A touching portrayal of the horrors of child sexual abuse, and of the triumph of the human spirit. --Elizabeth F. Loftus, Professor of Psychology University of Washington A young girl finds her way from the violent grip of her father to safety and peace in adult life. Snapshots provides a unique opportunity to explore childhood trauma through the eyes of Cassie as a child and as an adult, offering a rare look at abuse from the inside. "You can cry without a sound," says Cassie, "and the silence tells the truth."
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Book Description
Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Kimbra Martin is a former journalist, editor and literary critic who has written for both the print and broadcast media. She lives in Washington State.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Prologue
Two dreams have haunted me throughout my adult life. In one, I am in my house. It is evening and the light is dim. I walk upstairs and down the hall. Something trips me and I fall face-down on the floor. I push myself off the carpet, but my hands slip in something wet and sticky. Then I see what has tripped me-my mother, lying on the floor beside me. She is bleeding. She is dead.
As I turn away in horror, I see him, and then I realize what horror really is. My father has come for me, as I always knew he would. I raise my arms to defend myself, but I cannot. He reaches his hand into my mouth. He pulls it back, taking with it all my teeth. I am mute. I am in pain.
"Your fault," he says, gesturing toward my mother. "Your fault. I told you never to talk about it, but you did, didn't you? Well, now you'll never talk again."
When I wake from this, I am never breathing. It feels as if I might never breathe again, but slowly I remember how to do that and I lie there, practicing, in-out-in-out, until I get it right.
In the second dream, I meet my brothers and sister by a cheap roadside motel. I get into a truck with them, two in the cab and two in the back, and we drive. In this dream, we do not stop. We do not talk. We do not sleep. We only drive.
Our travel is desperate and urgent. It is not thought out. We think a common thought: Go. The route we are taking seems senseless, until you see. It starts Here . . . and winds as far as possible into There. I wake up scared and sweaty. I sometimes wonder why we've stopped, and start to tell everyone to hurry up and get on the road again. Then I realize it was a dream and that the road is my life. I am on it. I can talk. It is okay to stop a while.
I am thirty-eight now. I stand in the middle of my life and see so clearly how the past spreads out behind me in a rough and mountainous line--how it defines my future and colors my thoughts. The road before me is a riot of color and along it, anything is possible. Behind me . . . well, that is sad and bleak and not to be traveled too often. Its colors are blood-and-anger red and dark purple. Its landscape is stark and barren.
Chapter One
I am four. I have a brother, Gary, who is seven. My brother Jeff is five. My little sister, Julie, is too small to beat me in a race. She is three. I can smell the jam my mother is making in the kitchen and I go up the porch and through the door to see if I can lick the spoon. Someone grabs me just inside the door. It's Daddy. I didn't know he was home. He has a can in his hand.
"Shhh," he says. "Taste this," and he puts a spoonful of something in my mouth.
I am thinking of jam and this bite is not jam. I wrinkle my nose and start to spit it out. His look makes me stop.
"Swallow it, Cassandra," he says, quiet as the whispers I share with Jeff when we're supposed to be asleep. His mouth is one line, straight across.
I swallow the bite, and look away, then feel his slap hard against my cheek. It hurts so badly that I start to cry. He watches me, and then his face softens, his hand reaches out to me. I think I'm going to jerk back, but I don't, and I know that's a sign that I'm getting bigger. But it's okay. He is putting his arm around me. He is kissing the top of my head.
"You should learn to say thank you when someone gives you a present, Cassie. Here--want another bite of corned beef?"
So that's what it was. Corned beef. I tell him I like it. I take the bite and ask for another. I say 'thank you' and he smiles at me.
"Now go get your brothers and sister, Cassie. And don't tell them what the surprise is, you hear?"
I nod and run back into the yard, yelling for everyone to come in. My teeth bite hard against the secret I am holding. I still feel the heat on my cheek where he hit me. I hope no one will see it. They would know I've been bad. I decide to forget about the jam Mama is making. I'm not very hungry now.
I sometimes wonder about other people; I think about their childhood memories and their continuing relationships with their parents. I have felt envy, at times, seeing grown-up daughters with mothers, sons with fathers. I miss . . . what? I never had that which I most covet now. I imagine it, though. It is soft and safe. Most of all, it is certain. Even when I do not need it, it is there, to be given at the ring of a telephone or the knock at a door. It is an answer to the question I did not ask. It is, most of all, a parent's love.
When I let myself think of them, I see them in the old house. They are sitting in the kitchen, next to the wood stove. Their proximity to one another is measured by the length of the Formica table. He is always on the right.
They do not speak much. When words cross the table between them, they are mostly his. Her voice is registered in soft and placating murmurs. It does not matter what he says; her reply is the same. It is yes, I agree, you are right.
In my mind, I see him reach for the paper. I watch him pop a sour ball into his mouth and start to read. Only then does her face betray her, and only for an instant. She shows a truth too powerful to be seen for more than a flash. Her face speaks of pain and guilt, confusion and regret.
I rapidly push away this unexpected vision. There is such a thing as too much.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
EXTRAORDINARILY WELL WRITTEN -- A "MUST-READ" BOOK!,
By A Customer
This review is from: Snapshots (Paperback)
Unbelievably well-written -- SNAPSHOTS is an extraordinary window into the immediate and long-term effects of child abuse. I will admit to being both a professional in the field of abuse and recovery and a rather avid reader, and SNAPSHOTS is at the top of my list of recommendations. I bought the book after seeing the author on an ABC program kindly taped for me by a colleague. Martin had quite a story to tell about what she went through as a child, and how she survived to become a compassionate, thriving adult, with her own child. The book is EXQUISITELY written--hauntingly beautiful--with such a poetic feel about it. As sad as the subject is in the main, I feel as though Martin shared, as well, the most beautiful moments of her childhood. Prominent in those remembrances is her brother, Jeff, whose gentle display of resistance offers Cassie the hope of survival. One cannot read of this sibling relationship without tears, as it touches upon the desire in all of us to experience such a closeness in our own lives. Martin's description of the adult "family" she and her brother have formed, together with spouses and children, is remarkable, and offers true insight into the ways each of us may transcend difficulty and reinvent ourselves. I think it's important to note that the television interview that introduced me to Martin's work also featured another writer, Dave Pelzer, who wrote A CHILD CALLED IT, which is on the bestselling list at this time. The day after the program, I went to the bookstore for both SNAPSHOTS and A CHILD CALLED IT. My impressions of both were entirely different. Pelzer's writing is rough and cumbersome, and seems, unfortunately, to sensationalize this very delicate topic. Where Martin quite obviously avoids plunging the reader into extreme detail of horrifying experiences, Pelzer appears to have no such restraint. Martin's book was well represented in her conversations on the taped program. It is clear that she is articulate and equally clear that the matters discussed still caused her pain. Pelzer, on the other hand, seemed almost cavalier when reporting his experiences, which seemed quite odd. I was also quite disturbed after reading A CHILD CALLED IT to find that there were a great many discrepancies between what Pelzer said in the taped interview and what he wrote in the book. I certainly do not wish to minimize the trauma experienced by any adult survivor, but neither do I care to be manipulated for the purposes of selling a book. I was more than a little curious as to how Mr. Pelzer's story made it past his editor's and publisher's fact checkers. Conversely, if the book is accepted as authentic on its face, how is it that Pelzer ignores published "fact" and goes on to tell quite another tale in person? I digress. I was, as I stated at the start, hugely impressed with the calm and spare writing style of Martin's SNAPSHOTS. Here is one author from whom I would like to hear more -- particularly about her adult life, how she and her siblings (particularly Jeff) are faring, and what recovery advice she might offer others. I hope readers will be fortunate enough to benefit from her future writing.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
You become part of pain and beauty.,
By A Customer
This review is from: Snapshots (Paperback)
I was given the gift of understanding and compassion greater than any I've felt by reading this book. It is written with purity of emotion that draws you in to understand without unnecessary details what feelings a person goes through who is being abused. I could not put it down! My family was touched by abuse and this book drew all of us together. It is life changing and should be read by everyone to open their hearts and minds to the souls around them. Life becomes more precious and makes you realize how important and precious childhood is.I have the blessing of working with "Jeff" and can do nothing but sit back in amazement when I see what he has accomplished in his life when you compare him to all the "victims" around us. "Cassie" is as real as she appears... that's why this book will be successful.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
This is a book well worth reading I strongly recommend it.,
By A Customer
This review is from: Snapshots (Paperback)
Snapshots by Kimbra Martin, is a unique look at an issue that has received much attention the past few years - child physical and sexual abuse. The book describes Martin's childhood in rural Oregon. She, her two brothers, and a sister grew up trying desperately to survive in a family rigidly controlled by a monster of a father who felt that his children were his to do with as he pleased.Interspersed with Martin's memories of her childhood are more recent memories of her adult life as a mother. She describes the way she is raising her own son, and how she has created a safe, nurturing place for him to grow, so very different from her own experience as a child. Two qualities make this book different and well worth reading. The first is the sheer beauty and strength of the writing. Martin's style is almost poetic in form. She conveys events and emotions in simple, elegant images that imply, as much as state, what is happening. Considering the subject matter of the book, it is inappropriate to say that I "enjoyed" it. Yet, the beauty and power of the writing is remarkable and riveting. I read the book in a single sitting. Yes, I had to put it down at various times to recover emotionally; but I was driven by the quality of the writing to finish the book. The second quality of the book that makes it a must-read is that Martin is not content just to describe what happened to her and her siblings. Rather, she seeks to inspire others who have endured a childhood as traumatic as hers. It has become a cliché of late to assume that adults who were abused as children will likely become either abusers or victims themselves. They may commit crimes; they may abuse drugs; they may be involved in a series of abusive relationships, either as the perpetrator or as the victim. What Martin demonstrates in her book is that these are not inevitable consequences. We all have choices; we don't have to continue to be victims for the rest of our lives. The author says it best when she states "A person can pick just about any point in life and say `This is the beginning. This is where I start'" Juxtaposed with Martin's recollections of her childhood are vignettes of her parenting of her own son. There are such striking differences between the two. Where she learned fear, she teaches love. Where she learned cruelty, she teaches kindness. Where she learned that she was worthless, she teaches her own son that he is the center of her world. One wonders where Martin developed the wisdom to become the kind of parent she is. This is a book well worth reading, and I strongly recommend it.
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