An International Consortium Of Authors Offers A Fresh Take On Motherhood.
By Margaret Regan
Mothers & Daughters: An Anthology, edited by Alberto
Manguel (Chronicle Books). Paper, $15.95.
JUST IN TIME for Mother's Day, a new collection of short
stories wanders along
the sometimes tricky terrain of the mother-daughter relationship.
To the credit of its editor, Alberto Manguel, an Argentine now
resident in Canada, the anthology of 20 works by authors both
famous and obscure also ranges all over the geographic map. The
stories offer up a plucky cleaning lady in Australia and a cold
English officer's wife in colonial India. A cast-off divorcée
in turn-of-the century New York is as alone as the studious London
widow obsessed with finishing her late husband's lexicon. The
tough daughter of a Carolina waitress and a Dutch teenager both
grapple with abuse by a mother's new boyfriend.
The international perspective is downright refreshing, a nice
change from those all-too-common short stories about late 20th-century
American languor. Some authors are virtually unknown in the U.S.,
like China's Ai Bei, a political refugee, and Anna Maria Ortese
of Italy. The famous, such as William Trevor, Irishman of England,
are put into a new context (just two of the stories are by men).
Trevor's is the difficult tale of the rigid Londoner who neglects
her daughter while devoting herself to her husband's scholarship.
Janet Frame, the New Zealander whose life history was told in
the movie An Angel at My Table, is represented by "The
Pictures," a short, sad tale of life in a boarding house
for a working-class woman and her little girl.
Nor has Manguel limited the time periods: The book is as up-to-date
as Dorothy Allison and Louise Erdrich, and as conscious of the
past as Edith Wharton and Katherine Mansfield. From across the
century and around the world, the stories chronicle women's lives,
seen through the flickering prism of motherhood.
Wharton's story, "Autre Temps," takes a sharp
look at the way changing mores can divide women of different generations.
Mrs. Lidcote, a middle-aged divorcée, has been cut from
"good" society ever since she left her first husband
for another man. As the story opens a generation later, her daughter
has done the same thing with few social consequences. But things
have not changed as much as everyone is saying: Mrs. Lidcote gradually
realizes she's still a social liability to her ambitious daughter.
Wharton renders the horrifying moment of truth in typically masterful
fashion.
An even older story, "A Mother in India," by Sara Jeannette
Duncan, is surprisingly skeptical about the sainted notion of
maternal instinct. Duncan herself was the wife of an English officer
in India in the late 19th century, and her tale examines the strange
custom the English had of shipping their infants off to the home
country to be raised by relatives. Deftly written in the first-person
voice of the coolly detached mother, the tale recounts the chilly
reunion of mother and daughter after 21 years.
Allison, best known for the searing novel Bastard out of Carolina,
writes again in "Mama" of the beloved mother who failed
to protect her daughter from the violent sexual depredations of
her stepfather. If works like Duncan's and Allison's reveal painful
ambiguities from both sides of the mother-daughter divide, there
are a few unenlightening clichés in the book as well: Dorothy
Parker's "Lolita," for example, is a mid-century stereotype
of the pretty woman who deliberately undermines her plain daughter.
Best of all, though (as authors should), these writers mostly
ignore the tired ideas about motherhood that so burden real-life
mothers and daughters. They track the territory in between the
Mommie Dearests and the I Remember Mamas where women
actually live; where relationships between mothers and daughters
are as complicated and as varied as any of the other couplings
that make up human society.
One of my favorite mother-and-daughter duos in the book is the
Australian pair in Elizabeth Jolley's "The Last Crop."
The mom here is a cleaning lady whose views on life are wildly
at variance with the typical middle-class reader's. When her daughter
refuses to go back to a school where the teachers look down on
her, the mother cheerfully agrees to let her drop out. Mom enlists
her instead in her business: a delicious scam wherein she cleans
the empty apartments of the rich--and rents them out by day for
a tidy profit. The crop of the title makes for a grand surprise
ending, wherein the cleaning lady outwits her social betters to
give her family, finally, a firm stake in the land. Her admiring
daughter couldn't be prouder.
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