From Publishers Weekly
Schwartz (Writing for Many Roles), a professor of writing at Richard Stockton College of New Jersey, has collected here some 40 loosely chronological vignettes from her rather comfortable life. Reading these musings is a bit like leafing through someone's photo album here's her son's wedding, her mother-in-law's funeral, her mastectomy, her daughter's pregnancy. Apart from her bout with breast cancer and her husband's stroke, Schwartz has a reasonably happy existence, with none of the major difficulties such as abuse, divorce, disability and depression often found in memoirs. She dwells, therefore, on more mundane matters: gaining weight, her husband's medical problems, a cap she likes to wear when driving, squabbles with her husband over who forgot the road map and organizing family get-togethers. But a few gems surface amid the quotidian onslaught. Thinking back to her horseback-riding girlhood, she realizes that "tomboys who are over fifty and under ten" have similar feelings of independence and "self-containment." The single best story actually concerns her father, who grew up in a German village, ran away to join the Kaiser's army and snuck into one of Hitler's rallies before deciding that the family should flee to America. And her subtle glass-half-full outlook will appeal to Oprah's crowd: in "Negotiating Monogamy," she describes arriving at a balance "that does not necessitate leaping into someone else's bed, just the ongoing possibility of it." In spite of its attractive cover, this slim volume is unlikely to stir much general interest, although it may inspire some readers to try writing their own stories. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
This bantamweight collection of essays retains its light and sure touch, even when the subjects are breast cancer and a spouse's heart attack. The author, in her middle fifties, wanders from the prickly and familiar delights of being married to the same man for nearly four decades to growing up the child of German Jewish immigrants, reconciling life as a woman in the fifties and in the seventies with life now. The coming of grandchildren, the losing of parents, friends who come and go, who change and die, are her subjects, and she handles them deftly. She muses on the need for midlife change: divorce, renovation, or a new kitchen. "It must be when our bodies disappoint us, we who stay together invest in home improvement." If she skims below the surface but rarely, that's all right, too. GraceAnne DeCandido
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Kirkus Reviews
"A gentle, moving celebration of the quotidian."
Booklist
"[A] light and sure touch."
Puerto del Sol
"These essays are reflections on daily life that contemplate our identity. . . . . . . precious and fundamental."
Bret Lott, author of Jewel, an Oprah Book Club selection
"Aimed at anyone interested in a thoughtful, humorous, poignant and honest look at love and marriage and family."
Stephen Dunn, author of Different Hours, 2001 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Poetry
"Clear-eyed, unflinching . . . . . . a survivor's book, lovingly mediated and written."
Book Description
"A queen-size bed may sound roomy, but when it is shared by a couple married for 40 years, the fit can be tight. Such a bed becomes a place where thoughtson love, negotiating a long partnership, motherhood, staying faithfuland memories flow powerfully. . . . Subjects range from Ms. Schwartz's cooking for her husband. . . before she leaves for a conference, to dealing with a mastectomy. This being New Jersey, there are stories about driving, most notably one describing a long drive to Cape Cod, replete with arguments over who forgot the map, and other tension. As couples surely know, a car is roughly the same size as a queen-sized bed." The New York Times. In this startlingly funny and wonderfully honest book of essays, Mimi Schwartz describes what it means to be married for almost forty years. She writes with a keen and amused eye about growing up in an immigrant Jewish family, coming of age in New York in the 1950s, marrying her high school beau, and then arriving at feminist consciousness in the 1970s like so many others of her generation. But unlike many of her contemporaries who left first marriages for independence, Schwartz stayed loyal to her marriage. With refreshing candor Schwartz describes the ongoing challenge of marriage, where success is never without ambivalence and humor. Her essays are wise and warm without being sentimental, and the characters in Schwartz's world are quirky and as charming, well rounded, and complex as those found in any novel. Mimi Schwartz is a professor of writing at Richard Stockton College of New Jersey. Her books include Writer's Craft, Teacher's Art: Teaching What We Know and Writing for Many Roles.
Thoughts from a Queen-Sized Bed (American Lives Series) FROM THE PUBLISHER
In this book of essays, Mimi Schwartz describes what it means to be married for almost forty years. She writes with a keen and amused eye about growing up in an immigrant Jewish family, coming of age in New York in the 1950s, marrying her high school beau, and then arriving at feminist consciousness in the 1970s like so many other of her generation. But unlike many of her contemporaries who left first marriages for independence, Schwartz stayed loyal to her marriage.
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
Schwartz (Writing for Many Roles), a professor of writing at Richard Stockton College of New Jersey, has collected here some 40 loosely chronological vignettes from her rather comfortable life. Reading these musings is a bit like leafing through someone's photo album here's her son's wedding, her mother-in-law's funeral, her mastectomy, her daughter's pregnancy. Apart from her bout with breast cancer and her husband's stroke, Schwartz has a reasonably happy existence, with none of the major difficulties such as abuse, divorce, disability and depression often found in memoirs. She dwells, therefore, on more mundane matters: gaining weight, her husband's medical problems, a cap she likes to wear when driving, squabbles with her husband over who forgot the road map and organizing family get-togethers. But a few gems surface amid the quotidian onslaught. Thinking back to her horseback-riding girlhood, she realizes that "tomboys who are over fifty and under ten" have similar feelings of independence and "self-containment." The single best story actually concerns her father, who grew up in a German village, ran away to join the Kaiser's army and snuck into one of Hitler's rallies before deciding that the family should flee to America. And her subtle glass-half-full outlook will appeal to Oprah's crowd: in "Negotiating Monogamy," she describes arriving at a balance "that does not necessitate leaping into someone else's bed, just the ongoing possibility of it." In spite of its attractive cover, this slim volume is unlikely to stir much general interest, although it may inspire some readers to try writing their own stories. (Feb. 14) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Brief essays about an enduring marriage, motherhood, breast cancer, and aging. Schwartz (Writing/Richard Stockton Coll.), the daughter of German immigrants, grew up in Queens in the 1950s. Ensconced in saddle shoes, plaid kilt skirts, and crew-neck sweaters, the author felt "American enough" to appreciate the survival stories told by the family: How they had outwitted the Nazis and landed in Queens. How her mother, an expert knitter, had an American job even before reaching Ellis Island. How her father swiftly bought a house with a $3.50 deposit, without even seeing the basement or the top floor. A woman of her era, Schwartz married and raised two children before beginning a career as a college professor. Even as she revels in teaching, she worries about her daughter and her 15-hour workdays: "She once invited me over for a drink and served water." The most powerful essays here deal with the author's mastectomy and her husband's heart attack: "I am not religious, I don't love ritual, so I never thought I'd be peeling apples for a Passover Seder so soon after a mastectomy. But I am. Eight days ago I was lying in Presbyterian Hospital being prepped for the removal of my left breast, and tonight I'll be dining on fine china, unused in two years, as part of a ceremony I don't have time for when I'm teaching, unless it falls on the weekend."