I can’t imagine What’s Left, my new novel, without her aunt Pia – short for Olympia. She’s one of the characters created especially for this book, unlike the ones we inherited from the end of my first published novel, and she emerges as a parallel to Cassia’s father. At key points, they work together as a sharp creative team in the transformation of the family restaurant and its holdings.
If anyone could pose a romantic rival to Cassia’s mother-to-be, wouldn’t it be Pia?
She’s the flower child, the hippie chick, and then the earth mother – the height of femininity, from one of his perspectives. She also reintroduces Cassia’s family to its ethnic culture, especially the concept of kefi, or living with gusto (and much more). She’s the one the children naturally turn to for comfort or playful. And she has style to spare.
Carmichael’s, the restaurant her family owns in my new novel, has me looking more closely at others.
There’s no escaping food itself or American culinary trends in my new novel, What’s Left – not when the family’s livelihood and fortune are built around their landmark restaurant. What I did, however, escape is a story relating the day-to-day cartoon sequences of a kitchen demimonde of cooks, dishwashers, and wait staff, out of sight in the back, and the quirky demands of customers beyond the swinging service door and long countertop, out in front. My daughter, a pro in the hospitality industry, already has a fine draft of a novel addressing those, thank you. Besides, I touched on some of those incidents in the opening chapters of my novel, Promise.
Since my new work grows out of a template established at the ending of my first published novel, where her parents’ generation is already immersed in change, it seemed natural to have them look toward innovation and evolution rather than remain tradition-bound in hamburgers and fried chicken. For one thing, they were toying with Buddhism, with its vegetarian traditions.
Let me say simply that the possibilities have led to many heated discussions in our household, married as I am to a well-informed foodie and genius cook in her own right. And that’s before we get to the aforesaid daughter.
In the time since Cassia’s parents’ marriage, the awareness of food options and availability of ingredients in America has advanced by light years.
When her uncle Dimitri turns to an astrological chart as support for his sales pitch to her father-to-be, this passage was included in an early version of my new novel, What’s Left.
Come on now, Dimitri! You don’t expect me to believe any of that mumbo jumbo!
I seem to recall you said the same thing about meditation, back when your lover wanted you to sample it, Nita says, entering the kitchen.
Suppose I was trying to tell you about the subways for the first time, right now? If you hadn’t already tried it, you wouldn’t believe a word I told you.
~*~
I eliminated it from the final version for several reasons. One, I felt that by now her future father was far enough along in his spiritual practice to be ready to listen to arcane thought systems, even if he might challenge their validity. Also, I felt this relied too much on a backstory that was no longer relevant to the work at hand.
But Cassia’s family, from her great-grandmothers on down in the New World, likely felt otherwise.
Have you studied or practiced astrology? Palmistry? Tarot? The coins of I Ching? Some other arcane pathway, like the tea leaves or coffee grounds Cassia’s great-grandmothers might have consulted? Or do you know someone who undertakes any of these? What’s your perspective? Any personal insights?
~*~
Greek goddess, 4th century BCE, part of a statue in Musee Royal de Mariemont. Photo by Ad Meskens via Wikimedia Commons.)
A crucial moment in my new novel, What’s Left, occurs when her uncle Dimitri tries to convince her father-to-be to quit his career and move in with them, without actually offering him an income or much else.
As I noted in an earlier draft: Manoula remembers all of this clearly. Says her brother’s chuckle perplexed Baba. Here’s her ensemble extending some kind of ambiguous invitation, on the one hand, and simultaneously affronting his professional portfolio, on the other.
~*~
Unlike Cassia’s Baba, I’ve tended to make big moves like this more deliberately. Even so, some of my moves, in retrospect, still amaze me. Relocating with all of our goods in a U-Haul without an apartment awaiting us halfway across the continent was one of them.
But throw the promise of hot love into the mix? Now it gets interesting!
Tell us some decision you’ve made that might seem irrational to those around you. How did it turn out? Would you do it again, given the chance?
~*~
Moussaka with Greek potatoes at Psaropoulo, Hydra, via Wikimedia Commons
In the family, Cassia may have had food like this.
In my new novel, What’s Left, her aunt Nita embodies a rare quality I’ve come to appreciate. She’s someone who seems to know everyone. She takes an interest in their lives and families. Remembers details. Asks questions. Suggests social connections, job opportunities, resources.
She’s also someone people trust. You can confide in her, find consolation, comfort, compassion.
In the bigger picture, she’s a kind of person who makes community function. I can make a list of people I’ve known who do that.
In my new novel, What’s Left, her parents’ generation recognizes their family business will need to make big changes for survival. For her uncle Dimitri, that includes corporate planning and big investment, once the dust settles.
But first, he has to see exactly what they’ve inherited.
~*~
No matter how much I like the details that shape the events, some just had to be cut from the final story:
Carmichael’s, the restaurant her family owns in my new novel, has me looking more closely at others.
One of the conundrums I’m left with in my new novel, What’s Left: What if you don’t like her father, her deceased Baba, as she recovers him? (Or recovers from him.) Is it essential to your enjoyment of the story?
The big break with the status quo that occurs in my new novel, What’s Left, still demands a respect for all that’s led up to the transformation.
As she perceives, from a customer’s point of view:
They miss the reliable owners’ familiar faces behind the stools and salt and pepper shakers, along with their comforting banter. Could we ever fill their sturdy shoes? Can we live up to their dependable standards or their reasonable prices? Can we even serve a decent cup of coffee or will we lose our shirts and have to quit the place?
The challenge and opportunity go way beyond that.
It’s a sharp break to a new generation, in more ways than one.
Cassia never has to consider this with her own brothers:
From everything I see, there’s an uncommon bond between the brothers, despite their sexual differences. Yes, they’ve both been promiscuous – and then settled in.
Or does she?
~*~
In writing a novel that’s told by a single character like Cassia, I have to remember that she knows far more about her family than I ever will. Maybe I can’t answer everything, but suppose you had an opportunity?
What would you ask Cassia over dinner? Or somebody in your own family, one on one? (Present or past?)
~*~
Greek salad (horiatiki salata) at Psaropoulo restaurant, Hydra, via Wikimedia Commons
In the family, Cassia may have had food like this.
In some family businesses, the accounting can be rather slipshod. Many of the figures might be stored in someone’s head, rather than on paper. Or on random slips stuffed in a cigar box. Or even scattered around an office. Maybe it’s just one of the hazards of being your own boss.
In my new novel, What’s Left, her grandfather, Stavros, continued some of that custom, but not nearly as much as his parents and their business partners, who happened to be siblings.
When her uncle Dimitri returns to town with a Masters of Business Administration in hand, he needs to get those numbers in order quickly if there’s to be anything of the restaurant and its investments for his brothers and sisters and himself to inherit. It’s a race with time, even before his parents die in their prime, victims of a late-night car crash.
~*~
From what Nita’s said, I’m sure Dimitri was putting in much less – formally, at least. My guess is that he was always thinking about our venture, and many of the social events he attended were primarily for schmoozing. I’d ask Barney, if he’d only answer his phone. And these days, whenever I run into him somewhere, I feel the brush-off. As for knocking on his door? Not as things stand now. Oh, well, maybe someday.
~*~
Maybe we’ll always have things we’re supposed to do but shrug off all the same. Put them aside, unfinished. Simply ignored them. And then there are the emotional blowups. (I’ve been accused of being stuck at age 14 or 17 on that front. What’s wrong with that?)
Have you ever wanted the adults in your life to be, well, more grown up? Like even answering your questions?
~*~
In my novel, the family restaurant could have been like this.
Miss Mendon diner, Worcester, Massachusetts, by Liz West, Boxborough, Massachusetts, via Wikimedia Commons.
One thing her great-grandparents Ilias and Maria introduce to my new novel, What’s Left, is the acknowledgement of how much of the family’s business success results from the members who’ve joined in freely, rather than been born into its tree.
Their daughter, Bella, certainly reinforces the triumph, as do Graham, Pia, Yin, and Cassia’s father a generation later.
So where will it go from there? Is there even really room for more? What if the new members don’t get along?
~*~
In recent years I learned that my own family history would have been much different if two of the wives had not conflicted with each other. Do you know of similar discord?
At one point, Cassia admits being a bit jealous of her brothers’ girlfriends. Have you ever felt the same?
~*~
Veiled head for insertion in a female statue. The nose, the back of the head, and a section near the right ear were affixed. Marble. 2nd century BCE. Archaeological Museum of Rhodes. (Photo by Jebulon via Wikimedia Commons.)
Jnana's Red Barn 