Andrea gave a presentation titled “Anyone Can Be A Photojournalist” at the College Media Association/Associated Collegiate Press 2018 conference in Louisville, KY in October.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for … whiskey ginger ice cream?
In White Houses (Random House), celebrated writer Amy Bloom imagines the relationship between First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok, the journalist who covered Franklin D. Roosevelt’s presidential campaign and then developed a close relationship with Eleanor. “Hick” was known as a lesbian and she was also known to say she was in love with Eleanor. Although historians acknowledge the two women exchanged letters and were openly affectionate, whether they had a physical relationship is still debated.
Rosalie Morales Kearns’ debut novel, Kingdom of Women (Jaded Ibis Press), comes at a perfect time. Never before have we so badly needed to see what is possible when women act on the anger that is a product of living in a patriarchal world. Kearns imagines a world where women are not only armed and dangerous but also rising up to kill those who assault, rape, and murder women and children.
When Anne Hathaway walked onstage in a pink gown to receive an Oscar for her role in Les Miserables, I remembered the year I had seen the musical of the same name: 1988. I was in seventh grade. I had been happy and well-adjusted in elementary school, but in middle school, my female friends became intimidating, and an influx of hormones meant I suddenly didn’t know how to act around boys who used to be my friends. I turned silent, unsure of what to say to anyone except my best friend, who attended another school, and my family. I took refuge in the story about the French revolution. Les Miserables had come to Philadelphia, and my parents had taken me to see it. I was enchanted with the story, with revolutionary France, with the young French orphan who seemed to be about my age, with all the songs. I bought the double CD and would play it in my room, singing along with the lyrics until I knew them all.
I remember the moment one evening on a short walk to the mailbox in my condo complex when I first noticed the pinch of waistband in my size 10 jeans. It was a few months after I had come home from being hospitalized for severe, major depression with psychosis. The week prior to being admitted to the hospital, the most substantial thing I had eaten was a smoothie.
Then, after taking the pills the nurses pushed on me in small, white, pleated paper cups, I became so hungry I consumed anything I could find in the hospital kitchen — cartons of yogurt, popcorn, a banana, single-serving cups of ice-cream — even after finishing a full meal. I rationalized my body must be making up for how little I had eaten the week before, but the next day the doctor informed me the medication he’d prescribed for me was also an appetite stimulant.
Sunland, Don Waters’s debut novel, takes us through an American Southwest that, though fictional, couldn’t feel more real. It begins with thirty-three-year-old Sidney Dulaney’s recent move from Massachusetts to Arizona to start over after a failed relationship and an abandoned career as a high school English teacher, in order to help Nana, the grandmother who raised him.