Amy Bloom's new novel brims with love, war, and complexity
A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday.
Enter Email
Sign Up
We begin with a brief prologue set in the unspecified present: a woman named Gazala is dying at home, tended to by three women, Anne, Alma, and Honey, and a man, Samir, who is identified as her brother. Soon, we flash back to Paris in 1930. There, Gazala's first person, present-tense narrative plunges us into a vividly evocative and propulsive story. Her wry reflections on and spirited accounts of life in Paris from 1930 to 1945 and then New York City, where she travels with forged papers and finds a job in a bakery comprise the strongest chunk of the novel.
Advertisement
This is due in large part to Gazala's irresistible voice, the vibrant setting, the suspense inherent to a tale of occupied Paris and WWII Europe, and the eccentric characters, who range from the French writer Colette, described by Gazala in a chapter title as 'Famous Writer, Anti-Semite, Beloved Friend,' to the jeweler for the Duchess of Windsor. Gazala is gritty, resourceful, hilarious: an irresistible artistic creation. Her life is outlandish and outrageous — she commits multiple murders, without training gives great massages to illustrious people, learns how to seduce men and perform sexually from experienced older women — but she always feels real. Spending time in her mind and in her milieu is an adventure, continually surprising, and consistently rewarding.
Advertisement
When a new section begins with Samir's arrival in New York City in 1947,
however, the style and the tonal acuity change. The narrative voice switches, for the most part, to third person, and the reader feels the loss. The missing intimacy of Gazala's narrative and the crackling idiosyncrasy of her voice leave a palpable void.
Related
:
Samir and Gazala, now lovers and life partners, end up settling down in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., where Samir works his way up in a department store, achieving financial success and domestic happiness with his sister/lover. And from this point, the chapters move back and forth in time with no rhyme or reason, jumping from Poughkeepsie to Mexico to New Jersey, from 2015 to 1968 to 1984, as characters pile up and depth is sacrificed for collage. The novel gains little by its leaps backward and forward and sideways in time and space, which feel arbitrary and often interrupt momentum, disrupt flow, and muddle things for the reader.
Even a writer as adept as Bloom at characterizing someone with an arresting image —'Madame shakes off a couple of shawls like an old warhorse hearing the bells of battle' — or telling life summary — 'David will go to Brooklyn College and eventually become an accountant in New Jersey with a fat, kind wife and no one will feel sorry for him' — can't overcome the effect of superficiality.
Advertisement
Thus while sections of the book enchant, moments and lines provoke laughter, knowing nods, or a delighted smile, the overall effect deflates our hopes. 'I'll Be Right Here' reads more like a collection of vivid sketches, haphazardly bundled, than a finely wrought and fully realized novel. The parts are greater than the whole, the ingredients tastier than the dish.
Related
:
But how succulent, spicy, and nourishing Bloom's ingredients can be! At one point Gazala remarks: 'A good storyteller has memories and caraway seeds and cinnamon sticks and candied dates in his pocket.' Bloom's eccentric perspectives, unusual characters, and warm-hearted approach make her storytelling alluring just as the story itself is often incomplete and confusing.
Bloom's virtues and values are evident on every page of this endearing if ultimately somewhat unsatisfying book. The novel makes important points about immigration, acceptance of difference, open-mindedness to alternative ways of living and loving, and the preciousness and wisdom of our elders in a refreshingly non-didactic way. A wryly humorous, emotionally generous, and expansively embracing author, Bloom approaches each of her characters with empathy, insight, and sensitivity. She remains acutely aware of the absurdities of life, its harrowing hardships, and its fragile, fleeting joys. What is perdurable, what binds us together over space and time, countries and continents, in war and in peace, are found family, good humor, and love.
Advertisement
I'LL BE RIGHT HERE
By Amy Bloom
Random House, 272 pages, $28
Priscilla Gilman is a former professor of English literature at Yale University and Vassar College and the author of '
' and '
.'
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Axios
7 minutes ago
- Axios
Where to find girl dinner in New Orleans
A small handful of New Orleans restaurants are now offering "girl dinner" specials, serving up price fixe meals in a nod to a delicious viral trend. Why it matters: The perfect restaurant order does exist. Catch up quick: The phenomenon may have always existed but it got a name when TikTok user Olivia Maher was — delightfully — on a self-described "hot girl walk" with a friend and thought up the title. Maher told the New York Times that the pair were extolling the virtues of a simple meal of bread and cheese. "It feels like such a girl dinner because we do it when our boyfriends aren't around and we don't have to have what's a 'typical dinner' — essentially, with a protein and a veggie and a starch," Ms. Maher said. The term caught on, and one of the most popular iterations of the meal is a salad, French fries and a cocktail or Diet Coke. Here's where to find girl dinner -inspired specials in New Orleans: 🍸 JusTini's offers " girl lunch" on weekdays from 11am to 3pm. The $25 deal includes a Caesar salad, truffle fries and a martini or lemon drop cocktail. 🍟 Junior's on Harrison offers $7 truffle fries, Caesar salads, martinis and frozen drinks on Thursdays.
CNN
2 hours ago
- CNN
Jimmy Kimmel's backup plan may be a move to Italy
Late-night host Jimmy Kimmel revealed he has obtained Italian citizenship. In a recent conversation for 'The Sarah Silverman Podcast,' the two comedians, who dated years ago and remain friends, discussed the state of US politics and how some celebrities, including Rosie O'Donnell and Ellen DeGeneres, had moved abroad ahead of President Donald Trump's second term. 'A lot of people I know are thinking about where are they going to get citizenship,' Silverman said. 'I did get Italian citizenship,' Kimmel responded. 'I do have that.' 'What's going on is… as bad as you thought it was going to be, it's so much worse,' Kimmel continued. 'It's unbelievable. Like, I think it's probably even worse than he would like it to be.' Kimmel, who has been a vocal critic of Trump, said people who voted for the president should not be condemned if they have expressed subsequent regret and those on the left need to be more accepting. 'The door needs to stay open,' Kimmel said. 'If you want to change your mind, that's so hard to do. If you want to admit you were wrong, that's so hard and so rare to do, you are welcome.' 'I can't believe I voted for him three times!' Kimmel later joked. Kimmel has been on summer hiatus from hosting his nightly ABC show, but most recently was in the headlines when Trump weighed in on the cancelation of 'Late Night with Stephen Colbert.' 'I hear Jimmy Kimmel is next,' meaning to be cancelled, Trump wrote in his Truth Social post last month. Around the same time, Kimmel shared a photo from vacation in Jackson Hole, where he attended an anti-Trump protest with his family. The comedian held declaring, 'MAKE AMERICA GOOD AGAIN.' His wife, Molly McNearney, the head writer and executive producer of 'Jimmy Kimmel Live,' also held up a sign. It read, 'DON'T BEND THE KNEE.'
Los Angeles Times
2 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
‘It's just like home.' One of the last Basque-owned restaurants in California is selling
A vibrant social scene has burgeoned on Saturday nights along Route 66 in Glendora — a sleepy suburb in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains — at Glendora Continental, a nostalgic time capsule of the local Basque community for nearly half a century. But now the 45-year-old, family-run restaurant might be nearing its end. Earlier this year, the second- and third-generation owners put it up for sale, and are now considering offers from potential operators and developers. A cornerstone of the community, it's a reminder of fading connections to the Basque diaspora in California. In the last decade several Basque restaurants — tied to a culture centered around sheepherding and preserving traditions through social clubs and festivals — have closed. Cafe Basque in downtown L.A., Santa Monica's Bar Pinxtos and Pasadena's Ración have all shuttered. In Bakersfield, where once the Basque community included many vibrant restaurants, just a handful are standing, like Wool Growers Restaurant and Pyrenees Cafe. Now, the people who most love Glendora Continental — its owners, employees and regulars — are making lasting memories at the restaurant in its final days. A lunch and dinner spot with early-bird specials, Glendora Continental offers a mix of Basque, French and American food. It stays open until 2 a.m. every day of the year except Christmas. On a recent evening, every seat was filled. A five-piece cover band called the Subs performed hits from the Kinks' 'You Really Got Me' to Bill Withers' 'Ain't No Sunshine' on a small stage. Several birthday celebrations took place, and guests, donning cowboy hats and baseball caps, drank beer and feasted on lamb shank and prime rib. 'The restaurant is a place where everybody eventually gets to know each other,' said general manager and co-owner Bernadette Sabarots, 55. 'Everybody looks out for everyone here.' The paraphernalia on the walls near the entrance of Glendora Continental paint a Basque immigrant story. Black-and-white photos include a 1966 wedding snapshot of the late owners, Elisabeth and Jean-Baptiste Sabarots. A painting of the Basque coat of arms, called Zazpiak Bat, symbolizes the seven provinces that make up one of Europe's oldest ethnic groups, straddling France and Spain in the western Pyrenees Mountains. A decorated wood carving depicts a man playing jai alai, the Basque handball game using a curved basket. 'The whole style — including that old-school diner look — was really my parents,' said co-owner Antoinette Sabarots, 56, of the nearly 7,000-square-foot Glendora Continental. Her father, Jean, who hailed from the French town of Osses, came to California in 1955 and worked as a sheepherder, like many other Basques who migrated to the United States. He eventually landed a bartending job at the now-closed Can Can Club in Covina in 1962. It seemed like a better fit for him. 'We never liked to camp with him because he hated being outside,' said Antoinette. 'I can only imagine he herded sheep as minimally as he could.' On a trip back home in 1964, Jean met Elisabeth Larralde, who had worked at the Hotel Arcé in Saint-Étienne-de-Baïgorry for over a decade, starting at 12. 'She cultivated and developed a sense of taste and grace and how to cook like a chef there,' said Antoinette. In 1966, Jean and Elisabeth traveled to the U.S. and got married in Chino. Next door to the Can Can Club, they worked at the Little Inn Lounge and Smorgasbord in Covina before eventually owning it. When they saved enough money, they opened Glendora Continental in 1980 and simultaneously ran both restaurants, until Little Inn closed in 1989. At Glendora Continental, Jean was in charge of the bar and Elisabeth hosted and managed the kitchen. She crafted French Basque dishes like slow-braised lamb in a Burgundy demi-glace, bouchée à la reine, pickled tongue and escargots à la bourguignonne — items that remain on the menu as an homage to the family's culture. 'These are dishes that are more popular with French Basque people, not so much the general public,' said Antoinette, who noted that over time her family incorporated more American dishes like crab cakes, grilled steaks and salads. 'I would say it's Basque with a sprinkle of American, or vice versa.' The bar displays its Basque influences: French and Californian wines, apéritifs from Ricard to Dubonnet, and classic cocktails, including a traditional Basque drink called Picon Punch. Elisabeth and Jean's three daughters — Antoinette, Bernadette and Marguerite Sabarots (who died last November from brain cancer at 57) — grew up working at the restaurant, cleaning dishes, whipping up chocolate mousse and folding napkins. When they left for college, they would come back to help their parents cater events. The sisters forged their own paths. But when Elisabeth died in 2005 from colon cancer, and Jean, who had his own health issues — he had become a double-amputee years earlier — was alone managing the restaurant, Bernadtte stepped in to help. She moved back to Glendora and worked alongside her father until he passed away in 2012. 'I wasn't planning on working at the restaurant, but we didn't realize my parents were going to pass away so early,' said Bernadette. 'Obviously, things change as you get older.' Bernadtte has found family among her longstanding employees. Lunchtime chef Marcelino Espinoza, 63, trained under Elisabeth and has been at the restaurant since it first opened; Kathy Gutierrez, 64, has been a bartender for 15 years; and Victor Hernandez, 50, a dishwasher and busboy for 12 years. Marguerite Jaureguy, 78, was Jean's girlfriend in the last years of his life and continues to come in once a week to do administrative and bookkeeping work. 'It's our second home,' said Hernandez. Customers have similar sentiments. For 25 years, Paul and Jan Collett, 81 and 77, have dined at Glendora Continental nearly every day. 'It has really good food,' said Jan. 'We've got several friends that we meet down there all the time, so it's just like home.' Kirk and Elloise Warner, 75 and 74, have been frequenting Glendora Continental since the 1990s. They have a tradition to stop by the bar for shots whenever UCLA wins a game. 'We're not Basque, but we're kind of related,' said Kirk. 'Both of our families raised sheep for years.' Multigenerational families have been among the most loyal customers. Stella Arambel's Basque parents were friends with Elisabeth and Jean, and Glendora Continental catered her family's birthdays, anniversaries and most recently, her daughter's bridal shower in June. 'It has this vintage charm … and the food is great and it's at an affordable price,' said Arambel, 56. 'It holds a special place in my heart and I'll be sad to see it go.' An influx of Basque immigrants arrived in California around the Gold Rush in the mid-1800s, when sheepherding became a growing industry as demand for its meat and wool rose. Nancy Zubiri, author of the book 'A Travel Guide to Basque America,' has long studied local Basque history and changing demographics. In the late 1800s, Basques populated downtown L.A. before moving east to Chino, where there were ranches and dairy farms. 'There were Basque hotels, but they were actually boarding houses where the men would have a room and the owners would cook meals for them,' said Zubiri. 'They would all eat in the dining room together and that eventually developed into the Basque restaurant business.' However, Basque immigration to the U.S. slowed in the 1960s as France's and Spain's economies improved, Zubiri said. Eventually, the Basque community in Chino also changed. 'A lot of Basques used to live in Chino until the land got bought up and people started building — and then a lot of the dairy farms moved to Bakersfield,' said Bernadette. 'We don't see as many Basques anymore … they're just not around.' Even the culture in Bakersfield, 150 miles north in the southern Central Valley, is shifting as many locals there are also descendants of an aging immigrant generation and fewer folks are emigrating from the Basque Country. As for the dwindling number of Basque restaurants in Southern California, a lot of it has to do with a generational divide. 'Most of the restaurants were started by the immigrant generation and they were so willing to work hard and spend all day in the restaurant and give up their life to that,' said Zubiri. 'The younger generation are not as interested in it.' 'I think we all sort of knew it was a matter of time,' said Antoinette. 'My family doesn't live close by, and we never really imagined our kids would like to take it over.' Decisions about the restaurant's future are being made through its board, which includes Antoinette, Bernadette and Marguerite's children. Bernadette had originally wanted to keep the restaurant going, but has recently agreed with the board to put it on the market. 'I'm not getting any younger,' said Bernadette. 'I realized, 'You know what? Life is too short. I'm not going to continue to fight the fight.' ' As for the remaining Basque restaurants in Southern California, diners can still visit Centro Basco in Chino. Others are Basque adjacent: While Xuntos in Santa Monica primarily focuses on Northern Spanish tapas, some of its dishes are influenced by the Basque Country, and Taylor's Cafe in Chino offers Basque sausage on its Mexican and American breakfast menu. While Glendora Continental is drawing to an end, Jaureguy is reminded of Jean in his influence on his children. 'He used to say in Basque, 'Goatzen aitzina,' which means 'Let's move forward' — and now Bernie says the same thing,' said Jaureguy. 'She talks the same way as her dad.'
