Published by: Dreambook Press
Release Date: 2020
Contributors: Tam May
Genre: 1950s, Historical Fiction, Post War, Short Stories, Women's Fiction
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Debuted at #1 in Amazon’s Historical Fiction Short Stories category!
Was the happy housewife of the 1950s really all that happy?
Women in post-war America should have been contented to live a Leave it to Beaver life. They had it all: generous husbands with great jobs, comfortable suburban homes with nice yards and a two-car garage, and plenty of house-cleaning and PTA meetings to fill their time.
It was the perfect recipe for happiness and fulfillment. Women’s magazines told them so. Advertisements told them so. Doctors told them so.
They were sold a bill of goods about post-war life. Some bought it. But some didn’t. This book is about those women who didn’t.
Five stories. Five women. Five journeys of self-discovery.
Purchase Lessons From My Mother’s Life today to walk in the shoes of five American women living in the 1950s, maybe women like your mother or grandmother. Maybe women like you.
This book also includes an Author’s Note and a bonus chapter from The Specter, the first book of the author’s Gilded Age family saga, the Waxwood Series.
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Front Cover Photo Credit:stokkete (Luciano de polo)/Depositphotos.com
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She rose, slipping her hands from his and placing them in the pockets of her dress so he wouldn’t see them shaking. She looked out the window where the sea had disappeared for curvy mountains. “Isn’t it wonderful how you only have to travel on a railroad track to reach a new place, a new world, even?”
“It’s not enough,” he said in an almost brutal voice. “I’ve been on many train tracks to many new places and new worlds. It’s like the living body and the living soul. One without the other kills them both.”
She took a breath. “You mean your body can be in a different place, but if your soul is the same, you’ll always be back where you started?”
“Something like that.”
Her legs felt as fragile as matches as she left the drawing room and made her way down the aisle and into the observation car. She saw that Bea and Carla were both dozing in chairs near the center of the car. She crept past the resting heads and soft snoring people to where the observation section gathered like a cup at the edge of the car. There was one oblong little window that stared right ahead into the vast space of mountainous ranges and gray-blue skies. She watched as the train moved forward, leaving behind her dead soul.