Book of the Week

I RODE THE SECOND WAVE

a feminist memoir

 by Fran Abrams

  

 Review by Editor Sharon Waller Knutson

Because I was a journalist, novelist, short story writer and am now a narrative poet, I read poetry books like I do novels from cover to cover and look for the story they tell in individual poems and the book as a whole. Fran’s book was easy to review because it was written in chapters..
I knew when I read the title of Fran Abrams powerful, enlightening poetry book, I RODE THE SECOND WAVE, that it was going to be a wild ride in familiar waters and I wouldn’t want to stop until I read the closing poem. I realized I was right when I read the title to the introduction, A letter to the reader, Before the Revolution, because I was there breaking the glass ceiling as a newspaper reporter and being chastised for taking a man’s job. I related completely to that poem, especially these lines:

Most women stayed home,
cooked meals, cleaned house,
and cared for children. Motherhood
was held up as the ideal. Finding
a husband was often the primary goal
of female college students.

Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique,
published in 1963, revealed that women
who felt they were missing out on careers
were not alone. The revolution began.

Both born feminists in the forties, growing up in the fifties, in college and doing a man’s job in the sixties and seventies, Fran and I would have been fast friends had she not been raised in Maryland and I in Montana. She could have helped me with my math.

Written like a novel, Fran begins her memoire in verse with Chapter 1: A Girl Grows Up
in the charming poem which begins with the lines:

Childhood, 1950s

When I think of my childhood,
I think of dandelions—
gray puffballs in the grass
entertaining me for hours.

And ends with these lines:

When I tell these stories to children today,
the reaction rarely differs.
“You didn’t have a cell phone?”
“You went outdoors by yourself?”
“You played with dandelions?”

In Chapter 2, An Educated Woman, she describes college life and her encounters with racism in two poems excerpted:

Lesson Learned in a Railroad Station

A brawny, uniformed man, looking official,
steps into my path. You can't use
that fountain, ma'am. You’ll have to go
to the other side.

My hazy brain clears.
I see a hand-lettered sign.
COLORED ONLY
it says above this fountain.

Love in Black and White

The taxi driver looked at me and said,
“Are you sure this is the address you want?”
Two dozen, four-story apartment buildings,
identical but for the colors of their doors.

A paved path led to the building I sought.
I climbed two flights of stairs and knocked.
Joe opened the door and drew me inside
with a fervent kiss. We were in love
in a segregated city.


In Chapter 3, Marriage, Motherhood and Career, Fran describes her marriage to Jerrod, the birth of their two daughters and working her way up the corporate ladder.

Excerpts from these poems tell it all:

The Feminist Encounters Reality

I was a feminist with a master’s degree
in urban planning who believed
a woman could have a career.

My first job interview after graduate school, 1969—
Upscale blue and gray conference room.
“When do you plan to marry? How long will you work
before you start a family?” I’m sure my dismay
showed on my face. My interviewers assumed
working and motherhood were mutually exclusive.
I planned to marry a year after graduating.
Children were in our plans as "eventually."

A Working Mother

Married for six years,
in love with my husband and my job.
Jerrod and I made plans to start a family.

Deep breath—I told them, “I'm pregnant.”
“That's wonderful,” was the reply.
“Just let us know what you need.”
“Some time off and a sofa in my office,”
I answered, “in case I need to put my feet up.”
I should have known these men were feminists.

They sent me to get photographed,
a headshot for press releases.
Every time it appeared in print,
I remembered being pregnant.

She ends her beautiful book with her powerful title poem:

I Rode the Second Wave of Feminism

I did not propel the wave. I witnessed
those who gave it power, admired
Bella Abzug and Gloria Steinem,
read Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique
published in 1963. I was 19.

I rode the wave,
almost drowned at times—
when my mother died
and architecture school dismissed me
half-way through my junior year of college.

I got up again,
marched back into the surf,
rode the wave,
exhilarated by possibilities,
views from the crests.

Married woman.
  Woman working.
   Working mother.

My wish is for younger women,
my own daughters and granddaughter,
to find their waves,
take a deep breath,
climb confidently onto their boards.

Although I was there in the fifties, sixties and seventies and rode the same wave as
Fran, I enjoyed seeing the revolution and evolution through Fran’s perspective. Whether you were there or just reading about it for the first time, you will be mesmerized and entranced by her well written memoir in verse.

To read Fran’s bio and other poems on this blog:

https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2023/04/storyteller-of-week.html

Purchase the book here:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/i-rode-the-second-wave-a-feminist-memoir-fran-abrams/19001832?ean=9781639886548