7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, January 30, 2004
Like other reviewers, I was hooked from the very first page. As I read on, I began to love Justine, the narrator, and her funny and also vulnerable sister Rona. I wanted to take the character of Mom and slap some sense into her--or at least, take Justine and Rona away from her. Because I wanted to do those things, and because the story was so compelling, I stayed up late reading and was sad when I finished and realized their story was over. I think Stephanie Rosenfeld did an excellent job writing from the point of view of a 12-year-old, while still keeping an adult and mature perspective. I think what was so compelling, also, about the book was how frustrating it was to read. I was left to wonder if Rona and Justine would be okay (I'm hoping they were). I definitely recommend this book--and I think it deserve more than five stars!
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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Mom is crazy, October 24, 2003
By A Customer
This review is from: Massachusetts, California, Timbuktu (Hardcover)
By Martin Naparsteck
The Salt Lake Tribune
Mom is crazy. She's also lovable. Indeed, there's no shortage of people who love Mom in Stephanie Rosenfeld's first novel, Massachusetts, California, Timbuktu. But her craziness isn't the lovable kind. She chases after mean-spirited men, refuses to believe the one decent guy who is interested in her, is often too distracted to send her two daughters, aged 11 and 5, to school or to feed them, or even, sometimes, to get out of bed.
It's easy to label the mother, Colleen Hanley, as self-destructive, but she is, after all, a mother, and she damages more lives than her own.
Rosenfeld's pacing is marvelous and her narrative voice precise and beguiling. The result is a depressing and wonderful novel.
Few techniques so clearly separate the merely competent writer from the highly skilled one as pacing. Rosenfeld moves her story along slowly and inevitably. In one minor event after another, she convinces the reader that Mom moves from happy to uncontrollable depression, and 11-year-old Justine moves from unquestioning love to despair bordering on helplessness, while 5-year-old Rona moves from depending on Mom to depending on Justine.
Justine, the novel's narrator, sees a photograph of her mother as a high school cheerleader and realizes, "there was a Mom before him, too -- someone happy and smiling, sitting in the air on top of another boy's shoulders, not even imagining there was such a thing as Dale in the world."
Dale is the father of Rona. He is also someone with a perverted sense of religion. He punches Justine "in the back so hard that I had to go to the hospital for an ultrasound on my kidney" for not blessing a Popsicle before she ate it: "In this house, you thank the lord for every blessing you receive, period, the end."
To make a better life -- which largely means getting away from Dale -- Colleen moves with her daughters to Massachusetts. On the way they stop in Salt Lake City (where Rosenfeld lives), and visit her sister. Colleen's capacity for combining naivety with mild sarcasm is demonstrated by what she tells her children to expect in Utah: "Mom had told us about Mormons on the way to Utah. It was a religion that couldn't drink coffee, Coke, or beer or smoke cigarettes; their mascot was the bee; and the men talked to God and then told the people who God wanted them to vote for, and not to be gay, and things like that."
More than helping to define Mom, however, the passage is typical of the voice in which the novel is rendered. It's Justine speaking, and the reader can never be certain if she got her mother's remarks quite right. Like Huck Finn's, Justine's narrative borders on the unreliable. It is a technique that simultaneously requires the reader to read more carefully and gives depth to the narrator.
Once they are in Massachusetts, the lives of all three -- Colleen, Justine, and Rona -- are far worse. They live with an old friend of Colleen's, Marie, who constantly criticizes Colleen. Justine enrolls in school and is treated meanly by some of the boys there. Among other things, they send her unsigned, sexually suggestive notes. Rona spends a lot of time sucking her thumb.
Justine sums up her mother's relationships with men with a series of rhetorical questions: "If you wanted Mom to like you, you had to be more of a loser? You had to live in a dump and hate kids and not know how to make your own dinner, let alone anyone else's, and most of all, you had to be mean to Mom? Or if not exactly mean, everything you did had to make her look sort of like a sad, pathetic idiot? And you had to not call, because somehow the ones that didn't call were the ones she ended up liking the most."
In school, Justine is given an assignment to write a pioneer diary, one that might have been written by someone in the 19th century moving from east to west. The diary she writes almost parallels what has happened to her and her sister and mother when they moved east. The husband dies, the baby is near death, a woman traveling with them does no work and consumes scarce food and water.
The primary effect of the diary is to reveal just how desperate Justine feels trying to care for a manic-depressive mother and a little sister who displays some of the same tendencies as the mother.
Justine is the hero of the novel. Colleen invites both our sympathy and our scorn. Rona is total vulnerability. Marie is helpful but unlikable. Dale is despicable. All the males, even the schoolboys, are nasty, except one (Ron, who Colleen rejects). But Justine is stronger than any 11-year-old should have to be. She's a role model for her mother. For all mothers.
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Martin Naparsteck reviews books from and about the West for The Salt Lake Tribune.
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