Amy Ephron

Amy Ephron’s captivating new book, “Loose Diamonds … and other things I’ve lost (and found) along the way” (William Morrow, $19.99), is a deliciously honest account of Ephron’s life experiences, wonderful vignettes that, to borrow her own words, are akin to “sparkling stones that I imagine come wrapped in a velvet cloth.” Each chapter is an unexpected gift, a glimpse into the life of a beloved author. We are enchanted by the Birdman, an exotic character with a magical aviary, show more who seems to have stepped out of a Harry Potter novel. His parrots “communicated in a language of their own.” And who knew that Ephron is a recovering psychic? The revelation is relayed with light-hearted humor, yet the reality of her psychic experiences is undeniable. She predicts “a burglary, an earthquake, and somehow psychically known that my old boyfriend’s father had passed away the day before….” Her stare has the power to make a key fly “straight up into the air out of the lock….”

Did Ephron really pay a visit to Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, “one of Charlie Mason’s followers,” at the Spahn Ranch “where the residual members of ‘The Family’ still lived”? She certainly did. If a chill doesn’t scurry up, or down, your spine at the recalled images of a naïve 19-year-old Ephron out in the middle of the hot, sand-blown desert in that spooky skeleton of a ranch in 1971 to cover Manson’s “circus-like trial,” then something is wrong with you!

Ephron is a master at evoking a strong sense of time and place. During the ’70s and ’80s “The climate was too loose, too experimental, too trusting … people were bringing strangers home off the streets….”

How times have changed!

Our own personal experiences resound in every familial event, rendered with disarming intimacy. There’s a second marriage to Alan, an attorney, with children of his own. Few among us “post-modern” families have not had to deal with messy divorces, a bitter ex-wife or ex-husband, the intricate politics of second marriages with two sets of children. And few of us have not been disillusioned by the shattering of our initial optimism to make everything work, hoping everything would turn out just fine if we invite “everyone to Thanksgiving dinner.” But, Ephron reminds us in one of her many wise asides, if you harbor a dream of turning such a family “into one happy, albeit dysfunctional family, you’re probably kidding yourself.”

There’s the mystery of Ephron’s house that seems to be struck every other December by disaster. Yes, it’s true. A tractor miraculously misses the house, an electrical fire is snuffed out in time, and “There’d been an epidemic of burglaries in LA.” Ephron’s jewelry is gone, which is bad enough until you learn that her computer is gone too! The attempt to find the thief, the robbed jewelry, and especially the invaluable computer, is worthy of a dramatic movie. And there’s the Middle Eastern passenger who states that the plane she is about to embark on will explode, and the matter of her indispensable Filofax, and her boy friend in San Francisco, and her love affair with Saks Fifth Avenue, and the problem of the “other writer” who threatens to …. well, you will find out!

Ah! How we love to be allowed a peep into the intimate life of a brilliant author, to become unabashed voyeurs. And Ephron, well aware of this inherent human need, accommodates with deep wisdom, marvelously sharp prose and her own beguiling brand of humor.

Dora Levy Mossanen, author of the historical novels “Harem” and “Courtesan,” is a frequent contributor of book reviews to The Jewish Journal. show less

Amy Ephron's wry and knowing collection of essays/vignettes about relationships, writing, family and her rather unusual childhood. I empathized completely with her feelings of loss and sadness losing her -albeit much more expensive- jewelry to a burglar. I nodded in recognition over her childhood ponderings on The Secret Garden, Upstairs/Downstairs and Mary Poppins. I was hooked by the essay starting "I have a theory that single women who buy champagne by the case rarely end well." However, show more more discomforting were her several essays "settling scores" with some rather easily recognizable people. Understandably, each essay can't resonate equally with everyone. Some might find those essays to be deliciously and wickedly catty. Overall, though, an enjoyable afternoon of light reading. show less

* I got this book for review from the publisher*

I found this book to be such a fun read. I really need to go back and read the previous books in this series. I would say this book could be read as a standalone but you could also read them in order. I really loved the holiday setting of this book and think it make a quick read during christmas. I thought the plot at points was a bit choppy and not as clear but I overall flew through this book. I really did like main characters of this read show more and def want to read their other adventures soon. I really liked how this book dealt with the present and the past and also loved the dymanics between the siblings. show less

I loved Loose Diamonds. It was too short. Or was it? For me, the essays, most only a few pages long, sparkle like loose diamonds. The topics are varied, but, instead of the virtual dump of material that so many collections seem to suffer from, every chapter in Loose Diamonds is a gem. There’s a maturity in each piece that allows this volume to be many things; charming, touching, humorous, ironic, and the list goes on. Found a great online interview also that gives some backstory. At about show more 160 pages in eighteen chapters, Loose Diamonds is a great weekend read.

The only bit that puzzled me was a blurb in the front jacket cover that says, in part, “And through it all is Ephron’s mother, whose perspectives on everything-from shoes to egg cups-pervade this book, and whose alcoholism was a constant challenge, forcing Ephron out on her own at an early age.” While those may be the “facts” of Ephron’s relationship with her mother, I would disagree that these issues “pervade” Loose Diamonds, much to Ephron’s credit. This is not at ALL a “woe-is-me, I survived alcoholic parents” offering, and I hate to think that Harper Collins is grabbing for that over-saturated market with the jacket statement. show less