Winter's Deep

We are in the depths of winter now, darkness and chill, temperatures plummeting to minus thirty, with a burning wind. Last night, I took a walk with my Bernese Mountain dog, Monty Booh, and my daughter, Rosy. The air was still, so cold and raw we wrapped our wool scarves over our faces. It was an extraordinarily gorgeous night. The sky was a deep midnight blue, the winter-warped trees filagree lace against that wash of indigo. And the moon was full, round and golden. Though we could only stay out for a short while, it was bracing. Hibernating too long and one gets stale.

I love my winter walks on La Montagne, my X-country skiing around and about, the sun warm on my face, or if it is one of those silvery days, the cocoon-like magic inside the woods.

I do savour the stillness, the quiet of winter, the palette that is mostly silvery-gray and white. It is good writing and reading weather. Cozy weather. Inside, of course with a blazing fire and perhaps some hot cider spiked with Calvedos.

Speaking of writing and reading, we lost J.D. Salinger this week. With all of the homages to the reclusive author, one of his quotes from an interview gathers in my mind. "I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure."

White Space Voted Notable Book of the Year!

January, 2010: The White Space Between is VOTED NOTABLE BOOK OF THE YEAR BY BELLETRISTA, CELEBRATING WOMEN WRITERS AROUND THE WORLD. Check out this interesting
site focusing on literature by women.


http://www.belletrista.com/2010/issue3/nandn_5_us.php

My (M)other Self

I recently spent the holidays with my eighty-three-year-old mother and it was a fulfilling visit. No, it wasn't only because of the balmy Florida warmth, the palm trees and salt-wind,the euphoric dips into the waves, a welcome change from the burning chill of the Montreal winter. My mom and I actually enjoyed one another's company. We talked books, kids, movies. I told her about my latest novel-in-progress and she attempted to teach me Bridge(disaster). We shared a Thai dinner and went for manicures, where I chose her favorite hue, "Mod About You," an opaque pinky-white that I know will look out of time and season back up North, but is a girly sinew of connection with my mom, once we are separated again geographically.

I admit: my relationship with my mom was not always easy. As a child, I was afraid of her, daunted, and longed for her love, attention, and approval, most of all, her time. She was a busy doctor, a psychiatrist, and worked long, hard hours, leaving early and arriving home late. I often yearned for one of those at-home moms who fixed nourishing breakfasts, made sure all my homework was packed into my school satchel, and welcomed me and my pals in a floral apron with a tray of home-baked goodies and glasses of milk. (A cliche, I know, but if one doesn't peer beneath the surface, a tempting one for me, to have one of those fifties TV moms.) I had a different sort of mother, a professional, juggling work and motherhood.

As a teen, like so many other adolescent daughters, my mom enraged me, I "hated" her, and even well into my twenties, my relationship with her was fraught. I recall a long period of not speaking to my mother, cutting off all contact.

What draining energy that silent treatment exacted! What a toll it took upon me: my heart, my soul, and my creativity. That feeling of being all bunched up with mute rage. Even remembering it now is painful.

When one is unforgiving, whatever the injury, it saps vitality, being angry just takes so much out of you.

My mother the doctor, the psychiatrist, was one of the few women in her medical school class at NYU. She was the only working mom I knew. All of my friends' mothers fit my childhood fantasy, the Mad-Men-Mom cliche.

My mother and father (also a doctor)had a tough marriage, though they remained together for nineteen years. I realize now, my mother was often overwhelmed, perhaps anxious and melancholy, during spells of my childhood and adolescence. Now, as a mom myself,I finally have rachmones for her.

I don't know exactly when I began to forgive my mother; I suspect it happened gradually, even unconsciously at first. Perhaps when I myself became a mother, I was able to understand both the challenges and the joys of motherhood. At a certain point, I realized that my mom would not be around forever, and that I longed to be closer to her, to get to know her better.

With age, my mother has certainly mellowed. And perhaps I have as well.

I feel at peace that I have a relationship with my mom after so many years of angst. Not to say that we don't ever get on each other's nerves. I can laugh at some of the small irritants, like the Bikram Yoga one could do in mom's Florida condo and our little game of me (or my Montreal family)lowering the temp in the middle of the night, while mom promptly raises it upon one of her nocturnal trips to the bathroom. And that I need earplugs when she is listening to one of her favorite TV programs, Antiques Road Show, or the news with her fave, Brian Williams. Mom, you're right: Antiques Road Show is addictive and Brian Williams--no nonsense, no affectation, just the news, delivered with a deep, limpid voice--is a refreshing change from many anchors.

These days, mom and I are more careful and gentle in our responses to each other. We both know: life is not eternal, we are not immortal. Well,duh.

We learn from each other. And we enjoy one another. It's a gift. Hard won.

Canadian Jewish News Article

Dear Friends,

Take a look at the lovely article about The White Space Between and my recent Trepman talk at the Jewish Public Library.

Thanks to The Canadian Jewish News for doing the piece and to the JPL for having me.

Here's the link:

http://www.cjnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=18139&Itemid=86

YOUNG WRITER'S WORKSHOP: REGISTRATION OPEN

WHAT’S THE STORY?

A fiction workshop for young writers

Work intensively with an award-winning, professional novelist and short story author on developing your craft and your own portfolio of stories. Find out how to tap into your richest, deepest material and crack open your stories. Supportive peer critique and the instructor’s critical expertise will help you to get to the next level in your writing. In addition, you will create new stories during class, stimulated by fun catalysts and springboards. We’ll break short story craft down into its key elements, such as voice and point-of-view, (who’s talking?), character (who’s who), action (what’s happening?) dialogue (let’s talk), and setting (where it’s at). In addition, the workshop leader will discuss a few ideal markets for young writers.

This workshop is open to Secondary I, II, & III students from any secondary school. Held at Lower Canada College, 4099 Royal Ave., NDG, Room/L308

Eight Weeks, Thursday afternoons, January 14-March 4th, 4:30 p.m.-6:00 p.m.,

Workshop fee: $200, payable to the instructor, which will reserve your place:
Ami Sands Brodoff
4401 Rosedale Avenue
Montreal, QC H4B 2G8

For more information, please contact Ami at: (514)-481-5270, ami-sands@sympatico.ca.

Ami Sands Brodoff is an award-winning novelist and short story author. Her latest work, the novel, The White Space Between, about a mother and daughter grappling with the impact of the Holocaust won the Canadian Jewish Book Award for Fiction. Ami is also the author of a volume of stories, Bloodknots, short-listed for the Re-Lit Award and the novel, Can You See Me? which focuses on a family struggling with schizophrenia. An excerpt of that book was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Ami has won fellowships to Yaddo, The Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, The Ragdale Foundation, The St. James Cavalier Centre for Creativity in Malta and writes for The Globe and Mail, Quill and Quire, The Gazette, and national magazines. Visit her website at Amisandsbrodoff.com, as well as her blog: chez-ami.blogspot.com

Pics from the JPL Reception for The White Space Between

Enjoy these pics, taken by my daughter, Rosamond, at the reception following the Paul Trepman Memorial Lecture at the Jewish Public Library on November 18th, where I spoke about the tension between void and voice,when honouring Holocaust Remembrance, read excerpts from The White Space Between, and shared slides from our own memory book: images of our lost extended family, their home village of Slatinskedaly in Czechoslovakia, and maps of the area at key points in history.

















Thanks to the JPL for having me!

Please Join Me on Nov. 18th for a Special Event!

I am pleased to invite you to join me at the Paul Trepman Memorial Lecture Series where I will present an illustrated book talk on my novel, The White Space Between.
I will be introduced by Dr. Lawrence Knight, Associate Professor of
Medicine, McGill University, and want to express my thanks to the Jewish Public Library for their kind invitation.

Jewish Public Library, 5151 Cote Ste-Catherine Road, 7.30 pm Wednesday November 18

Sponsored by the Paul Trepman Memorial Lecture Fund of the JPL and of the Montreal Holocaust Memorial Centre.