A Traveler's Library » Cape Cod

Discover Cape Cod in a Summer Read

pen4hire — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 08:38:00 +0000

Destination: Cape Cod

Book: Summer Shift (NEW July 2010)by Lynn Kiele Bonasia

Fried clams

Mmmmm, a basket of fried clams with some macaroni salad to carry down to the rocks along the shore sounds might good right now. The main drawback to reading this book on a Cape Cod Beach would be the constant temptation to stop reading and have a fried clam break.

You see, the book’s heroine owns a restaurant in a small town in Cape Cod (redundancy alert–are there any large towns on Cape Cod?). She has run the restaurant for 17 years, and her alcoholic husband wrapped his car around a tree a short time after they were married, so she’s discontentedly single.

As you may remember, I’m not crazy about romances, but this one has the virtue of presenting a few serious issues along the way. Her aunt has Alzheimer’s, her neighbor has Parkinson’s disease, and a cook at the restaurant has synesthesia–which isn’t as scary as it sounds–he feels shapes in things he tastes. Then there is the problem of letting go of the past, reconciling with an old love, and accepting her own maturing.

Sounds pretty interesting, and I love the setting, but I couldn’t warm up to the main character. That creates a real problem. I really didn’t like her very much. And she didn’t go out of her way to persuade me that I should like her.

As you may recall, I’m not crazy about romances, anyhow. But I’m trying not to over analyze a book that probably will be read with sand between the pages and grease marks from the fried clams on the pages. Here’s a nice description of the sea, that also tells us the main theme of the book. Time softens rough edges.

“She got out of the car and made her way down the narrow path that led from the house to the beach. When she got there, the horizon was defined by a deeper shade of black. Covered by a thin veil, the moon threw off enough light for Mary to see something blue near her foot, perhaps a dried jellyfish that had gotten tangled in a clump of eelgrass churned up in a recent storm. Somewhere out there, a baby winter flounder had lost its home. Mary bent down to examine the blue object, a shard of glass, Noxema blue, not officially sea glass yet, too clean and sharp at the edges. She picked it up and tossed it out into the water, where it, like everything else in time’s cauldron, would be sufficiently pulverized.”

Saltwater Grille

Oh, yes, Bonasia includes some recipes from the clam shack at the back of the book. Although the clam shack is a fictional place, the recipes were developed at the very real Saltwater Grill in Orleans, Massachusetts.

Enormous thanks to Alexandra Grabbe for scurrying around the Cape and taking these nice photographs. If you’re heading to Cape Cod, I hope you’ll visit Alexandra’s web site about a green B & B in Wellfleet on Cape Cod that she and her husband own. When her customers want something to read, Alexandra supplies a collection of books which she talks about in her blog, Wellfleet Today.

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Q & A with Author of French Graffiti

pen4hire — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 08:00:43 +0000

France on Friday

AN INTERVIEW WITH ALEXANDRA GRABBE

Alexandra Grabbe

Alexandra Grabbe married a French man and moved to Paris as a young woman. She stayed in France with her husband and children until their divorce, and then lived there with her 2nd husband before returning to the United States to run Chez Sven, a green B & B on Cape Cod, in Massachusetts.

In the 1990′s she published a book of essays about her experiences from 1970 to 1995. The writing is delicious, spunky, and evocative of the France that changed even as she did.

She survived the cuisine competition by relying on Julia Child, became a shopping and fashion expert (the scarves oo-la-la) and mastered the art of picking Camembert.

Alexandra Grabbe: France has changed a lot since 1970. For instance, CNN did not exist when my first child was born. I had to work at getting English into my kids’ lives. Records, books, playmates, American au pairs, trips to Cape Cod every summer.

At the same time, their father was French, so I was trying to act French. Paris seems like a very romantic place to live, but adjusting to a foreign culture is not easy. You get all these curve balls thrown at you.

At one point in the early eighties, I had a volunteer job [in a radio station]. The station was looking for a program director/manager. I applied and was told, “You are obviously qualified, but you’re American, and a woman. I can’t hire you.” [She lost another job because she rejected a sexual proposition from the boss.]

So, I started doing volunteer work at my daughters’ international school instead. I joined American Wives of Europeans. I sought out American friends. I was on the PTA and edited the American Section Newsletter for five years.

In my head, I had already moved back. I never fit into France. The USA felt like an old shoe, rediscovered at the back of a closet, and so incredibly comfy.

Q: Do you ever get homesick for Paris?

A.G.: Yes. I miss the beautiful old buildings. For two years, after my divorce in 1989, I did relocation [finding homes for people who had moved to Paris] so I knew the nicer neighborhoods quite well. I loved choosing apartments for American businessmen.

In the nineties, I worked as editorial assistant to Barbara Chase-Riboud and got to look out over the Luxembourg Gardens every morning while we discussed the day’s schedule.

Also, when I lived in St. Germain with Sven, my second husband, we would take the RER [the Paris Metro] into the city on Saturdays, arriving at the top of the Champs or Les Halles, and enjoy a museum, then a movie, and finally dinner.

Q: What, if anything, do you miss from those days?

A.G.:

The sophistication. Some rubs off on any American who spends time there.
Open-air markets.
Cheese shops.
The level of competency most people have in the kitchen.
Wine culture. I remember once my ex-husband’s godfather went to his wine cellar and produced a bottle of Bordeaux from 1947, the year I was born.
Movie culture: people talk with admiration about directors, not actors.
I used to speak French well enough to have my own radio show. I don’t speak it very often anymore. I miss the feel of the language.

Q: Have you been tempted to write a book about your experiences living anyplace else?

A. G.: I actually have written a novel set in France but am not ready to publish it yet. I’ve also finished a narrative non-fiction manuscript that describes what is a foreign country to most of us: extreme old age.

Thanks to Alexandra, for giving us a taste of France. And if you would like to see her book, French Graffiti, look on her web site for how to order.

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Travel to a Cape Cod Town in this Novel

pen4hire — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 08:00:59 +0000

Cape Cod Beach

Destination: Wellfleet, Massachusetts, Cape Cod, New England, United States

Books: The Giant’s House: A Romance by Elizabeth McCracken

A GUEST POST by Alexandra Grabbe

Alexandra is not only a traveler herself, but runs a bed and breakfast on Cape Cod, in case you need a place to stay after this novel inspires you to travel there.

I met Elizabeth McCracken last year when she spent a weekend at my B&B. Reading her latest book, An Exact Replica of a Figment of my Imagination, sent me off to the library in search of The Giant’s House: A Romance, published in 1996.

Provincetown Fine Arts Works Center writer's residence

Elizabeth was twice a fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Works Center on Cape Cod and worked as a librarian for a number of years. She may have based the library in the book on the public library here in Wellfleet, Massachusetts. Nobody but Elizabeth knows for sure and she’s not telling.

In her first novel, Elizabeth McCracken lets her imagination run wild, and we traipse after her down a quirky side street in a fictitious Cape Cod town, charmed both by the characters she has created and her skill at storytelling.

Here’s the plot: Peggy Cort, a lonely twenty-six-year-old librarian heading toward spinsterhood, takes a personal interest in James Carlson Sweatt, a gentle bookworm, already quite tall at age eleven, who will grow into a gentle giant, eight feet seven inches, and become the tallest man in the world.

Peggy’s passion for James evolves from curiosity to admiration to love, which she does not express until 1960, a decade after their initial meeting beside the circulation desk. And, yes, there’s romance, as the title indicates. Oh, I know. The whole thing sounds highly unlikely, and yet it works. James has gigantism, a rare disease, which happens to be fatal. Their unique friendship allows him to explore his feelings on being different.

The real Cape Cod I know and love is rendered with precision. We see the Provincetown bar where James’ mother, abandoned by her husband, drinks a bit too hard, the quaint little town of “Brewsterville” where Peggy and James live, the strip malls of Hyannis where custom shoes are provided in ever-greater sizes in exchange for appearances as THE WORLD’S TALLEST BOY, a gig Peggy sees, at first, as exploitation.

There’s even a chapter set in Wellfleet, my home town. The pace on Cape Cod, in the off-season, is so different from the tourist rush of summer that it’s refreshing to find an accurate description, as if a photographer had focused in on the weathered face of a single shell fisherman working the flats rather than vacationers at play in the same picturesque harbor.

Cape Cod houses, with their low ceilings, are not ideal for giants, so it’s perfectly plausible that James’ family would move him into larger quarters in a back yard cottage, custom-built thanks to money raised by Peggy, during a campaign similar to one organized here three years ago to pay medical bills incurred by a favorite son, injured in a skateboard accident.

Soon the Brewsterville locals are dropping by, hoping for a glimpse of the greatest attraction in town. Of course, the tourists follow.

Some people came out specifically to visit James; some came for the ocean and happened upon him, more impressive than the ocean because no philosopher ever wonderingly addressed him, no poet compared him to God or a lover’s restless body. Moreover, the ocean does not grant autographs. James did, politely, and then asked how you were enjoying your visit.

That James’s Aunt Caroline should turn his cottage, with its custom furniture, into a museum seems the logical conclusion, but it is the tender relationship between two misfits that we remember months after finishing this exquisitely rendered novel. The Giant’s House: A Romance has been called a “small masterpiece,” and I agree.

Alexandra Grabbe

Alexandra Grabbe raised three children in Paris, France, where she worked as a freelance writer, a talk-show host, and an editorial assistant. She moved to Wellfleet, MA in 1997 to care for her elderly parents. Six years ago, Alexandra started Chez Sven Bed & Breakfast. She blogs about the experience of being an innkeeper and living green on Cape Cod.

Alexandra: Thanks so much for bringing this novel to our attention. And I want to commend Alexandra for her support of books, independent book sellers and writers. She buys books by the best new authors and places them in her B & B for her guests to enjoy. Way to go, Alexandara!

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