
          Almost Family.  Roy Hoffman. The Dial Press,
1983.
          By Harris, TrudierTrudier Harris
          Vol. 5, No. 2, 1983, pp. 21-23
          
          White mistresses and their black maids have intrigued many
generations of American writers. From the stereotypical portraits of
the nineteenth century, to Faulkner's more individualized but
basically stereotypical Dilsey, to Alice Childress' sassy Mildred,
both black and white American writers have depicted the relations of
the cultural and racial phenomena which inform white_women treating
black_women "like one of the family." Roy Hoffman's Almost
Family is yet another novel exploring that relationship.
          Set in Madoc, Alabama between 1946 and 1975, Almost
Family is the story of the parallel lives of Vivian Gold and
her maid, Nebraska Waters. It explores the relationship between the
two women as their children age and leave them, as well as the crises
involved in one being employed by the other. Although Vivian initially
scoffs at having a maid, and is frequently uncomfortable with the
situation, her Jewish liberalism will not allow her to deny completely
the trends of the community in which she lives. Whatever she may think
to the contrary, she does have a maid, and she is politely but firmly
diligent in maintaining the ultimate distance between the maid and
herself. The two women might be pregnant at the same time; they may
share the pain both have suffered earlier through miscarriages
(Nebraska has in addition had an abortion); and they may both be
devoted wives and concerned mothers. Finally, though, Vivian is
mistress and Nebraska is maid; Vivian is white and Nebraska is
black. The differences can never be completely overlooked.
          Vivian's position as a minority member in the larger white
community which will not allow Jews to join certain clubs may be
designed to show her potential to understand Nebraska's more extreme
minority position in relation to the white community; however, Vivian
and her husband Edward finally become members of that club and can
ignore their Jewishness (as Edward does in his support of the racist
candidacy of George_Wallace) in favor of acceptance. Nebraska, on the
other hand, cannot change her color; nor can she realistically work to
change her educational and economic status. The parallel lives are
only parallel to a point. Vivian has much more room for escape from
oppressing circumstances than does Nebraska.
          Hoffman's novel is not only a chronicle of the lives of these two
women and their families, it also records, through them, the changes
in the political and social atmosphere of Alabama and the country
between 1946 and 1975. There is a scene recounting the stand of George
Wallace at the entrance to the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa
while Vivian's second daughter, Rachel, is a student there. There is
the account of Nebraska's son Junior losing a leg in Vietnam. There is
a gripping description of the tension and violence which erupted in
Nebraska's neighborhood on the evening of Martin_Luther_King's death,
and there is irony in the fact that Edward and his son Benjamin have
just drive to Nebraska's house and it is she who is put in the
position of protecting them from angry blacks. There is also the
tension surrounding integration as Benjamin and Nebraska's daughter
Viv (named for Vivian), the result of the parallel pregnancies, grow
up in a world which has not allowed them to truly mix in public
settings.
          The novel is interesting and engaging, and some scenes, such as the
night of King's death and the cones-

quent death of Nebraska's dauther,
Wenda June, are particularly poignant. However, Almost
Family depends primarily upon episodic, sketchy development
rather than upon detailed portraiture of the two women. We see a lot
of the women, over many years, but what we see remains close to the
surface. There is little reflection. Ultimately, for Vivian, life goes
on and, as it does, one needs a maid. Nebraska reveals deep
resentments in blaming the Golds and other whites for the death of
Wenda June, but these too are passed over. Hoffman trades depth for
breadth in his novel, and he draws back from potentially explosive
situations. There is a big crisis in one year which is not completely
resolved, but the next chapter picks up two or three years in the
future and may make only passing reference to that great crisis which
has occupied us in the preceding chapter.
          Hoffman understands the issues surrounding his subject, and he
presents a substantial number of them, but he is ever polite in his
presentation, and he ever strives, sometimes incredibly so, for
peaceful, cooperative solutions. For example, Vivian's liberalism
leads her to invite Nebraska's family to her summer home at the lake
for an outing. When they all show up, tremendously uncomfortable with
each other, Vivian complains about her invitation having been taken so
literally (seven of the Waters family show up), and she does not have
the slightest idea as to what to do with them. Both families are
greatly relieved when the outing-turned-ordeal is over. "It's all too
confusing," Vivian says, "all too confusing.... You try to be a
mother, it's hard. You try to be an employer, it's hard. You try to be
a friend, it's hard. You try to be all three and it's impossible." Or
consider what happens when Wenda June is arrested for trying to
integrate the Woolsworth lunch counter in 1961. Instead of taking her
to jail, two understanding policemen bring her to the Gold home to
Nebraska and Vivian. As they discuss the matter with the policemen,
who have blamed Wenda June's action on her recent nervous breakdown,
one of Vivian's cousins emphasizes that the matter can be settled
because "this ain't the law . . . this is just family."
          But maids, as the title suggests, can never quite be family. Though
claims to the contrary are consistently made by both Vivian and
Nebraska, actions consistently undercut their claims. That is
especially vivid when Benjie, freshly in college, writes an essay
comparing Vivian and Nebraska as his two Jewish mothers. When he
enthusiastically sends copies of his essay to Vivian, and to his
sisters Sarah and Rachel, asking their advice about submitting it to
the school journal, Sarah sends him a special delivery letter
requesting that he not do so. Vivian in turn sends her a cryptic note:
"Dear Sarah, Thank you. Love, Mother." Vivian and Nebraska live
primarily on the surface of polite relations. They dare not face
overly long the distinctions that are theirs.
          These two basically good women are caught in lifestyles and
patterns of behavior which are larger than either of them. When they
try to deny those patterns, it means discomfort and tension for both
of them. Early in her employment at the Golds' home, Nebraska had been
tolerant if Vivian came home with her; then, following the
disturbances of the civil_rights days, there is a period of ten years
during which Vivian does not visit. Unexpectedly, one evening when
Vivian drives Nebraska home, she decides to go into the
apartment. Insisting that she is "just family," she rinses a glass and
gets herself a drink, then she "ooos" and "ahhhs" and gushes over the
apartment until Nebraska wants "to burst into tears." Vivian comments
on how well the numerous cast-aways she has given Nebraska look in her
apartment, including one of the "filling-station glasses" that she
"threw . . . out twenty-five years ago." In one brief ten-minute
swoop, Vivian has reduced Nebraska's home to a perverse replica of her
own: "Dear, being in your living room is like. being in a room right
out of my own house! Isn't that something?" It is
truly something that Vivian cannot see beyond the
surface of things, cannot see that it is partly because Nebraska must
work in the financially limiting job of maid that she is forced to
save all the Gold castaways. She cannot see that, in a matter of
minutes, she strips from Nebraska all pride in her home, and she
obviously influences the major decision Nebraska will make shortly.

          Hoffman does see, and he understands considerably more than his
characters do. One of the virtues of Almost Family is
that Hoffman brings a sensitivity to the representation of relations
across cultural and racial lines in the South. He stands back from all
of his characters and recognizes the limitations in them. I get the
feeling that he is also standing back from what he has written,
knowing that there is much more to tell.
          
            Trudier Harris, who teaches English and folklore at the
University of North_Carolina at Chapel_Hill, grew up in
Tuscaloosa. Her book, From Mammies to Militants: Domestics in
Black American Literature, was published by Temple University
Press in December, 1982.
          
        
