“I’ve known perfectly well, for a long time, that I have an irrational heart. But knowing it doesn’t stop me in the least.”~Colette

Tags

aging parents, career, chicken paprikash, contemporary romance, culture, dating, elder care, Elizabeth Taylor, Fellini, free book, Hungarian culture, Hungary, Jackie Onassis, Judith Krantz, New York, personal growth, romance, Scruples, self-discovery, United Nations, women's issues, Yale

“When my father said black is not a color unless it’s worn by a blonde, he wasn’t just talking about the color black or women who were blonde. He was talking about the animus inside the packaging—the spirit inside the body, the woman inside the dress.”—Rozsa Gaston, Black is Not a Color

When Ava Fodor returns to New York from Paris, she leaves behind her budding romance with Pierre and turns her attention to another man: Zsolt Fodor, her father. He’s a penniless Hungarian poet transplanted to New York in the wake of the failed 1956 Hungarian uprising. Raised by her New England grandparents, Ava barely knows him. Dramatic, effusive, emotional, he’s everything her grandmother warned her against. Yet his crazy conversation fascinates her. His chicken paprikash isn’t bad either.

Pierre’s pull draws Ava back to France, to the medieval walled city of Carcassonne. There, his tender care of his ailing mother awakens Ava to something lacking in herself. Unless she finds it, she can’t give him her heart.

When her father has a heart attack, Ava is thrust into a caregiver role, looking after a man who never looked after her. She’s terrible at it. So was her father, so he forgives her. But can she forgive him? Until she learns to love the man she has every reason to abandon in his hour of need, she can’t move on. Only her father can show her the way. But will she let him? And if she can, will it be too late for Pierre and her?

Black is Not a Color is Part II of The Ava Series: Ava Fodor’s journey of self discovery, begun in Paris Adieu.

Praise for Black is Not a Color

“Imagine if Judith Krantz had been a history scholar at Yale when she wrote Scruples. If this idea appeals, you are likely to be engaged and fascinated by Black Is Not A Color. The book is at once witty, smart and touching. It will make you want to devour chicken paprikash and then go shopping at a chic Manhattan boutique with your best girlfriend. A sensitive delineation of family dynamics and some wonderful insight into geopolitical geography.”

—Jane Stern, author of The New York Times bestselling Elvis World, Roadfood, and many other books on food and popular culture

“Rozsa Gaston takes us on another delicious adventure through France and
beyond. Sexy, thrilling, and deeply moving, Black is Not a Color has everything
you’d want in a novel, plus lots of spice, specifically paprika.”

— Jamie Cat Callan, author of French Women Don’t Sleep Alone, Bonjour Happiness! and Ooh La La!

“Readers will be delighted, intrigued and entertained by Black Is Not a Color. This enjoyable continuation of Ava’s worldly tale, begun in Paris Adieu, is full of vibrant characters with great chemistry. Gaston writes this story with intelligence, emotion, creativity and heart.”

—Laurie Weiner, Fairfield Public Library, Fairfield, CT

“Heartwarming, romantic and sexy, Black is Not a Color touches upon friendship, romantic relationships and the strength of familial bonds. This moving read for sophisticated readers evokes both a desire for European travel and a renewed appreciation for my hometown of New York City.”

— Meredith Schorr, author of Just Friends with Benefits and Blogger Girl

“An exotic, romantic adventure with a complex soul that connects us all. And the Hungarian thread that runs through it is just delicious. Big enough and bold enough for the big screen.”

—Atessa Helm, film producer, script and story consultant

“You cannot be transformed when you’re afraid.” – Junot Díaz

Tags

art, artist, Dominican culture, junot Diaz, liberal arts education, literary fiction, masculinity, Pulitzer prize, Rutgers, writing, Yale

“You cannot be transformed when you’re afraid.”
-Junot Díaz at Yale, Nov. 12, 2013
by Rozsa Gaston for Wild River Review

Author Junot Díaz electrified a packed room of over two hundred students at Yale on Nov. 12, 2013 with fighting words: “If you’re writing real art, no one wants your shit anyway….The point of an artist is to give people what they don’t want. The day you start giving people what they want, you become an entertainer.”
The Pulitzer prize-winning author of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, This is How You Lose Her, and Drown alternately provoked and caressed his audience. Above all, Díaz engaged them, careful to take questions from different sides of the room, as well as from students spilled out into the foyer outside The Saint Thomas More Chapel at Yale University. He alternated between male and female questioners, exhibiting a sensitivity that contrasted strikingly with his frequently incendiary remarks, which did not fail to thrill. “Imagine your writing doesn’t work—99.99 per cent of us won’t be artists, because this culture hates art.”

The Dominican-American author taunted his audience of mostly undergraduates, telling them that studying creative writing or majoring in English was a waste of time if they wished to write. “If you’re an artist, what you need is material. I was a history major at Rutgers. That’s where I got Oscar Wao from,” he said, referring to his 2008 Pulitzer prize-winning book.
He challenged the roomful of Yale undergraduates, telling them “From the questions being asked, all I hear is fear. It rolls off of you in waves.” He referred to the fear of graduating and not being able to find a job, even though “You are in the top one per cent in the world.”

Deriding contemporary American views on higher education as a means of “accreditation” in order to increase a student’s employability, he described such narrow thinking as particularly harmful to artists. “A liberal arts education is not meant to be vocational. It’s meant to be transformative. You cannot be transformed when you’re afraid,” he told his rapt audience, exhorting them to write without expectation of commercial success. “Writing helps you open a deliberative space. That’s why everyone should have a writing practice.”

Asked by a student whether art should be political, he replied “All art is political. Status quo art is political.” Specifically asked about literature as a political art form, he précised, “Literature is too complicated to hew to a political platform. The subtexts will subvert what you think your message is.”

Following his forty-five minute address, Díaz patiently signed copies of his books handed to him by a long line of undergrads. He looked each one in the eye, and addressed them personally, his voice low, caressing. A few he spoke to in Spanish, sometimes with endearments such as “mi amor,” and “mi lindo.” The contrast of his warm, personable manner was even more startling following his provocative presentation. The common denominator in both was Díaz’s impassioned and engaged nature.

In his opening remarks, Díaz mentioned briefly that he wants to write a book about contemporary masculinity. The brand of masculinity Junot Díaz displayed in his Nov. 12 address at Yale combined firebrand provocation with silky smooth personal attention to and esteem of his audience.

Whatever Díaz comes up with next, I have no doubt will capture the world’s attention, leaving us startled, breathless, and gasping for more.