City of Roses: Stories from Girlhood by Mary Jane Moffat (review)

Reviews 269 City of Roses: Stories from Girlhood. By Mary Jane Moffat. (Santa Barbara: John Daniel, 1986. 115 pages, $8.95.) These are nice stories, nicely told, about what it was to be a girl in Port­ land in the ’40s and ’50s. They echo vaguely of Tillie Olsen, but without the political undercurrent or shrill tones that sometimes mar so-called “feminist” works. Moffat “survives” (to use Olsen’sterm) by essentially enjoying her life, both in process and in reflection. Unfortunately for these tales of a bright intellect growing up, their form ultimately undermines their effectiveness. Of the seven stories, the first and last show Moffat as an adult, coming to grips with her aging parents. Between lie her school days: learning to read and loving books (“I used to pray for rain so I could go home and read. In Portland prayers for rain are almost always answered”) ; at sixteen playing Juliet in the Oregon Shakespearan Festival; defeating herself as possible Rose Festival parade Princess; and finally going to Stanford and getting married. Moffat writes with an ease and economy. Her focus is on people—what they feel and do. A few quick phrases in the final story answer the essential ques­ tions on what has happened since her marriage. Description and action inter­ lock: “A bride with mud stains on the tulle of her dress somehow gave the reception a buzz of merriment.” / Yet Moffat pulls back from total truth. City of Roses is called (on its inside page) a “fictional memoir” with only the immediate family “real” and no other character “intended to resemble actual persons, living or dead.” Come on. Was Moffat cast in reality as Lady Macbeth? Tessa Cohen didn’t win as Rose Princess? This annoys me. Surely the names of the Princess, the actor playing Romeo, and the first grade teacher are matters of public record. What else is “made up”? As autobiography, Moffat presents charming histories—without great metaphoric meaning, but pleasant to experience. As fiction her stories are adequate, though hardly burning with larger issues. As “fictional memoirs” these stories leave the reader—at least this one—feeling cheated. JANET L. JACOBSEN Scottsdale, Arizona There’s Always Another Chance And Other Stories. By Elmer Kelton. Edited, with an Introduction by Lawrence Clayton. (San Angelo, Texas: Fort Concho Museum Press, 1986. 192 pages, $16.95 hardcover.) Reprinting a known novelist’s early productions seems to be a new fashion with publishers. There is more to it than simple commercial strategy. It is a typically academic, didactic, approach, founded on this optimistic ...