Author Luis Alberto Urrea connects with his mother and WWII-era Clubmobile history in new novel
Luis Alberto Urrea attends the 69th National Book Awards Ceremony and Benefit Dinner at Cipriani Wall Street on Wednesday, Nov. 14, 2018, in New York. Photo by Brad Barket/Invision/AP
Award-winning Illinois author Luis Alberto Urrea’s latest novel was inspired by his mother’s experiences in World War II. She operated a Red Cross Clubmobile — providing coffee, donuts, and conversation to American soldiers near the front. Urrea was born in Tijuana, raised in California, and currently resides in Naperville, Illinois. He’s a novelist, poet, essayist, and professor of writing at the University of Illinois Chicago. He was a Pulitzer Prize finalist for The Devil’s Highway, his nonfiction account of 26 men attempting to cross the border into the U-S through the Arizona desert.
Urrea will be in Urbana, Wednesday, November 8 at 7:00 p.m. for an event at the Alice Campbell Alumni Center. Sponsored by the U of I Alumni Association and the Chez Veterans Center, there will be a talk about the Red Cross Clubmobile service and artifacts from Urrea’s mother and Champaign resident Jill Pitts Knappenberger’s time in WWII. Click here for to register for the event.
GUEST:
Luis Alberto Urrea
Author • “Good Night, Irene”
novelist, poet, essayist, and professor of writing at the University of Illinois Chicago
Excerpt (Luis Alberto Urrea, Good Night, Irene, p. 374):
"As she healed, Irene tried to return to her old life. But she had no witty repartee, no desire to wear lipstick, no friendship to offer anyone. She didn't trust a world that she had seen to be so cruel. The one safe place was here, on the land of her ancestors. The stone walls of the farm had sheltered generations of Woodward women. Now it was her turn.
When Mother grew exasperated and demanded that Irene return to Staten Island and get a job, Irene suggested that she needed a bit more time to get over the war.
Mother laughed in her face. "That is ridiculous," she said. "You weren't even a soldier. You were making cookies. What could you possibly have to get over?”
Irene, knowing it was hopeless for her mother to ever understand, didn't bother to correct her.”