As the writer of a pseudonymous book, I gave up my own accumulated history as a novelist and became what I had been as a child: unnamed, unidentified, unacknowledged. Invisible. In a very real sense, what I hope for in… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
I hate to confess that I would love to have all of my children in Washington - and at the same time, they've been… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
Porter is my eldest child, and I tended to be fiercely protective when he was criticized. He actually was not a big complainer about… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
So much of memory comes from the beginning of our lives when we know the world for the first time with a kind of… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
My mother listened to everything I said, carefully - not that what I said was particularly interesting, but I was her daughter. — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
In the late 1990s, I wrote a book from the point of view of a young black woman who has barricaded herself in her… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
My mother was a talker, but there are still so many things I want to ask her. She died when I was forty. But… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
As the writer of a pseudonymous book, I gave up my own accumulated history as a novelist and became what I had been as… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
As a child, I was an observer, a listener for the stories of grown-ups. I led a quiet, solitary life with my mother, interrupted… — Susan Shreve Copy Share Image
