Although I’d believed I was protecting my children (and myself) from the haters by using a pseudonym, I’d unqualifiedly silenced the voice I’d worked so hard to awaken. How could I be a role model to my children if, even though I wrote the stories of my life, I was too afraid to put my name on them?
I recently finished Jamie Quatro’s I Want to Show You More, a mildly terrifying short story collection that roams through the ruined lives of modern southern women. Frankly, I didn’t expect to like the book. I’m not enamored of literature that revolves around suburban dysfunction, peeling up the layers that conceal the dark undercurrents running beneath happy, shiny family lives.