Moed, C.O. It Was Her New York. Rootstock Publishing, 2024.
Reason read: this was an Early Review from LibraryThing.
Not even fifty years old, Moen is taking care of a mother who rarely recognizes them. Dementia is a cruel disease. Each chapter, each page of It was Her New York reminded me of the tiny whirlpools you see in rivers when the water swirls around jagged rocks and half submerged rotting tree limbs. The vortex of water only hints at what is happening below the surface. The obvious story is Moed’s juggling of taking care of their mother, Florence. The biting humor and loving sarcasm as if the woman was another item on an ever-growing chore list. The subtext is a keen sense of observation and a valiant effort to keep Moen’s sense of self. Around the edges is a portrait of society and sexuality, religion and relationships in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Every page is painted with loving care and uses all the colors. Although there are no traditional chapters and very few proper paragraphs, It Was Her New York packs a punch, especially anyone taking care a parent in the last stages of life. Does it make sense to say there is a warmth to their bite?
As a stubborn librarian who traditionally only borrows books the highest compliment I can pay a writer is to go out and buy their book. When it comes to It Was Her New York, I bought two.
Author fact: I loved Moed’s style of writing so much I want to chase down everything they have ever written.
Book trivia: reading It Was Her New York on my phone was almost a crime. The photographs are not big or bold and some are not even in focus. Instead they are gritty, soul-baring, and brutally honest.
Playlist: “Rock Steady” by Aretha Franklin, Bach, Basie, Beethoven, “Begin the Beguine”, Brahms, Chopin, Cole Porter’s “You’re the Top”, Coltrane, “Too Hot to Trot” by the Commodores, Debussy’s “Clair de Lune”, Duke, Ella, Getz, Linszt, Mozart, Sinatra, and Torme.
~*LunaSea*~ 