The following is an excerpt from a FB post I shared not too long ago.
For me, reading THAT LONELY SPELL (by Frances Park) was like that point in a phone conversation with an old friend when the two of you stop laughing and dishing the dirt long enough to get quiet and venture into deeper territory. I even found myself mentally renaming the book THOSE QUIET MOMENTS. ‘Cause really, I can see and hear so many of those essays as conversations, if not on the phone then, perhaps, late at night on a friend or relative’s deck or patio as the once hot grill is cooling and everyone else has gone inside and it’s just the two of you, swatting mosquitoes, listening to the cicadas, and sipping on a cold or chilled glass of something--wine or maybe iced tea. So you’re sitting there right, when out of nowhere, comes a story, a retelling of an incident or a revelation that ripples through the quiet of the moment, the still of the night--the type which returns to haunt you, sometimes years later and always when you least expect it.
But before I veer too deep into ramble mode, allow me to share a few specifics with regards to what I enjoyed about the book. For one, I enjoyed the fact that each essay opened with a photo. I find images and photos anchoring. They add texture and give me a better feel for the subject matter and/or the people being discussed. I liked the fact that most of the essays were short and to the point ‘cause let’s be honest, my attention span ain’t what it used to be. I appreciated how Parks interlaced her experiences as a Korean American and the daughter of immigrants throughout the work which is described on the back cover as “an elegy to Park’s father, who died when the author was in her early 20s.”
The essays I enjoyed the most included the following: “Kiss-Kiss-Kissuni” (a dive into Park’s relationship with her grandparent’s Korean housekeeper that ends with a heavy, unexpected twist); “That Lonely Spell” (a tender tribute to life’s highs and lows); “Finding West Virginia” (a look at unfulfilled longing) and “Hey Judy” (an abrupt end to a childhood friendship that leaves lingering questions).
There were a number of essays in the collection that moved me in some way, but probably none more than “Hey Judy.” Having spent a large portion of my youth moving from one air base to another due to my dad’s career in the Air Force, I’ve had several experiences like the one Parks describes in “Hey Judy.” Moments in time where you either bond or regularly interact with someone only to have them disappear and either leave you wondering whatever happened to them and/or being stunned by what you later learn of their fate. Over the course of my life, I’ve also known more than a few seemingly troubled souls, like Judy. When I shared the details of “Hey Judy” with my husband, his response was, “OMG! I can totally see that as a movie.” Now, for the record, Al has never responded in such an enthusiastic manner to any of my novels, short stories or essays so suffice to say, I was a bit taken aback, lol.
In all seriousness, I found THAT LONELY SPELL thoroughly engaging and I applaud Frances Park for owning the courage to share so many emotionally-moving chapters of her life.
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