I was raised in the 1970s by all women. Each day, my mother and grandmother watched “their programs”. When my great aunts babysat me, there were no interruptions during those afternoons. I remember watching on old, grainy black and white TVs and on sprawling stereo-sized color sets. They talked about these women as if they were friends. And those shows lasted for generations.
This is the fictionalization of the mother of soap operas, Irma Phillips. Phillips (whose name before today I didn’t know) not only created daytime radio dramas, she migrated them from radio to television. The story isn’t particularly long, but it’s full of characterization. Phillips is a true trailblazer, centralizing her work around the lives and dreams of women.
I have several of Melanie Benjamin’s other novels and she doesn’t disappoint here. The only part that could have used further flushing out is the part about parenting.
I really enjoyed the story as it took me back to a dining room table littered with ashtrays and coffee cups, where if I was good I could hear about Victor’s or Marlena’s latest antics while eating a slice of Aunt Bea’s walnut cake. I still watch soaps to this day, as my husband was kind enough to get me BritBox to get me my daily Eastenders fix.