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damsorrow 's review for:
Welcome To Shirley
by Kelly McMasters
In the early 1980s, my great-grandmother, a first-gen puerto rican who had lived in the shit parts of the Bronx all her life bought a tiny house in Shirley, NY at 10 Lafayette Drive. I remember it well. I fell through the cover to the septic tank and went up to my knee in pure cess. When my mom fished me out and ran me to the bathroom, and my great-grandmother was outside yelling, "I saved the shoe! I saved the shoe!"
I saw a reviewlet for this in Oprah and knew I had to pick it up. When I told my mother about the Brookhaven superfund situation that backdrops the personal narrative she said, "Oh, that's why all the neighbors' hair turned orange."
But I was a little disappointed with the book, to be honest. It was not gripping, despite the fascinating subject matter. Maybe too much gauzy nostalgia, not enough synthesis, I dunno.
I saw a reviewlet for this in Oprah and knew I had to pick it up. When I told my mother about the Brookhaven superfund situation that backdrops the personal narrative she said, "Oh, that's why all the neighbors' hair turned orange."
But I was a little disappointed with the book, to be honest. It was not gripping, despite the fascinating subject matter. Maybe too much gauzy nostalgia, not enough synthesis, I dunno.