Welcome to Stories from the Pink House...
...with Rina Barone
Hello.
You’re receiving this email because you are either a current subscriber to the Curiosity House Books newsletter, or found us here on Substack.
Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.
I am excited to show you our new newsletter. This new format will enable us to create and share more original content, and engage fully with you, our readers. We will continue to deliver all the latest and greatest book news from Curiosity House Books that you’ve come to expect from us over the years, but we will now be able to share even more Stories from the Pink House.
The Stories from the Pink House newsletter, written by me, Rina Barone - bookstore owner, small press publisher, and writer - takes you on a journey behind the scenes, of both an indie bookstore and the publishing industry, delves deeper into the pages of a book, and examines what it's really like to write one, from concept to publication.
What can you expect from this newsletter?
First and foremost, my thoughts on books, bookselling, and bookstores. I share what I’m reading, what I’m loving, and what I’m excited about. I muse on publishing and writing, while sharing my own journey of going back to school and writing a narrative nonfiction book. I’ll post links to other writings or stories that I find interesting, and feature interviews with authors I admire discussing everything from process to publication.
The newsletter is free and will be published weekly, with extra content for paid subscribers.
Thank you for reading, and for giving this space your time. If you enjoy what I write and share — please consider telling your friends, recommending the newsletter, or becoming a subscriber. Your support allows me to keep generating creative and original content, and connecting with you, the readers.
Subscribe to get full access to the newsletter, special features, and publication archives.
Join the book club.
Be part of a community of people who share your interests. Participate in the comments section, or support this work with a subscription.
Book Review
by Rina Barone
Monsters, Martyrs, and Marionettes: Essays on Motherhood. Adrienne Gruber
Published May 1, 2024 by Book*hug Press
Can a dead mother be sad? Writer Adrienne Gruber ponders this question and more in her new book, Monsters, Martyrs, and Marionettes: Essays on Motherhood in which she explores her subject matter in all its complexity and forms. Gruber sets the stage tonally and thematically right from the start with both her title and prologue probing and dissecting the author as mother.
Is she the monster of her eldest’s imagination, much like the chimera, the mythological creature Gruber is fascinated by, or more so the martyr, like her mother and grandmother before her, or maybe as marionette, all strings being pulled at once, as she dances between chaos and order? These are the themes outlined in Gruber’s book, divided in three parts with each section exploring mother as monster, martyr, and marionette.
Perhaps Gruber is all three - or none at all - switching between them as her three children, and to an extent, her own mother, need her to be. She is neither, and everything all at once. Each child thrusts their own unique demands on Gruber’s body, spirit and will, breaking her wide open, and in doing so, creating and breaking the mother mold three times. “Matrilineal lines have blurred…”, she writes, contemplating motherhood in all its forms, a special significance given to the number three, intentionally or not.
Interestingly, Gruber uses the analogy of fractals in relation to mothering. Fractals, like the ones found in nature, are never-ending, infinitely complex patterns, created by repeating a simple process over and over again, much like the constant feedback loop a mother can lose herself in when mothering young children. Like fractals, mothering leaves an emotional, physical, and mental imprint on a mother’s heart, body and soul.
Gruber’s poetic prose and experimental structure enables her to cut and paste her reflections and compartmentalize her feelings, moving them around as if in a puzzle, trying to make sense of it all. She writes of her beloved mother’s signature dessert, a 15-layer Prinzregenten Torte, a physical manifestation of mastery that has defined her mother for her entire life. Mother and daughter attempt to tackle the cake together, perhaps for the last time, for Gruber’s class of high school students.
Her once very capable and brilliant scientist mother finds the task too daunting and retreats, and Gruber is left feeling abandoned and in a sense, motherless. The mother mold, broken once again, shape shifting into its new form. Gruber’s mother’s slow but steady decline, both mentally and physically, throws chaos once again into Gruber’s quest for order. She is now faced with having to redefine her own mother-daughter relationship.
The cake itself is an allegory for Gruber’s spiritual, emotional and physical journey of what it means to mother, and to be mothered. Each layer reveals a new assault, a confrontation, an emotion. Gruber’s stylistic approach - analogies on analogies, metaphors over metaphors - helps her to explore and illuminate deeper, universal themes that resonate with the reader.
In questioning her own body, mind, and mothering, breaking it apart, picking at it like a scab until it bleeds out onto the page, Gruber so vividly and profoundly describes the permanent imprint of motherhood on her person. Her use of language, literary devices, and visual imagery makes for an unsettling visceral reading. At times it feels like the reader has been cloaked in the author’s skin, clawing for a way out.