Wunderland(131)
Tentatively, she extends her hand. Renate studies it for a moment. At first she makes no move to do the same, and Ava bites her lip, unsure of herself again. Then, to her complete surprise, the older woman bridges the distance between them to give Ava a short but surprisingly strong hug. Startled, Ava has just enough time to return the embrace, her heart skittering, before stepping back awkwardly.
As Ava struggles to recompose herself Renate studies her again, one pink-tipped finger pressed thoughtfully to her cheek. “It’s so strange,” she says.
“What is?”
“You.” Reaching out, the older woman traces a light line from the corner of Ava’s eye to her chin. “You are,” she says, slowly, “a mixture of everything I have ever loved, and everything I have ever hated in my life.”
As Ava gazes back at her, something inside her chest seems to ineffably unknot, the way a muscle that has been cramping releases. In its wake, for the first time since learning of her mother’s death—actually, the first time in what seems like years—comes a lightness. Almost a giddiness.
“I think that makes me family,” she says.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people helped me to grow, shape, and hone this novel as it evolved. Thanks to Michael Epstein for spying—in a New Yorker piece about a somewhat obscure German memoir—the seed of an interesting narrative, and then brainstorming, cheerleading, and workshopping along as I coaxed that seed into a book. Amelia Atlas at ICM rescued me from representational wilderness and helped me sharpen and tighten the Wunderland manuscript, and Hilary Rubin Teeman offered it an extraordinary and enthusiastic home at Crown, along with narrative and stylistic suggestions that made it so much better. Thanks to Jillian Buckley for expertly shepherding me through the production process, and to Amy Schneider for her invaluable copyediting expertise. Thanks to Dr. Catherine Epstein of Amherst College for her close reading for historical and cultural context of an earlier draft, Dr. Aine Zimmerman of Hunter College for essential insights into German culture and language, and David Kay for an initial German-language proofread (all errors that remain despite these heroic efforts are mine and mine alone). Thanks to Renate Olsen for sharing recollections of her childhood in wartime and postwar Germany, and to Johannes Beilharz for granting me the use of his lovely translation of Else Lasker-Schüler’s poem “To the Prince of the Grail.” Heartfelt thanks to Jennifer Egan for providing sage professional advice and direction when I direly needed it.
Many historical sources were consulted for this project, but a few stand out as uniquely informative and of possible interest to Wunderland readers. First and foremost is Melita Maschmann’s confessional memoir Account Rendered, which provided emotional and historical insight into one woman’s incremental journey from youthful idealism to full-on Nazi fanaticism, and from intimate friendship to brutal betrayal. Victor Klemperer’s I Will Bear Witness: A Diary of the Nazi Years, 1933–1941 depicted the horrific deterioration of Jewish daily life under Nazi rule, while Joachim Fest’s Not I: Memoirs of a German Childhood explored the same period from a non-Jewish/Catholic perspective. Erica Fischer’s Aimee and Jaguar was both a breathless read and a treasure-trove of period detail, particularly regarding the onerous bureaucratic gauntlet faced by German Jews trying to flee the country. Elizabeth Harvey’s Women and the Nazi East shed fascinating light on daily life in Nazi Germany’s Labor Service programs abroad. Jonathan Mahler’s Ladies and Gentlemen, the Bronx Is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City painted a richly vivid portrait of the 1977 New York blackout, while Jillian Becker’s Hitler’s Children: The Story of the Baader-Meinhof Terrorist Gang provided compelling background for understanding the rise of Germany’s 1968 protest movement.
Novels worth their salt require smart readers along the way, and Wunderland has had so many: Hillary Jordan and Joanna Hershon provided—as always—inspiration, encouragement, and astute feedback, as did my Brooklyn writing coven (Alison Lowenstein, Julia Lichtblau, Courtney Zoffness, Maura Sheehy, Michelle Brandt, and the late and deeply missed Sarah Coleman). Joan Cody, Tom Cody, Dina McGuinn, Rozanne and Steve Epstein, Andrea Lafleur, and Amy Simon Hopwood all offered perspective and encouragement throughout various drafts, while my trusted BOCOCA mom posse (especially Amy Sirot, Julie Beglin, Virginia Terry, and Laura Sweet) weighed in dutifully and thoughtfully when called upon. Thanks too to Pam Loring for the peace and austere tranquillity of the Salty Quill Women’s Writing Retreat, and to Scott Adkins and Erin Courtney of the Brooklyn Writers Space for providing an oasis of quiet and literary camaraderie.
Last but never ever least: thanks to my amazing daughters, Katie and Hannah, for inspiring me daily and believing in me and my work (even when I don’t), and once more to Michael—as always my muse, hausfrau, and partner in creative mischief.