Exciting News! Poles Apart is now available for Kindle on Amazon! You can now read Poles Apart on any e-book format.

To celebrate the Kindle release I’m offering a free digital copy of Frieda’s Favorites, the cookbook companion to Poles Apart, with any purchase of this award-winning novel during the month of April – that’s any purchase at all, in print or any e-format. All you have to do is make your purchase and email me the receipt at audrey@audreyrlwyatt.com. I will then send you the PDF with her yummy recipes.

To tempt your tastebuds, here’s a list of the recipes that Frieda included, in her own inimitable style:

Blintzes

Challah

Borscht

Chicken Soup

Knaiydleach (matzo balls)

Chopped Liver

Gefilte Fish

Kasha Varnishkes

Kreplach

Noodle Kugel

Brisket

Chicken Paprikash

Coconut Bars

Mandelbröt

Charoses

Potato Latkes

Here’s how to order print or Kindle from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Poles-Apart-Audrey-RL-Wyatt/dp/144999489X/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1364933111&sr=8-6&keywords=poles+apart

Here’s how to order an e-book in another format: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/27202

If you prefer purchase at your local indie bookstore just scan and email that receipt. No one will be left out of the celebration!

Please forward this email widely – the more the merrier!

And if you feel like writing a review, I thank you in advance.

A while back a kind writer/reviewer named Barbara Snow reviewed Poles Apart on the Neworld Review book site. I’ve posted links to the review around the social media universe but just realized that I have been remiss in posting it here. So I’m doing my website one better, I’m posting the review itself as a blog post. I hope you enjoy Barbara’s review as much as I have.

Feel free to check out Neworld Review at www.neworldreview.com. Barbara is a regular reviewer there.

Poles Apart

LitSisters Publishing | Phoenix

Reviewed by Barbara Snow

A good story shows us people struggling to change, to make life better. It makes us care about them enough to forget that we’re reading a story and inspires us to changes of our own. The characters in Poles Apart are lovable in their humanness and forgivable in their fears and confusion, particularly since the patterns with which they struggle result from some of the most horrendous experiences possible.

Chaim Schlessel spent nearly half of his formative teen years in Auschwitz and lost his family there. He committed to living his life fully and joyfully as the only way to make sure the oppressors failed in their attempt to destroy him and his people. Unfortunately his refusal to speak of the past created a void for his son David, who when confronted with the atrocities that obliterated his family, had no way to comprehend or integrate such history.

This is a story about the damage to good people when truth is feared and fear deepens the darkness inside. It is a delightful snapshot into the dynamics of a modern Jewish family living in a typical mid-western city—Cleveland, OH. It is also a testament to the ability of loving family (whether it’s the one you were born into or one you chose) to heal the wounds of the past and support the freedom to be authentic.

While Poles Apart is a pleasurable read, it does not dodge the horrors that are part of our collective history. The memories of horrors that are meted out in tolerable measure still cause the stomach to clench and the body to shiver. Wyatt does an admirable job, particularly since she writes based on personal knowledge. It is appropriate and necessary to hold the human potential for destruction in consciousness. Americans are not exempt. The holocausts in this country began with the extermination of 19 million Native Americans and continued with blacks, and any others who become “demonized” by the perceived ruling class. Adolph Hitler actually stated that he used the model of the U.S. Government’s treatment of Native Americans in his design for the concentration camps.

This book does not try for the kind of distance that addresses the mass manipulation of citizens by their government. It is close to home and heart—close to the places where you and I, live with a relative sense of security. It reminds us of the ripple effect that violence and degradation have on people, families and communities. It is time that we acknowledge that like the adult children of alcoholics, the adult children of survivors of any violence also carry scars in their psyche. Ultimately, this story of the Schlessel family reminds us that we do not remain victims unless we choose to. Chaim Schlessel demonstrates profoundly that who we struggle to be and how we live is ultimately the place of victory.

Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe it’s my age. I don’t know and I’m not interested in speculating on the specifics of either. But I’ve been very reflective of late and I thought it was time to share.

I started dating my husband at the end of 1984. We were really young. We married in June of 1988 and have lived “happily ever after” since. But that’s a storybook cliche. The truth is so much more complicated – and so much better.

We were so new back then. Our relationship was like a bright, shiny penny laying in the sun. There was lots of flash – in passion, in anger, in joy. We made our way, confident in the permanence of what we had, creating a cocoon in which to protect the precious life we built. As we added to that life, in the form of two beautiful daughters, the flash turned fluid and the days flowed one in to the next, exhaustion becoming a constant companion.

Now we’re older. Our relationship is older too. Our youngest is nearly grown and the oldest has already moved on to her own adventure. We’re looking back with wonder at how quickly it all went but we’re also looking forward toward a new phase of our lives. The bright shiny penny may no longer glint in the sun and the hectic pace of young children has eased. But what’s left has the depth and richness of the finest champagne and chocolate and savoring each drop is a new delight.

When I hear people speak in horrific tones of the tragedy of only sleeping with one person for the rest of their lives – another cliche – I shake my head and chuckle. They just don’t get it. We know each other more intimately than I ever could have imagined, a pleasure in the heart as well as the bedroom. We don’t jockey for position the way we did when we were young. We are confident in the knowledge that there’s room enough for both of us, our needs, desires, hopes and dreams. We find as much joy in the success of the other as we ever found in our own. Maybe more. And we savor. Everything. Every taste of that miraculous chocolate. Every sip of that glorious champagne.

But all this makes me wonder. If it’s so much better now than I ever imagined it could be, what will I say in twenty-five more years?

I keep threatening that when my book is published I’m going to become a real diva … for five minutes. I figure that’s as long as I’d be able to stand myself. But with publication imminent I’ve been trying to figure out how to do the diva thing and I’m lost.

When the first galley came and it was fraught with errors I thought that would be the perfect time to be a diva. I could stomp and scream about how these problems were screwing up my ego extravaganza. In fact, I was just gearing up, upon finding the sixth problem, when a colleague smiled and said, “you know we’ll laugh about this someday.” I protested that it was not that day. She agreed and suggested I wait. That was it. The moment was gone. I was successfully de-diva’d.

I’ve been thinking about my diva plan ever since. I’m trying to find a way to make it work but I’m having a lot of trouble. I mean,what better opportunity would there have been than when things were so screwed up. But as I wait for the new galley to arrive I can’t seem to muster up the ego. Maybe when the error-free galley is in my hands and I can announce the book to the world … but I doubt it.

The truth is I rarely focus on me, me, me – though as much as I’ve worked lately my family might disagree. I tend to focus on others, on mentoring – I’m big on karma. I know how incredibly lucky I am. I get to stay home with my kids, work on my dream and have a husband who supports me and applauds every success. Ditto my daughters. I’ve had amazing mentors and incredible colleagues who’ve made my way easier. Doesn’t seem right to lord it over everyone. Seems a better use of my time to be there for others.

As I drum my nails on the desk, willing the new galley to arrive, I still mull over my desire to be a five minute diva. I guess when it gets here I’ll see what I can come up with. Maybe if I got a pedestal and a tiara …