share fundamental desires, needs, and responsibilities as human beings so blessed; and that we are most certainly “in this together”–now is the time when it should be perfectly clear that we are in fact, all of those things.

So what is it like to be locked down in France because of the coronavirus?

Well, here are some of the things that have changed for me and my family.

My sister and her family have had to postpone their trip to visit me and my sons. They were supposed to be arriving in Paris on Sunday, and we had a wonderful set of activities planned, in Paris, Lille, and Essoyes. Alas, none of it is going to be happening right now. But we are grateful (mainly thanks to the honest, transparent, and proactive reaction of French President Macron to a quickly mounting public health emergency) that we had the information we needed, and we had it soon enough, to make a sound decision about them changing their plan.
My visa renewal appointment has been postponed, since the Prefecture de l’Aube has been closed until further notice. This is in keeping with the French government’s vigorous attempt to slow the spread of the disease, and “flatten the curve,” so that the (excellent) health care services in France can continue to function as well as can be in very challenging circumstances.
Since as of today all French schools have been closed (for the same reason, and also “until further notice”), both of my sons (one of whom is a graduate student in Paris, the other a teaching assistant in Lille) will be not going to school for a while. As a result, I am looking forward to having some unexpected time with them, as we “hunker down” and learn all the intricacies of taking safe preventive measures for avoiding infection; staying where we are; and maintaining social distance.

President Macron’s address to the French came about 24 hours after another president (I will not say his name, it is painful for me to do so) addressed my nation of birth (and citizenship). Unlike that other president’s speech, President Macon’s speech was honest, forthright, informative, and very clear. (In fact he began by saying “I want to be perfectly clear,” and going on to explain that France is in a very serious situation which is bound to get worse before it gets better.)

He was clear about this, but he was also clear that there are things each and every one of us can and must do in order to help better the situation (or at least not make it worse). And he was clear–very clear–that the priority of the French government was, in this order, to: 1) protect the most vulnerable; 2) find ways to slow the spread of the disease; 3) protect those who will suffer economic consequences of the epidemic (which will include paying salaried employees even if they cannot go to work, and also finding ways to provide support to independent workers who are suffering).

Most of all, he was clear about the fact that the priority for the French government is protecting both lives and livelihoods, no matter what that requires. And he was also clear that the French government will work with its European allies to address this challenge in an intelligent, cooperative, unified way.

Of course, this is promising a lot. And, while on the whole I think Macron is doing a pretty good job at a very difficult job, I am well aware that he is not perfect; and that we will have to see how this all turns out before praising him to the heavens. Still. By comparison…

President Macron did not say anything specifically about that other president’s unilateral decision of the day before, to halt all entry of Europeans into the U.S. for 30 days, without even notifying our European allies that he was going to do so. If he had, perhaps more level-headed Western leaders might have pointed out to him that refusing entry to European citizens, but not to U.S. citizens coming from Europe (who had of course been breathing the same air, touching the same surfaces, being coughed on by the same people, and generally being exposed to the same germs as Europeans had been) probably didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

They might also have kindly pointed out to him that a sudden influx of returning Americans might well create dangerous overcrowding in the highly restricted number of airports that travelers from Europe were permitted to pass through, and that this is of course one of the very worst things that could be done in terms of limiting spread of the disease in the United States. (This thought had apparently not occurred to the President of the United States, or to any of his “advisors.” Either that, or they just do not care…)

No, the President of the French Republic did not say anything about all that; but he did make one probably irresistible remark, that germs do not carry passports. Touché

Early Winter Highlights from Essoyes

 

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My favorite Christmas present: a little something for the birds…

It all started in early December, when the village of Essoyes marked the centenary of the death of Pierre-Auguste Renoir. The day was cold, but thankfully also clear and sunny, and a substantial group of villagers, plus visiting dignitaries, along with Emmanuel Renoir, grandson of Claude Renoir, joined Mayor Alain Cintrat in honoring the day by gathering at the great painter’s grave and placing a bouquet of flowers there. We all then proceeded to the garden of the restored Renoir home, where a commemorative tree was planted. Then it was on to the salle polyvalente for brief speeches by the mayor, the visiting dignitaries, and Emmanuel Renoir. And of course, for a celebratory toast of champagne.

A few days later I was pleased to discover that our local Casino food market was selling Christmas trees. Not wanting to get sap all over my car, I decided to haul it home by foot, the way I had done last year with no problem.

Hah! Some Christmas trees are heavier and more cumbersome than others, even when they are not necessarily taller than others. This is what I learned, the hard way.

I won’t go into the details of my laborious 1.8 km trek home: suffice it to say that I had stop every few steps and rest; and that this tree (unlike the last one) was not put-on-my-shoulder-able, which made the whole thing much more difficult. I’m pretty sure that my determined trek through the village with this cumbersome little tree probably added to local opinion that I am either very strong and resourceful (une débrouillarde?), or very foolish, and perhaps a bit crazy. Probably both.

Often when I am walking home through the village I am offered a ride by a friendly neighbor; I almost always decline, because walking is my main form of exercise, and I need it. I suppose I would have declined this time also, because of the sap issue; unless I had been lucky enough to have a friend with a pickup truck drive by.

However, I did not have that kind of luck that day. I was offered help by a kind woman who had a handcart she offered to loan me, but by that time I was nearly home and a light rain was beginning to fall so I didn’t want to trouble her and also (I admit it) I was feeling, rather stubbornly, that if I had gotten this far on my own…

The only other detail worth sharing is that at one point (the point at which the rain was turning from gentle to a little more robust), one of the buttons of my coat was snagged by the nasty plastic mesh that was confining the branches of the tree. When I found myself forced to one knee to try to free myself from the mesh (and the tree, of course), I considered the possibility that having refused that kind offer of assistance had perhaps been a mistake. But too late!

My arms are not long enough to have been able to take a picture of me and the tree together when I finally arrived home, so this picture will have to suffice. Trust me: that tree was bigger than it looks here, and it was a pain to carry home. But I did it!

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My pesky not-so-little tree

I do think that perhaps that will be the last Christmas tree I buy. I have been rethinking the whole matter of Christmas trees as a result of having joined my friend David Downie’s Tree Club on Facebook. (Until recently, I have believed that trees raised for being Christmas trees meant that there is no harm in buying them; but apparently the matter is a bit more complicated than that. And there is, of course, that nasty plastic mesh they wrap the trees in, which is not at all earth-friendly…)

Soon after, holiday decorations began to appear in Essoyes. Of course they are very cheerful and pretty, and I’m grateful to those villagers, and to the village staff for brightening the dark month of December in such a way. I must confess, though, to having the same curiosity about French Santa decorations that most Americans have. (These are the things we wonder: Why is Santa hanging from the water spout, shouldn’t he be up on the roof? Is he stuck there? Is anyone going to help him? And where are the reindeer?)

Then there was the whirl of Christmas itself, and New Year’s. I was very happy this year to have my whole family with me here for Christmas. We were having such a nice time together that you will have to just picture for yourself the festive meal, the chilled glasses of superb local champagne made by our friends and neighbors at Champagne Nathalie Nourrisat, and the creamy, wonderful buche de Noel made by our local patissier. Trust me: it was all quite delicious. But we didn’t take pictures of any of it.

New Years was quiet, which is precisely the way I like New Years to be. (After all, it is really just a question of moving from one day to the next, is it not? Don’t we do that every day? And–more importantly–haven’t we really celebrated the season enough by now? Isn’t time to hibernate a bit? Do we really have to have another very late night with lots of champagne and too much food, only a week after the last time we did that?)

Well, anyway, that is the way I feel about New Years. (It’s not very French of me…)

What I do love, however, is the annual tradition in Essoyes, in which the mayor invites the village sometime in early January, to welcome the New Year, and to accept his voeux (good wishes) in the salle polyvalente, which is a community gathering place. Part of the tradition is the mayor’s brief report of the highlights of accomplishments of the past year and challenges and plans for the coming year. This year was poignant, because after 40 years of service to the community, and 20 years as mayor, Mayor Alain Cintrat announced officially that he will not be running for mayor again. And so there were tears in a few eyes as he recapped some of the things he and the municipal team had accomplished during his years as mayor. Then he was presented with a medal of honor from the village, and his wife was presented with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Being mayor of a French village brings with it heavy and more or less constant responsibilities: this is not always fully appreciated by everyone. Also, much like being First Lady, the wife of the mayor is also very much in a role of public service. Truly the Cintrats have given so much to this community: and expressions of gratitude and appreciation for all they have done is the least we can do for them.

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After the speeches, there was champagne (By now, I shouldn’t have to tell you that, right?) And tasty morsels of galette, the traditional almond-filled pastry that is made for the celebration of Epiphany (the twelfth, and final, day of Christmas) were served to the adults by children of the village.

Then convivial conversation continued between friends and neighbors until it was politely hinted that it was time for us to go home, by someone flicking the lights and off. Whereupon we eased our way out into the darkness, still chatting. And the darkness was still lit, for the moment, with a bit of holiday cheer…

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There will be more to come soon: in the meantime,  meilleurs voeux pour la nouvelle année, à toutes et à tous! 

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.”

Bonne Nouvelle Année d’Essoyes! (2020)

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Tonight is one of the most important holidays of the year in France, as people gather to celebrate le reveillon of the New Year.

It is a night to enjoy fine food, champagne, fireworks, friends, families….in short, life!

May you enjoy seeing in the New Year wherever you are.

Wishing you all good things in 2020.

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.”

 

 

Thanksgiving in France (2019)

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Thanksgiving is my favorite American holiday, and I am certainly not alone in this sentiment. Americans around the world tend to carry a passionate fondness for Thanksgiving with them wherever they go, and they have a habit of introducing their friends in other countries to the special traditions, foods, and ways of celebrating it. (A few years ago, I wrote about how Americans in Paris celebrate Thanksgiving for Bonjour Paris here.)

In France, enthusiasm for Thanksgiving–shared with locals by Americans abroad, but also often by French people who have lived in the United States or been otherwise exposed to it–has created more awareness of it than one might expect. The first time I was here for Thanksgiving, a few years ago, I had not thought about making a Thanksgiving meal. (To be honest, I am not much of a cook, and though I love going to Thanksgiving meals, I am much more comfortable in the role of bringing the sweet potatoes, or the cornbread, or the cranberry sauce, than in the role of hosting it. So to be honest (again), in a way I was feeling a bit relieved that that year I could just skip the whole thing.)

However, to my surprise, one day my friend Rosanna (who is French) out of the blue exclaimed with delight, “Oh, you will be here for le Thanksgiving!” (“How do you even know about Thanksgiving?” I asked, stalling for time to think of how to respond more appropriately…)

Well. Rosanna reads a lot, and that is how she knew.

And so. I could see that it was my turn again: it was time for me to step up once more, and host a Thanksgiving meal. (Fortunately, Rosanna is a wonderful cook, and the meal we prepared was very much a joint effort.)

I’ve celebrated several more Thanksgivings in Essoyes since then, some in my home, some in the homes of others, and they’ve all been a nice mix of French and American guests, and sometimes friends from other places as well. (This year the two Thanksgiving celebrations I was lucky to enjoy included British friends from a nearby village, and a German grad school classmate of one of my sons.)

For Americans abroad, one of the most delightful aspects of these celebrations is the opportunity to share the history of Thanksgiving (as well as some of the myths surrounding it) with our friends from other countries. The questions they ask can lead to a variety of interesting conversations, or sometimes just surprising bits of knowledge gained, both for the Americans and for the others. (For example, one question that was asked this year was “Why is it always celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November?” My answer? “Because Abraham Lincoln said so.” (Here’s more on that, by the way…)

Since the fourth Thursday of November in France is simply the fourth Thursday in November, most Thanksgiving celebrations here take place either on the weekend before, or more commonly the weekend after the actual day. This year I was really happy to be able to celebrate with both of my sons, since they are both currently living in France. Their German friend is named Felix: it was his first celebration of an American Thanksgiving, and his curiosity about and enjoyment of it was delightful. One of his questions was about what people usually do in the morning on Thanksgiving Day. I told him that varies a lot, it’s not the same for everyone; but that it usually involves lots of cooking; and that what I often did was watch the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television, while I prepared the stuffing for the turkey. When my son added that there are giant balloons that are carried through the streets of New York during the parade, Felix’s response made us all smile: “Oh I know about that from the Spiderman movie!” he said.)

Because I took the reins of planning the meal more aggressively this time than the first time I hosted Thanksgiving in France (I tried to tell Rosanna that first year that you really don’t have to have a cheese course with a Thanksgiving meal, it just isn’t part of what we do, but she wasn’t having any of that...). So this time we started the meal at a more typical starting time for a Thanksgiving meal, 4 pm. (Which is emphatically not a typical starting time for a meal in France.) As a matter of fact, as we all sat down to our first course, a pumpkin/sweet potato/carrot soup, Rosanna remarked in a tone that was not at all disapproving, but was nonetheless more or less incredulous, “I’ve never had soup at this time of day before…” This struck me as amusing, but later in the week I read an article in France Amérique which mentioned in passing that indeed one of the strangest things for the French about Thanksgiving meals is the hour at which they begin.

We had a lovely meal with many courses, including a cheese course this time. (By now I too have become fond enough of French cheeses to not want to skip something so perfectly perfect. And how else are you supposed to prepare for dessert, anyway?)

This year, thanks to a very brave and generous French friend who had been wanting to host a special meal of sanglier (wild boar) for a few of us for nearly a year, and never had been able to find the right time came up with the idea that maybe she should host a Thanksgiving meal–on the actual day! “Could we eat wild boar on Thanksgiving, instead of turkey?” she wondered. “Of course we can!” I said. (I have stated quite clearly in my book that Americans are very flexible people, and I thought this presented an excellent opportunity to prove it.)

And so it was that last night, after a very pleasant hour or so of chatter and hor d’oeuvres and champagne, we all sat down to a beautiful table and, after a seafood entrée, we feasted on wild boar prepared by our French hosts, with side dishes of sweet potatoes and green beans.

Our hostess had graciously agreed to let my silly (and historically inaccurate) poster board Pilgrims watch over the meal from their mantel, and she invited me to read one of my favorite Thanksgiving poems aloud.

Afterward there was delicious apple crumble, and pecan pie. And more champagne of course.

And through it all, there was lively and amiable conversation, once or twice veering dangerously close to those political topics that seem to be both irresistible and best resisted at Thanksgiving meals, but never crossing the line. Pshew!

Interview with Jane S. Gabin, Author of “The Paris Photo”

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Jane Gabin is a native New Yorker. She earned her BA at Queens College of the City University of New York and her PhD in English from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. As an independent scholar, she has participated in numerous academic conferences and lectured extensively in the United States and abroad, spending considerable time in England and France. An experienced teacher and educational counselor, she has taught at the high school, college, and lifelong learning levels. She taught most recently at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Duke University. She is a member of the Victorian Society of New York and the Alliance Francaise. She has published three  books with university presses–two on 19th century expatriate American women, and one on the musical career of the poet Sidney Lanier. “The Paris Photo,” which was inspired by the author’s discovery of a photo in her father’s papers after his death, is her first novel. This interview was conducted via email in November, 2019. 

Janet: What made you want to write this book? What was most challenging about it? And what was most rewarding?

Jane: I didn’t immediately say to myself, “Now this would make a great book!” I basically wanted to learn something new about my father. Who were the people in this photograph that I had found in his papers? Why were they important enough to warrant a group photograph? And why didn’t he ever show me this picture while he was alive? Aroused by curiosity, I first had to try to find the subjects of the portrait. I reasoned that since my father was gone, the other adults in the picture were likely also gone. So I concentrated on finding the boy. I realized that the chances of ever finding him, more than 60 years after this picture was taken, were slim.

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This is “the Paris photo.” S/Sgt Al Gabin visiting a French family in the spring of 1945.

But, unbelievably, I found him! Then I had two more challenges: to learn French, enough to communicate with my new friend. And to answer his question: Why didn’t we ever hear from your father after he left Paris? So for the first couple of years after my discovery, my discoveries were purely personal, and related to my need to learn more about my Dad.

While researching this, I had to discover more of the Parisian background. I must have read almost everything in English about civilian life in Paris under the Nazis. And then I roamed the streets of Paris, finding those memorial plaques every few blocks. I reached out to the Memorial de la Shoah, learned more there, and started to make connections with the Jewish community in Paris. Two years later, I had learned enough to present a paper on American soldiers and French civilians at a conference of the European Association of Jewish Studies, which met at the Ecole Normale Superieure. I began to think in terms of a novel some time after that. I knew I had a story to tell, but it was much more than just “a” story.

What was challenging was the decision of what to reveal and what to cloak as fiction. I decided that I wanted to change certain things. For example, there was that mystery of why my father never got in touch with the family he befriended after he left Paris. I could imagine why, but I could not know for sure. Also, I felt that by converting this to an “inspired by” fictional narrative, I had the freedom to inject certain other things.

The reception by readers has been the most rewarding thing.

Janet: How did you do the research for this book; what were your sources? And how long did you take to write it?

Jane: I did three different kinds of research: the armchair variety; talking to many people and hearing many talks; and exploring the streets of Paris. The research took about five or six years, and by that time I had decided upon the novel form. It took a year to write the first draft, and then it was edited, and I made changes, and it was edited again and I did another draft.

There is a bibliography in the book; there are many great sources for a description of civilian life in Paris during the Occupation. I saw photos of the food queues, for example, and read about them as well. I read about the Germans’ many rules for French citizens, and their longer list of rules for Jewish citizens. In New York, I heard French sociologist Sarah Gensburger speak about the labor camp within Paris itself – where all property stolen from Jewish apartments whose residents was deported was sorted. I also spoke with Professor Ron Rosbottom about his book, When Paris Went Dark, which was published in 2014.

There is a wonderful library at the Memorial de la Shoah, where I researched not only general topics, but specific information on the father and grandfather of my character Guy, who is based on the boy my father had befriended. I went to Drancy, where the Memorial has a branch museum, and explored the workers’ housing complex that was used as a prison during the Occupation. The door to the building where Guy’s father was held was standing open – so I went in.

And then, of course, there are all the memorial plaques on the streets, in courtyards, in front of schools. That told me an enormous amount about the reach of the Germans. And you know how doorways in Paris are usually locked? The door of the building where Guy and his family lived at the time my father visited was unlocked. Again, I went in to explore. Eventually, I was stopped by the concierge who wanted to know my business. I explained, in French, that my father had been an American soldier in WWII and had visited a family in this building. I didn’t even have to finish my speech – she immediately smiled and welcomed me to look around. People still remember that the Americans helped liberate the city.

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The author with “Guy.” She now returns to Paris every year to visit him.

Janet: You went about learning French quite late in life, simply in order to be able to solve the mystery at the heart of this story. Do you have any advice for others who are determined (for whatever reason) to learn a foreign language, and perhaps specifically to learn French, at an older age?

Jane: Ideally, one learns another language during the school years, and because of this, Spanish falls out of my mouth much more readily than French. But I had no choice: I had to learn French because “Guy” speaks very little English.

This is how I tackled needing to learn French quickly: my friend Sue gave me the Rosetta Stone program. Because its teaching is auditory, I started picking up the accent right away. After six months of study, I was confident enough to go into a shop or a library and say basic things. Naturally, I have an American accent and people can tell that I am having difficulty, because I am certainly not fluent. And I am better at reading than speaking, of course. If I could ever stay in France longer than three weeks, I would improve so much!

My advice would be to start with a program like Rosetta Stone, practice in a French-speaking group, and then go to France for 6 months. Listen to the radio, watch French films, and stay away from anyone speaking English!

Janet: What do you hope readers will take away from the story you tell in “The Paris Photo”?

I hope they will see that all actions have consequences, whether they are immediate or happen decades later. This is true both of small stories, and the larger ones. My father’s actions in Paris resulted in certain behaviors in “Guy” and in me. The Holocaust is the larger story, and its consequences are still being felt today; and they affect the behavior and the mindset not only of survivors, but of the next generation and the one after that.

When I began my search for the boy in the photo, France was – it seemed to me – a country with its share of problems, just like any other nation. By the time my book was published, there had been the Charlie Hebdo killings, the Hypercacher attack, and the murder of Sarah Halimi. The increase of anti-Jewish activities in France, and elsewhere, is indicative of a society in deep trouble. I would also hope that readers share my concerns and remain vigilant.

Janet: What are you working on now?

Jane: Another story set in – surprise! – Paris, and another one set in Manhattan. Plus a collection of short stories.

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.”

Jane Gabin is the author of “The Paris Photo.” More information about the book is available here. 

A few wonderful days in Paris…

 

Every once in a while I am lucky enough to spend a few days in Paris. And I’ve just gotten back from one of those times. I thought in this post I would capture some of the moments I enjoyed, in hopes that they will bring vicarious enjoyment to others as well. And perhaps give information that will lead to others more fully enjoying Paris the next time you’re there.

The first day I was there there was a man playing “Besame mucho” on his guitar in the Metro, accompanied by music coming from a speaker he was wheeling along with him. This man’s fingers were quite bent and disfigured, but it didn’t keep him from playing beautifully. That was a pretty nice welcome to Paris.

That night I went with my friend Adrian Leeds (and about 76 other people) to celebrate the 86th birthday of a much beloved American in Paris, Jim Haynes, who has been opening the doors to his home every Sunday night to anyone who is in town and who makes a reservation. It is a place to gather with people from around the world for a few hours, meet new people, and eat good food. Jim’s salon is a wonderful tradition that has led to countless new friendships being formed, and various other developments, including a recent documentary produced by several people who met at one of his soirées. It is called “Meeting Jim” and you can watch the trailer here.

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Jim Haynes and Adrian Leeds at his 86th birthday party. They really should cheer up, don’t you think? (Photo by Patty Sadauskas)

The next morning, as I was working on the fourth floor of the building in the Marais where I was staying, I heard a man working his way down the street playing “I Did It My Way” on his trumpet. Looking out the window, I saw someone hurry over to him and reach into his pocket for change. The next tune the trumpeter played was very different, upbeat and folksy. But he stopped suddenly in the middle of that tune, and I heard a voice call out something from a window somewhere down the street. A request? In any case the trumpeter now went back to a more moody tune as he slowly worked his way away down the street, and out of my hearing. Another nice musical interlude…

That night I attended a meeting of the writers group I am able to join whenever I’m in Paris at the right time. It’s a very friendly, supportive group of writers, and the organizer is kind enough to allow me this privilege. It is always a convivial gathering, and there’s something very nice about being able to spend a couple of hours with a group of people who are all dealing with problems similar to the ones you are dealing with, whether they are literary problems or more practical ones. Writers are not always supportive of each other, but this group is, and in general I have found the American literary community in Paris to be very friendly and supportive. (Take note, writers elsewhere: it can be done, there’s nothing to lose in it, and it makes life so much more pleasant!)

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Adrian Leeds and Edith de Belleville getting ready for Apres Midi.

The next day I was able to attend Adrian’s monthly “Apres Midi” meet-up at the Café de la Mairie on the rue de Bretagne. Whenever I am in Paris on the second Tuesday of the month, I attend this gathering: sometimes I even travel all the way from Champagne to come in just for the day to hear a friend speak, or to learn about something new that I just don’t want to miss.

This time I had lunch in the café before the meetup, and I must say, the pluma de cochon, accompanied with a purée of sweet potatoes and a glass of Côte du Rhone, was delicious.

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Pluma de Cochon: Jamon Iberico with pureed potatoes (Cafe de la Mairie)

Then it was time to settle in and spend an enjoyable couple of hours visiting with the other attendees and listening to the very intelligent, witty, and vivacious Edith de Belleville, author of “Belles et Rebelles: a l’ombre des grandes parisiennes” tell us about her book. You can read more about her presentation here.

After Apres Midi, I crossed the river by bus, and stopped at the Red Wheelbarrow bookstore to say hello to one of the world’s most wonderful booksellers, Penelope Fletcher, who is doing a great job of selling my book (thank you, Penelope!!!)  Then I walked along the Blvd. St. Michel to Montparnasse, to have dinner with two dear friends I hadn’t seen in a while. One of them is Gary Lee Kraut, who is the editor of the online magazine, France Revisited, which has published some of the articles I’m most proud of. If you don’t know about this publication already, you should! It is a wonderful source of information for “the savvy traveler” who is interested in learning more about France. Here’s the link to one of my articles about Essoyes that was published there.

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My fellow panelists, from left to right: Linda Brimm, Janaki Challa, Nicole Tamer, and myself.

Finally, on Wednesday, it was time for the main reason I was in Paris in the first place this month. I was invited to be a panelist at a discussion about expatriate life held at a wonderful institution, the American Library in Paris. The discussion was organized and moderated by Janaki Challa, whose experiences as a “third culture” kid were the main impetus for her creation of this event. The room was packed, and a lively Q&A session followed the panel discussion. An intellectually stimulating evening!

The next morning, after breakfast with my son and one of his best friends, who is visiting Paris, it was back to Essoyes, where the palette has changed from the bright colors of mid-autumn to the more somber pre-Thanksgiving tones of mid-November. And they are lovely too.

I was not able to go to the newly opened Museum of the Liberation during this visit, but I want to mention it for anyone who is reading this post and who may be in Paris sometime soon. I have heard that it is wonderful; it is free; and for anyone who wants to know more about this incredibly important moment in the history of Paris, I am quite sure it is a must-see.

I’ll be back in Paris next week, this time for a quick turnaround visit so that I can see a show curated by literally my “oldest” friend in the world. (We met in the hospital when we were born just two days apart from each other, and our mothers shared a hospital room

Autumn in Champagne

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Champagne is beautiful at any time of year (well, there are periods that some people find rather bleak, but to me it is always beautiful).

But some parts of the year are more beautiful than others. Often as I am driving around this part of the world my breath is taken away by the beauty of the landscape. Most of the time I don’t get to take pictures of it, though, because a) I am driving; and b) it is hard to find safe places to pull the car aside on the rather narrow country roads with their also-narrow shoulders.

This week I was privileged to be able to visit friends who have recently moved to a town near Essoyes (Bar sur Aube), and to go with them for a drive into the hills outside of town to revel in the fall colors.

Here are just a few pictures to share with you some of that beauty.

I hope you are enjoying autumn wherever you are…more soon…

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.” 

 

Champagne in Autumn

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Champagne is beautiful at any time of year (well, there are periods that some people find rather bleak, but to me it is always beautiful).

But some parts of the year are more beautiful than others. Often as I am driving around this part of the world my breath is taken away by the beauty of the landscape. Most of the time I don’t get to take pictures of it, though, because a) I am driving; and b) it is hard to find safe places to pull the car aside on the rather narrow country roads with their also-narrow shoulders.

This week I was privileged to be able to visit friends who have recently moved to a town near Essoyes (Bar sur Aube), and to go with them for a drive into the hills outside of town to revel in the fall colors.

Here are just a few pictures to share with you some of that beauty.

I hope you are enjoying autumn wherever you are…more soon…

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divid es her time between the U.S. and France.  She is the author of  Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You,  and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “ A Long Way from Iowa.” 

 

Interview with Mary Ellin Lerner, Author of Sober Heart: Reflections on Life and Love in Recovery

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Mary Ellin Lerner is a journalist, blogger and author of the recently-published Sober Heart, a delightful collection of essays, meditations, and musings on her sometimes difficult, often amusing, always honest and heartfelt, and ultimately successful road to recovery from addiction. She is also a devoted mother, a dog-lover, a singer, and a very good friend. She recently agreed to answer my questions about her road to recovery, and her new book, which can be purchased at the wonderful Politics & Prose bookstore in Washington, D.C. (And can be mail-ordered from them by clicking her e .) Our interview, which follows, was conducted via e-mail.  

Janet: Can you describe briefly how you realized you were addicted and that you needed help? Was there one crystal-clear moment of truth? Or was it more an evolving awareness? Once you knew you needed to do something, how did you take your first steps toward recovery? 

Mary Ellin: I think my awareness of my own addiction was a gradual thing. For years I had been a moderate drinker; indeed there were years when I drank very little at all. And then in my late 40s I began to notice that I was drinking every night, the amounts were increasing, I was becoming dependent on the feeling of being high every night, and alcohol was having a debilitating effect on me mentally and physically. So basically I was moving from what was considered acceptable drinking in our drink-friendly society and what was physically and emotionally manageable for me to a level of drinking that was not acceptable, because it made me unable to function very well. And it was more than I could handle both physically and emotionally. At that point I was consuming almost two bottles of wine a night.

I have a dear friend who passed away recently who used to call me a “white wine lady.” He was someone who drank hard liquor alcoholically in large amounts for almost forty years, and he would tease me about not being a very impressive alcoholic. But it isn’t about the flavor or the amount. It’s about the fact that you can’t stop, and you can feel the substance taking over your life, and hurting you and those around you.

As far as needing help goes, I never went to inpatient treatment. I guess I was just shy of being an extreme case, or what they call a “low bottom” alcoholic or addict. I walked into an AA meeting in the summer of 2010 and started going regularly. For some reason at first I didn’t quite understand that complete abstinence was required for sobriety to work, but I figured it out eventually. In June 2011, I stopped drinking completely, and have not had a drink since. I don’t know why it is but once you have crossed over into addictive and debilitating daily drinking it’s very difficult to go back to moderate consumption. You tend to pick up at the same level you left off and that’s not moderate drinking; it’s a relapse, unfortunately.

Janet: What do you think is the hardest thing about becoming sober? And about staying sober?

Mary Ellin: I think the hardest thing about becoming sober—and a lot of those struggles are described in my book—is reprogramming yourself to live without the crutch of alcohol (and of course the same thing applies to drugs or addictive behaviors like gambling or overeating).

What I mean by that is that whatever you are using alcohol for, psychologically or physically, has to be addressed in some other way. So if you are muting certain feelings, or coping with certain situations by becoming high, you have to figure out how to handle those situations and those feelings differently. You may end up, as I did, having to face a lot of uncomfortable situations and feelings in your life, and make some adjustments if you can no longer cope with X or Y because you could only handle it when drunk. You have to be able to live in a more honest fashion, in a way that is truer to who you are and what you feel, when you don’t have the alcohol or drugs to change your behavior or falsify your feelings. And beyond becoming more honest, you have to face a lot of your own character defects. AA recovery is all about owning up to one’s own part in various situations, and if that means working on your own shortcomings, you have to work on them.

The hardest thing about staying sober is once in a while you just get plain old nostalgic for a glass of wine or champagne because not all of your drinking associations are negative. Most drinkers find that they have pleasant memories of alcohol, especially from early in their drinking careers. I certainly have fond memories of sitting around the table with family and friends, drinking wine and enjoying the feeling of being pleasantly high or relaxed. Sometimes I wish I could go back to those times and that kinder, gentler relationship with alcohol. But because I took it to another level, even if I was just “a white wine lady,” I don’t want to risk escalating to that bad, addicted place again, so I don’t drink at all, even when sorely tempted. It says in the AA literature that “half measures availed us nothing,” and I agree with that. You can’t be partially sober.

Another thing that is tough about giving up alcohol is that it definitely puts a crimp in your social life, and I am not just talking about losing drinking buddies. A lot of people find you a lot less desirable to be around, or hesitate to invite you over if you don’t drink. Not real friends, but those more superficial friends who may have invited you into their social circle because you were amusing at parties, or whatever. You lose some of those people. And you have to explain to all of your drinking friends, the ones that do stick around, that you don’t mind them drinking in front of you. That you are capable of spending an evening at their home if they are having alcohol (especially after a few years in sobriety), and that you are not judging them or looking down on them when they drink.

Once you get past those misunderstandings it is easier socially. I once had friends show up at my house for dinner already drunk because they did not think I would allow them to drink wine at my table, when of course I would. I don’t want to put myself at risk for relapse by being around people who are drinking heavily, but light social drinking does not bother me, and I certainly don’t judge those who engage in it.

It is also very challenging to your dating life. I became sober as a single middle-aged woman who had been dating for a few years, and my dating life stopped when I stopped drinking. To be honest, I have found in exploring dating websites that men—even those who are sober—tend to prefer to date women who are able to loosen up on the date with a glass or two of wine—or at least it seems that way from the preferences they note on their profiles. I do understand this. Culturally it is assumed that dates will be helped along by alcohol or weed. But it is challenging. And I also think, to be completely honest, that I was quite dependent on alcohol to embolden me socially. I am going to have to learn to reach out romantically without it. I wish someone would set up an online dating site exclusively for sober people. It would be interesting to see how that went.

Janet: What is the best thing about being sober? How has being sober enriched your life? 

Mary Ellin: The best part about being sober, first of all, and most immediately, is that it improved my physical health enormously to give up drinking. Not just the stuff you hear at a medical appointment—your blood pressure and your blood sugar, and other things that can be elevated by consuming much too much wine—but an overall sense of physical wellbeing that you experience when you are not assaulting your body with drunkenness and hangovers on a daily basis.

But I think for me the most enduring gift of sobriety, and the one that keeps on giving, is that with AA recovery there is a lot of emphasis on becoming a better person: less selfish, more giving, kinder and humbler, more thoughtful, a better listener, more patient. It has really helped me in my relationships with the people in my life, and with the world in general. I am incredibly grateful for the way in which recovery, and the principles of 12-step sobriety, have encouraged me to behave better. Also, in my case being sober was literally a lifesaver for my son, whom I was able to help when he became addicted first to prescribed painkillers and then to heroin, which almost cost him his life. Ultimately it was Ben’s own courage and resolve that brought him into treatment and allowed him to stay there long enough to get well; but I think I was able to help him initially by taking him to AA meetings and supporting his efforts to recover from addiction.

Another aspect of being sober that has enormous appeal to me is that AA recovery is a spiritual program: it emphasizes getting in touch with some spiritual entity beyond oneself, which works wonders with the selfishness, egotism, self-pity, and grandiosity that are part of alcoholism. AA does not advocate any specific organized religion or a specific definition of God…but each member of the group is encouraged to define a “Higher Power” for him or herself. I have always been a believer in some sort of spiritual force, so I am very happy to have been encouraged to look at life that way.

Finally, the recovery journey has given me, as a writer, a wonderful experience to document. There is a lot to write about in the experience of trying to give up alcohol and to endure daily life without a crutch while simultaneously trying to be a better person. The experience has joy and sadness and silliness and a great deal of humor in it (it is not at all stoic and boring and grim), as you can see in my book.

Janet: You have found Alcoholics Anonymous to be very helpful to you in your journey toward sobriety. Do you think AA offers the best road to recovery for everyone? Or are there other paths that can be helpful too?

Mary Ellin: For me, AA worked. And millions of other people, literally millions, have found relief from all kinds of suffering through AA. There are twelve-step programs for alcohol, drugs, overeating, overspending, negative and neurotic relationships (such as codependency), family problems (for example, the adult children of alcoholics), sexual issues, and on and on. But one of the traditions of AA is that it is a program of “attraction, not promotion.” AA does not advertise or market itself to people. It is all through word of mouth. And AA would never claim that it is the best or only program for everyone.

The reason it works for so many people, I think, is that first of all it is free of charge and widely available. If you are suffering from an addiction or a compulsion, you can walk off the street into an AA meeting, or find one online, without making an appointment or going through any other kind of fuss. It is just there, open and welcoming. Another factor that I think works for a lot of people is that it is a group of other alcoholics or addicts who understand exactly what you are going through; not some doctor or specialist talking down to you. I think there is a lot of credibility, inspiration and comfort built into that. And the twelve steps themselves are a pretty great antidote to drinking, since they involve looking to a spiritual force beyond oneself, taking responsibility for one’s own part in things, and focusing on helping others. All of this encourages alcoholics to get outside of themselves and their feelings of self-pity, and their own pain.

But does it work for everyone? Not necessarily. Some people have a hard time feeling inspired and strengthened by the spiritual side of AA because they are atheist or agnostic, or bitter about the religion in which they were raised. And even with the idea of defining one’s own Higher Power, they still find there is too much talk of God for their comfort. There are other approaches to recovery out there and anyone can research those online–we are blessed nowadays with a variety of inpatient and outpatient treatment programs, some of which include AA meetings, and others that do not. The main thing is to do the research, ask around, and find help for you or your loved one. The good news is that help and hope are out there.

Janet: You’ve recently published a book about your journey through recovery, to sobriety.  It’s called Sober Heart, and I think it’s wonderful. How did you come up with the idea to publish this book? And who is the audience for it, do you think?  Is there helpful wisdom for people who are not necessarily addicted, or in recovery?

Mary Ellin: The book developed gradually. I guess the true origins were in my childhood when my parents, both writers, taught me that challenging or disappointing experiences can be turned into great stories. They were always saying to me, “That would make a fabulous short story,” or “That would be a great article.” I have been a professional writer since college, writing for newspapers and magazines. Then, about ten years ago, when I realized that the writing business had packed up and moved onto the Internet, I decided to try my hand at the relatively new (back then) medium known as blogging. I was a little shy about writing in the first person because my favorite professor at journalism school had told me that I should never write anything in the first person until or unless I became “somebody.” I never did become “somebody” according to her definition, so I guess it was a rebellion of sorts to embark on first-person blogging.

Another source of inspiration, oddly enough, came from my adventures in online dating.  While I was not hugely successful at cyber-romance—I never met my One and Only—I did get a lot of compliments on the way I had written my profile. A lot of guys told me they liked my writing, and liked the way I wrote about relationships. So I thought, well, maybe I should give up on dating and just become a first-person writer. Thus my blog about relationships and recovery was born. And I have been doing that for about nine or ten years now. Every once in a while I change the name and the focus of the blog but they are all first-person stories, and they are all about recovery in some way.

My latest blog is called Sober Words: Reflections on the Language of Recovery. In the past decade, I probably have written close to 200 posts. So a couple of years ago, I decided to choose the best ones, rewrite and polish them, and then thread them together into a memoir of my life and my relationships as a woman in recovery.

The audience for my book? I hope that my stories will appeal to women and men in recovery. I certainly am grateful for a lot of the positive feedback I have gotten on my blog posts from my sober sisters and brothers; but I also hope the book will have appeal to anyone who likes reading first-person essays by women writers or writers in general. A lot of my readers tell me that they think I am funny, for which I am grateful. I would like to think that I have the ability to amuse people. I do like to be able to laugh at my foibles and my experiences, and hope I can share with my readers the silliness and absurdity I experience. (Yes, even as a sober person, life is pretty funny at times.)

Other people say they find the stories touching or comforting, and I am certainly glad if my stories are able to help them in some way. That’s a big part of recovery, being helpful to others, and since writing is what I do, writing is my best hope for being a useful human being.

Janet: Do you have any general advice that could be helpful to someone who is hovering on the brink…thinking they need help with an addiction, but is hesitant to ask for it? What would you say to such a person? 

Mary Ellin: While I am not a medical expert, and my book is not a medical or addiction advice book, my basic advice to anyone who is concerned about addiction–whether it is yourself or a loved one–would be the following:

First of all, if you or a loved one are in an emergency, or in despair, or in an extreme physical situation, get yourself or your loved one to a hospital. Call 911 immediately!

If your addiction concerns for yourself or your loved one are serious but not a life-threatening emergency, consider getting yourself or your loved one into a treatment program of one month or longer. There are many treatment programs to choose from in the U.S. and worldwide, and there are many online clearinghouses with helpful information. Calling your local branch of Narcotics Anonymous or Alcoholics Anonymous can be helpful, because those groups will have many members who have been in rehab and can offer suggestions for good programs near you. Also, there may be people in your community who have been in treatment or have had loved ones in treatment. If you are comfortable reaching out to those people, they can be a good source of recommendations for treatment. (I would add, as the mother of a drug addict now in recovery, many, if not most, parents are eager to share treatment options and suggestions with others.) But the greatest variety of information will be found online, so that might be a good place to start.

If you have a nagging suspicion that you may have a problem with alcohol or drugs, but you are not sure, I would recommend, especially to people troubled by alcohol consumption, that you start by contacting your local chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous. Narcotics abuse accelerates pretty quickly to a bad situation requiring inpatient treatment, but if it has not gotten to that point, a call to Narcotics Anonymous can be helpful.

Whether you need immediate advice, or want to just visit a meeting, there are phone numbers and websites where you can get advice 24/7. Call a help line. Call AA or NA. They are eager to help you get the help you need. And again, if you prefer to look for non-AA, non-twelve-step programs, there are plenty of other resources available online.

Janet: You’re such a wonderful writer: now that you’ve published Sober Heart, do you have other writing projects you’re working on? What’s next for Mary Ellin Lerner? 

Mary Ellin: What’s next? Beyond this project, I am considering writing a novel about a love affair between two alcoholics who go in and out of recovery over the course of their relationship. Maybe told through various perspectives. The man and woman, of course, but a few other players as well.

Or maybe I will try genre fiction: a book about a sober detective. Would that be a soft-boiled thriller? A refreshing spin on the tradition of the hungover gumshoe?

I am not joking, not really. Genre fiction is great because it has such a loyal built-in audience, tons of bloggers who like to read and review it, and mainstream publishers eager to sign up new authors for the insatiable readers. So why not?

However, for now I am focusing on getting the word out about Sober Heart. I really would love people to read it. I hope they will find their way to the book and, when they do, I hope that there will be something in it that helps or amuses them–or does both.

I think people will be pleasantly surprised by how much fun the book is!

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “A Long Way from Iowa.”  You can learn more about Mary Ellin Lerner’s new book, Sober Heart: Reflections on Life and Love in Recovery on the Sober Heart Facebook page.