KVETCH: ONE BITCH OF A LIFE - Kindle Non-Fiction

KVETCH: ONE BITCH OF A LIFE--A Memoir of Music & Survival
by Greta Beigel

In "Kvetch," concert pianist-turned-journalist Greta Beigel looks back, sometimes in horror, often with humor at (dysfunctional) Jewish family life lived under the umbrella of apartheid in South Africa, circa the '50s and '60s. While her memoir chronicles Orthodox Jewry's responses to events during that shameful era, it also explores the rituals, customs--and delicious foods associated with a rich cultural heritage. However, danger remains omnipresent. A child piano prodigy then teen concert performer Greta lives at the mercy of a superambitious matriarch, desperate for entree into Jewish Society. With violence never far--and following a failed marriage to a nice Jewish doctor--Greta faces a choice: Stay in Africa and surely die--or flee to California and create anew. She chooses life. The story moves to Los Angeles, where the author metamorphoses into a music journalist, soon covering the arts for the Los Angeles Times, and joy upon joy interviewing music luminaries such as Van Cliburn, Murray Perahia, Esa-Pekka Salonen, Christian Tetzlaff, to name a few. But always in the background a dark familial figure hovers...


From The Author:

I don't know how I survived that time, that country, that place, living under the rule of my mother who hated life and everyone in it, and whose main mission was to get me to share her desperate vision. Yet I remained a sweet, talented and happy girl. But it became clear that I was good for one thing only: To play the piano. From an early age I had to practice ten hours a day--and of course shine at school. After my every triumph, my mother would brag to her otherwise scornful siblings, and hold her head up a little higher within Joh'burg's judgmental Jewish community. Incredibly, looking back, I just loved Mommy. To me she was so pretty, and in so many ways so good, giving us good food and clothing and doctor and dental care. She'd often bring home little chocolates to give me energy as I sat at the keyboard--a prisoner, hour after hour, day after day, year and decade in and out. To combat the numbing aloneness, I'd slurp spaghetti with my nanny--remember, this was during the apartheid years-- or read Perry Mason mysteries in-between playing Mozart, Chopin, even Beethoven, sorry no Brahms. My biggest challenge in writing "Kvetch" remained how to depict emotional abuse--the physical is more easily described--in such a way that keeps the narrative moving, versus dumping a heavy burden on the reader. I had to choose what incidents to include, which aberrations to banish. The only way I could get my story down was to go on the road--check out the concluding chapter "Transformation"--and write episodes during many travels and in various climes and vistas. On a sojourn to the San Juan Isle of Orcas, near Seattle, I scribbled about my brother and how he changed towards me and the years of sexual molestation. While on tour of Iceland and at a seafront mall in Cape Town I recalled incidents with my mom. And during a weekend visit to Riga, the capital city of Latvia, delved into my Dad's mysterious past. When things got too painful, I'd move on. Now, I aspire to film my drama, and hear myself, mike in hand: "I accept this award on behalf of all the abused men, women, boys, girls-- and animals--who are suffering even as we speak. Please look at this statue and know that all things are possible, that you are not alone, it's not your fault and you can be safe and  loved and you, too, can take home the gold."