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Chargement... Why Is Everybody Yelling?: Growing Up in My Immigrant Family (2021)par Marisabina Russo
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Inscrivez-vous à LibraryThing pour découvrir si vous aimerez ce livre Actuellement, il n'y a pas de discussions au sujet de ce livre. Family History told through a Graphic Novel A poignant look back at the author’s life growing up as an Italian-American, raised as Catholic with a Jewish mother who, along with her brothers & extended family, were survivors of the Holocaust. The illustrations were interesting, reminding me of older comics from The NY Times. The best thing was the translations provided under the comic panels when Yiddish & German words were spoken by the characters. I have taught lessons over the Holocaust and this was one of the most factually correct books I have read in recent years. I was fascinated by the first half as the author described being a devout Catholic in elementary school with a single mother, Sabina Russo, who had converted from Judaism. There is real energy in the scenes with the Sabina's sisters and mother who remain Jewish, chide Sabina for her conversion, and wonder at the little aspiring nun in their midst. Slowly, we are given the stories of how the members of the family survived the Holocaust and migrated to America to start their lives anew. We are also introduced to Sabina's half-brothers, one of whom is an artist who hangs with Allen Ginsberg and deals with mental health issues. Unfortunately, the second half of the book sort of drops those threads and starts to become a more generic string of anecdotes about being a teenage girl growing up in 1960s. As the book is limited to the timeframe of 1957 to 1967, we only see Russo age from basically seven to seventeen. The ending with her going off to college at Mount Holyoke feels more arbitrary than an organic coming-of-age moment. And the next fifty years are reduced to an unsatisfying epilogue and end notes with short biographical sketches of what happened to the various family members before their deaths. aucune critique | ajouter une critique
"It's 1950s New York, and Marisabina Russo is being raised Catholic and attending a Catholic school that she loves--but when she finds out that she's Jewish by blood, and that her family members are Jewish survivors of the Holocaust, her childhood is thrown into turmoil. To make matters more complicated, her father is out of the picture, her mother is ambitious and demanding, and her older half-brothers have troubles, too. Following the author's young life into the tumultuous, liberating 1960s, this . . . graphic-novel memoir explores the childhood burdens of memory and guilt, and Marisabina's struggle and success in forming an identity entirely her own"--Provided by publisher. Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque |
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Google Books — Chargement... GenresClassification décimale de Melvil (CDD)813.54Literature English (North America) American fiction 20th Century 1945-1999Classification de la Bibliothèque du CongrèsÉvaluationMoyenne:
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Spanning ten years (1957-1967), with some older stories and memories plus an epilogue, Marisabina relates her story of growing up Catholic in a Jewish family in Queens. She was raised by her mother, who fought with partisans in Italy during WWII; her two older brothers are already off at college, and her father lives in Geneva and shows little interest in her, aside from cards and presents on her birthday and Christmas. Mariasabina navigates a change in schools (from Catholic to public), neighborhood friendships, and a new stepfather, and tries to make sense of her religion and her family history. One aunt and a grandmother survived concentration camps; other family members died during the war. By the time she leaves for Mount Holyoke College, she's ready to live her life out from under her mother's controlling influence, but she has a better understanding of what her family endured.
See also: Roz Chast, Art Spiegelman
Quotes
There was a hierarchy of suffering in my family, and I was clearly at the bottom. (45)
It was possible my mother was wrong. Why were there so many religions if there was only one heaven? (96)
Why did I have to be grateful for things I didn't even like? It wasn't my fault that I was born after the war. If I told my mother...she'd just find some other war trauma to compare it with, and then my problems would seem about as important as the crumbs on the table. (139)
My big brothers had finished growing up while I was still right in the middle of it. (153)
If God was truly as merciful and just as the nuns and priests said, why had he let any of that stuff happen? Maybe Tante Anny was right when she said God wasn't listening? (164)
For my mother, sensitivity was the worst character flaw of all. (170)
...how to you quantify suffering? (re: German reparations, 188) ( )