Again, the Washington Independent Review of Books has published my work. I really enjoyed reading this novel, so do check it out. Here’s my review:
Ivy Puddingstone loves her mother deeply, but having Annabel Cooper as a mom is a challenge because fragile, artistic Annabel wants to save the world. In The Many Mothers of Ivy Puddingstone, she and Ivy take turns narrating the twists and turns of their lives over an extended period, 1964 to 2020.
Not only does Randy Susan Meyers’ latest novel offer baby boomers a timely reminder of the 1960s, when activism was considered a worthwhile endeavor, but it also provides a captivating course on political resistance for the rest of us as we enter the age of Trump 2.0. Back we go to the years when young women read Ms. Magazine and protest marches were well attended, when switching sex partners was a topic that a group of adult friends might discuss as a valid option, and citizens could succeed at opposing highway expansion in a major American city.
The action begins in Mississippi. Annabel, a college freshman, has somehow convinced her parents to allow her to join a group of naïve but dedicated volunteers who are registering Blacks to vote during the Freedom Summer, a pivotal moment in the Civil Rights Movement. The following year, she joins a commune in Boston’s Mission Hill with four like-minded couples and a new boyfriend, Guthrie. They share everything from granola-making to household chores and childrearing duties. The rambling home is dubbed “Puddingstone” because of the construction material used in its foundation.
While pregnant, Annabel worries about what kind of planet her child will inherit. She’s not alone. Her commune mates are convinced their kids “need to know the world we brought them into and why we’re working to change it.” Perhaps it’s for this reason that, a few years on, they allow 5-year-old Ivy and her younger brother to listen in as one of the mothers reads aloud a New York Times report on the shooting at Kent State. The adults subsequently agonize over the decision to expose their offspring to such horror.
Diantha, the eldest of the five mothers, receives an inheritance that enables her to buy an old farmhouse in Vermont, which she christens “the Roundhouse,” inspired by Joni Mitchell lyrics. It’s Diantha who comes up with the idea of sending the children there so that the commune’s adults — who will take turns traveling to Vermont for parenting duties — can stay in Boston and devote more time to their favorite activity (saving the world).
The seven kids, however, aren’t so sure politics is the prime motivation for their exile. At first, they suffer in silence. “I wanted to be as crucial to my mother as Sojourner Graphics and amnesty, the meaning of which was beyond my understanding,” thinks Ivy. “I lacked the vocabulary or courage to say that the only treat I needed was her.” She’s disappointed when Annabel and Guthrie don’t show up to celebrate her birthday and laments what she calls the “sideways mothering” she experiences. Still, the Roundhouse kids breathe fresh air, learn to survive under Diantha’s strict rules, and establish strong bonds with each other.
What could possibly go wrong?
Meyers has done an excellent job recreating late-20th-century history that may be unfamiliar to many readers. An incredible amount of research went into writing the book — which comes complete with a bibliography — and the author adds a note explaining that the story was inspired by old friends from Mission Hill who lived in a commune and toyed with the idea of sending their offspring to a Vermont farm. The premise is engaging, and the polished prose keeps us eagerly turning pages.
Meyers also touches on how uniquely difficult life can be for young women. Here, Diantha explains the appeal of communal living to 12-year-old Ivy:
“Here’s a secret. I don’t know the singular way to be a mother. Maybe nobody does. I’ve been hard on you because this world treats girls and women so hard. I want you to grow up strong. I’m not so worried about the boys. Men enter the world with three steps up. That’s why we need places like [Roundhouse]. So we don’t put all the burden on each woman’s shoulders.”
My only issue with this otherwise fun novel is the sheer number of people involved. Five sets of parents plus seven children make for a lot of minor characters to follow. Still, it wouldn’t be such a compelling read without evoking the chaos that communal living creates. We come to care about Annabel and Ivy and feel especially grateful that Meyers includes final chapters that allow us to see what roads the grown-up Roundhouse kids choose to journey down.
