The War Of The Rosens

The War Of The Rosens

Janice Eidus

Language: English

Pages: 245

ISBN: 1933016388

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The War of the Rosens, set in 1965, is about an eccentric Jewish family in the Bronx in which the sibling rivalry between two young sisters—one of whom is seriously ill—reaches a danger point, forcing each family member to face the limitations and complexities of love and faith.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

of Awe, she calls it. Or The Year of Mary, Glinda, and God. Emma’s parents look back upon that year, too, with anger and sorrow, but also with affection for their younger selves, a man and a woman desperate to display their love as perfect and seamless, despite the fact that, like all true love, it contained loose stitches and ragged edges. It was the year Emma began seeing shades of grey in a world she’d known only as black and white; the year she began questioning why evil coexists with good;

see what Bonita will say about Marvin. Despite the fact that Bonita is her current best friend, May doesn’t trust her. Bonita, gazing across the room, seems distracted. May follows her friend’s gaze and her eyes alight on Bonita’s prized doll collection. Bonita’s rich aunt in Great Neck orders these dolls in their wonderful costumes from all over the world. May loves Bonita’s ultra-feminine dolls, these porcelain, fragile, vividly painted flamenco dancers, ballerinas, English governesses, Dutch

switches to an elegant Spanish accent, reminding Emma of the male flamenco dancers she’s seen on T.V. “Cuanto le gusta,” he sings, clicking his heels dramatically. Emma holds her breath as he stares at her for a long minute. Is he disappointed by her makeshift, poor-girl costume? She twirls her cape and swings her broom, trying to appear witchy, powerful, and in-control. “Double, double, toil and trouble,” he finally says, “fire burn, and cauldron bubble.” Emma doesn’t understand what these

eating so fast she practically chokes. Would either of her parents notice if she turned blue in the face and couldn’t breathe and died right before their eyes? She tosses her napkin onto the table, trying to stifle her anger. Best to remain beneath whatever remnants of Emma-radar either of them might still possess. She walks quickly to her room, throws on her jacket, and then is flying out the door, now eager to get away from them. Far too impatient to wait for the elevator, she races down the

tough and resolute, to help her to survive in a world without God or gods; it is he who has loved her beyond reason since the day she was born. He watches how purposefully Emma eats her meal, with no apparent self-consciousness, seeming to be relaxed once more in his presence. In her typically slow, deliberate manner, she drenches her French toast in syrup and butter, pausing to sprinkle cinnamon on the soft, egg-soaked bread, clearly savoring every bite. Sometimes in the past, her slowness at

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