Who She Was: My Search for My Mother's Life

Sam's insight to the era of the Bronx shows the underlying warmth and respect he has for his family. I could not put the book down; reading well into the night; hours passing quickly. We can all relate, Jewish or non- Jew. They were tough times, not necessarily blessed with opportunities; and especially so for a bright woman with what could have been an even brighter future had she been born in more contemporary times. Thank you for sharing your Mom's life with us. You did it in a beautiful and literary way. I gained insight into Fannie's family; folks I have known, loved, respected and whose friendship I have cherished for almost 50 years. Thank you, Sam. Great job.

My mother grew up in the Bronx not all that far (in time and place) from Freedman's mother Eleanor, so I found this book both nostalgic and deeply touching. Even if I didn't know first-hand about shopping at Alexander's, going to Loew's Paradise, and commuting to City College, I would find this book engrossing. By tracing his mother's teenage and early adult years and the shifting relationships with family and friends, he shows how her decisions and attitudes influenced who she became--and why she kept her earlier life a mystery from those closest to her. Insightful, with a powerful yet very personal ending. Highly recommended.

I could not put this book down....it's fantastic! The author, whose mother died when he was a college student, pieces together her pre-motherhood life to create a wonderful story of a complex young woman...a woman who, to paraphrase his words, peaked at a young age and spent the rest of her life trying to capture that success. I appreciate the emotional and literary efforts Mr Freedman put into this book...it was a joy to read and gave me lots of food for thought. Highly recommend!

The first page grabbed my attention, and the following pages would not let me go. Samuel Freedman's reportorial handiwork, digging out and writing his own mother's story, yields a deeply involving tale. I liked the rich slice of American history that he shows us, tracking his mother's upbringing in the Jewish neighborhoods of the Bronx. But even more, I liked watching the development of a young American woman, struggling against an overbearing mother, exploring the world of exciting young men, suffering through a difficult first marriage and finally becoming a mother of three herself, only to be tragically stricken with cancer and early death. Thousands of other American women lived similar lives, but few have their story brought to life as beautifully as this one. I was touched by how Freedman recalls with shame his own behavior as a typically headstrong teenager, asserting his independence from his mother, and how, after her death, he failed to visit her grave. This book is a loving effort to get to know and commemorate his mother as she really was, by employing his considerable skills as a journalist, historian and writer. I found it quite moving.

When we reach the age when our first parent died we have to come to a kind of realization that they didn't have any more than we're already had. Somewhere about then many of us start to reflect a bit on the life that that parent lived. In my case it was a father who lived very poor in rural Arkansas. His father ... well this is not my family's story. It was later that I realized what he had gone through working in the hot Louisiana sun to give me a couple of college degrees. I wish that I had the way with words Mr. Freedman has to put down the story of his mother's life. Indeed I'd like to have even researched my father's life as extensively as he has his mothers. It was certainly a different life in the East Bronx than it was in the Arkansas Ozarks. I don't think better, or worse, just different. Mr. Freedman's grandmother had a major and not necessarily beneficial impact on his mother's life. My father's mother had died when he was six (childbirth). Mr. Freedman has taken this story beyond just the story of one lady, it's a tale of the life of new immigrants living the Depression Era American Jewish experience. It's a good tribute to Eleanor Freeman. It's also a good tribute to Samuel Freedman. He, like I, think of the casual cruelty we caused our parents. We'd like to go back and fix a few things, say a few things. But we can't. Instead, we smile and think of the things our kids have done, and we don't mind. Mr. Freedman, your mother is, I think, looking down on you with pride, as I think my father is with me -- even though we know we don't deserve it.