The Monday Book – Send For Me by Lauren Fox

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, retired Literature teacher.

Having enjoyed all of Lauren Fox’s previous novels, one in preparation for meeting and introducing her at the Wisconsin Book Festival a few years back and the other two following that, I was both excited and extremely intrigued when this one came out, but given all that was going on at the moment, I just did not feel up to (another) World War II novel…so did wait a little bit to actually pick it up. I packed it with my spring break to-read stack-in-a-bag. And I am not disappointed at all to have done so.

While fiction, this novel’s impetus lies in the truths discovered in letters that Fox’s great-grandmother had written to Fox’s grandmother…in an old, legibly readable to very few, German script. She explains, “After they [her grandparents] died, I found among their things a little wooden box full of letters written by my great-grandmother, Frieda, to my grandmother, Ilse, dating from 1938-1941. I knew almost immediately, and without being able to read a word, that this treasure I had stumbled upon would be life-changing.” Volumes of work and research and time then went into Fox’s translation work first: she found on campus and then met with a German professor weekly for a year during her graduate studies and with a tape recorder, to have him translate into English for her, letter by letter, those in her great-grandmother’s German script. And when all of that work was complete, she still hadn’t even decided what she would do with all she learned from those written exchanges. She did use it in her master’s thesis. But the way in which it all became, ultimately, the core of this novel’s stories required some more living of her own, the gaining of experience and reflection and this…necessarily more aged perspective for her to decide to use her great-grandmother’s letters, verbatim, and as they are here. 

Personally I feel this should be a front piece to the book rather than at the book’s end, as it lends more valuable depth and layers to Fox’s writing craft and talents…and for the reader, pushing whichever ethos, pathos, or logos layer button required for you to value quality story. This insight gives the reader an opportunity to appreciate more realistically the woven layers of fiction and non-fiction present in the novel, appreciating also the depths and layers of the work done by Fox, its very weaver.

Again, this is a novel, a work of fiction. However, Fox’s own ancestors’ stories do, like the characters’ stories in this book, share settings: in both Fox’s family facts and her fiction, some of the action occurs in the 1930s into early 1940s, and some of this action occurs in Germany and then other of it two generations later and right here in Wisconsin, in Milwaukee, specifically. Send For Me moves about and between these two settings, building the stories of Annelise and her parents, and then Annelise’s own family through their development to her granddaughter Clare. These characters, their lives and stories, woven through each of the five sections of the novel. Its layers read much like it feels to actually find a letter or photograph and then unpack its story and weave it back into its “place” in history. 

It does not hurt that this particular reader, I, am also a fan of baked goods and bakeries, warming very much to the early prewar Germany setting of this book, a family-owned bakery in where a young woman named Annelise works with her parents, Klara and Julius. The steady presentation of what is being made or baked, placed into and then ordered from the display cases, creates for this reader a warmth of yeasty aromas and camaraderie in the workplace that, well, work…very well. Additionally this all helps to solidify the “safety” and wholesome community and the feel of it here and in their routines, such that we readers, too, are surprised at the anti-Jewish sentiments rising throughout Germany and eventually moving right in this town and neighborhood as well.

And despite this reader’s lack of need for “romance,” ever, in a book for it to be “good” or an enjoyable read, the romantic elements of this novel are quite satisfying. Relationships were built that did not and/or did stand the test of time, and not all weathered well the challenges of the conflicts that developed between the Jews in Germany and their oppressors. Thus this does not read like a “romance novel” but includes believable elements of the tension of romantic relationships and how those have to be more than that to withstand many of the tests they face.

In the most contemporary setting of the book, taking place two generations after Annelise moves on and into her own married life and then motherhood as well, we meet Annelise’s granddaughter, Clare, in a Midwestern town and navigating her own developing womanhood and self, finding her way while carrying with her all that her parents, her grandparents, have also endured and carried with them. (Here, too, I see Fox herself, caring for her ancestors’ history in the “things” they carried, discovered while cleaning.)

The story is conveyed far more simply than the complexity might suggest of the work and time that went into researching and writing it. But I think this all wise and time well spent to craft a story that does what the very best do: pulls us in to experience something that may be familiar to us or feel similar to things we’ve also carried or brand new and foreign-feeling, but it does not tell us what to think or how to feel. Rather, a book like Send For Me allows us to live in those spaces and places and try on any of those roles for a bit to better understand the lives others may have lived–possibly our very own ancestors in some ways, shape, or form– and allows us to better appreciate both their experiences and our own. 

I have spent much time reminiscing about my own grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents and up both immediate branches of my own family tree. About some of them I know a lot, and/or there are many artifacts, photos, stories passed on through letters/diaries/etc., and about others I know very, very little. But this book reminded me that every one of them had their own story. I wish I could hear them tell it. This book makes me crave that even more…along with needing to bake something yummy as well!

Leafing Through Old Magazines

I’ve been helping my parents clear their basement of unwanted detritus (as opposed to wanted detritus) and found a large stack of Saturday Evening Post and LIFE Magazines from the 1960s and 1970s. Some of them are collectable, so we’re selling those off for Mom’s pin money. But it’s slow work because Jack and I keep getting sucked into their content.

Affordable housing shortages, race relation troubles, the decline of the education system, corrupt politicians, and America getting involved foreign wars: such a different time, those sixties….

The more things change the more they stay the same is only half the story, though. At first reading of the stories of enforced integration and the Watts Riots, what immediately struck me was the different framing, the use of language to create subtle (maybe not-so-subtle) perceptions of how to approach “the problem.” 

Let’s talk about the advertisements. Certain cars, certain cigarettes, certain alcohols, attract blondes. Really slender-yet-curvy blonds. Certain flavors of Campbell’s soups create wholesomeness. And let’s not forget the nerve pills and the soft drinks Mommy needs for energy—especially as she might be entering the workforce as a nurse or teacher. 

I have started collecting the sugar ads. Somewhere around 1966 diet culture got big (ehm, no pun intended). So, the sugar company fought back: full-page ads featuring (so far) four different kids, detailing their busy days, explaining why they needed sugar’s wholesome energy. My favorite is Mary, who “needs sugarless soda like a turtle needs a seat belt.” Nice double whammy there, as seat belts in this era were 1) optional and 2) controversial.

But it’s the racial framing that really gets to me. In 1963, a reporter came to the integration story from the framework of heartbreak and chaos for northern schools just trying to get on with their job of educating future America. The not-entirely-subtle subtext: couldn’t those pesky Black people just be happy they had separate but equal schools and not rock the boat carrying America’s most precious asset? It wasn’t until the 1970s that a report on the same topic suggested, ever so simply, that America’s most precious asset included Black children AND that all the kids would benefit from knowing what America’s difficult past included in terms of teaching the Civil War and the slave trade as economic prosperity for those who sought to uphold it.

Might be coincidence, but that reporter’s byline didn’t appear in the few magazines I found after that date. There were only a few, so no conclusions can be drawn.

Has the language changed? Sometimes. Have the issues changed? Sometimes. Do we still eat sugar? Sometimes. Is this progress? Sometimes.