Book review: "Dora–Doreen"

My mother teases me that I don’t cry during movies—whether feel-good ones or purposefully sad ones. “You didn’t even cry during “Toy Story!” she’ll joke. For the record, readers, I did shed a few tears when Andy donated Woody, Buzz and the gang to that little girl. But she isn’t entirely wrong, I don’t cry with movies or books very often at all.

So it was a surprise to find myself with massive crocodile-tears rolling down my cheeks upon finishing “Dora–Doreen,” by Sophia Tova Stone. It was even more of a surprise considering I had had a hard time getting through the book and initially wasn’t even sure how much I was enjoying it.

When I first received the book from Gene Hayworth at Inkberry Books, I was excited because I have a soft spot for both World War II nonfiction and historical fiction. According to the back of the book, “Dora” was supposed to toe the line between these genres as it’s “based on a true story.”

But after slowly making my way through the first section: “Book One, Birth–Burden, 1905-1929,” I was initially a little frustrated that I couldn’t quite tell how much was fiction and how much was fact. The book starts with a prologue told from the point of view of Sophia, Dora’s (later known as Doreen) granddaughter, and describes the moment she heard of her grandmother’s passing. Book One officially begins with Dora’s birth in Oslo, Norway and describes, in great detail, her early years.

“There’s too much detail, I think,” I remarked to a friend. “I’m not sure I need the play-by-play of her early life.”

Admittedly, Book One is quite slow, but it’s important as it lays the groundwork for the rest of the book. The reader becomes intimately familiar with Dora’s insecurities, most of which have to do with her identities as orphan and Jew.

Books Two and Three, which cover her time during the war and its aftermath, including her emigration to America, move much faster. I was hooked. At this point, only sleep and other responsibilities held me back from reading. In fact, I binged Books Four and Five (her time establishing herself in America and her eventual passing) in a single morning.

By the last few pages, I was sobbing. I was sobbing for the life Dora thought she would have and that was taken away from her. I shed happy tears for the fulfillment she had in her later years: reuniting with what little remained of her Norwegian family and the chance to see her American grandchildren grow up. I cried seeing the parallels of her relationships with her grandchildren and those of both myself with my grandparents and even the grandmother-granddaughter relationship in Chris Chandler's book "Stay Sweet: Tales of Quirky Southern Love.”

I realized that even though I wanted to get to the action of the book—her escape from Nazi-controlled Norway was intense and incredibly emotional—what I loved most was how personal and vulnerable her story was. And how relatable it was too. It felt like when you ask your grandparent or family friend to recount stories from their lives: There’s a unique mix of nostalgia and the feeling of connecting and sharing in the moment together.

“Dora–Doreen” is a beautiful story that explores trauma, hardship, joy, resilience and so much more. It’s so clear that there’s so much love between Dora and her granddaughter Sophia in telling this story; and that love is shared with readers.