Published: August 14th, 2018
For three middle-aged women in the suburbs of Cleveland, the issues seemed compelling but relatively conventional: sending a child off to college, dealing with a marriage gone stale, feeling "invisible." But changes were coming . . . and not the predictable ones. Because Margie, Katherine, and Abra are feeling a new kind of power inside of them – literally. Of all the things they thought they might have to contend with as they got older, not one of them considered they'd be exploding a few gender roles by becoming superheroes.
At once a delightful and surprising adventure and a thoughtful examination of a woman's changing role through life's passages, THE SUPER LADIES is larger-than-life fiction at its very best.
PRAISE FOR SUSAN PETRONE'S THROW LIKE A WOMAN:
"Throw Like a Woman is that rare baseball novel, both a paean to the game and a deeper exploration of character. Susan Petrone has a fan's heart and a scout's eye. Read it now. Don't wait for the movie." - Stewart O'Nan, co-author of Faithful and A Face in the Crowd
"For baseball fans who yearn for a female Jackie Robinson, reading Susan Petrone's fun and absorbing novel Throw Like a Woman becomes a kind of prayer. 'Please, Lord! Give talent a chance. Let this dream come true!'" - Mary Doria Russell, author of The Sparrow
"Someday there will be a woman who plays Major League Baseball. And when it happens, I suspect it will be an awful lot like Susan Petrone's fun Throw Like a Woman. Susan knows baseball and so the novel - and her hero Brenda Haversham - crackles with authenticity. You can hear the pop of the ball hitting the catcher's mitt." - Joe Posnanski, author of The Soul of Baseball, NBC Sports National Columnist
"Petrone's storytelling is first-rate, and she weaves a credible baseball tale with well-defined characters throughout." - The Wave
GUEST POST
“IN MY HEAD I STILL FEEL 29”
Whenever I would talk with my late mother about growing older, she would always say “In my head, I still feel 29.” She was nearly 40 when she had me, the last of her six children. She always said that 29 had been a good age, one where she still felt young but was old enough to be an independent woman living on her own. In the late 1950s, that was still relatively unusual. (I realized later that age 29 was also the last year my mom was single and childless, but let’s not read too much into that.)
Twenty-nine was a good age for me too. Unlike some of my friends, I didn’t freak out when I turned 30. Thirty was fine. For some reason, 35 was a different story. Turning 35 felt like I was crossing over a bridge that was crumbling behind me. A long-time friend who is two weeks younger than I offered a different perspective, saying she was looking forward to it. Her view was that “When you’re 30, nobody cares what you think. 35 gives you some credibility.” I realized she was right when I took one of my nieces, then 14, to see the movie Mean Girls. The place was teeming with teenagers, a handful of parents, and one cool aunt. A group of girls was standing around near the end of the ticket line. “Excuse me, are you guys in line?” I asked. I got a “No, ma’am,” and a couple of “Sorry’s” and they quickly moved out of the way. During the movie, the boys in the front of us kept talking. I leaned forward and asked “Could you guys please keep it down?” And they shut up for the rest of the movie. That was the first time I realized it fully hit home that I was no longer looked at as another kid. No mater how I felt inside, I was now a Ma’am. A grownup. So yeah, with 35 came credibility.
That was a while ago. I just turned 50. Apparently that brings with it a bit more credibility. People do look at me a little differently. As though perhaps I have experience and know what I’m talking about. I’m 50, but in my head I still feel 29. Or 37. Or 42, or 12. Or all of the above.
In my latest novel, The Super Ladies, my three protagonists are best friends who are all moving into their late 40s and confronting some of the changes that go along with growing not old, but older—feeling invisible to the rest of the world, realizing that you’ve lost a step as an athlete. It’s not a spoiler to say that they develop superpowers when one of their children’s science experiments explodes. Their superpowers directly relate to the changes they’re going through. On one level, it’s an exploration of being and becoming. We spend our adolescence and much of our twenties becoming something—a teacher, an engineer, a writer, a lawyer, a doctor, a parent. Then there’s years, sometimes decades of being whatever it is we were trying to become. Sometimes that state of being is exciting. Sometimes it’s tedious.
I don’t have problems with the advice to “just be.” But I don’t want my state of being to be confined to just one thing. I don’t think we can or should ever be just one thing—to paraphrase Walt Whitman: “We are large. We contain multitudes.” I take that mean that we contain multiple states of being, multiple ways of being. If you’re lucky, you get to continue becoming along the way—becoming a better amateur musician maybe. Or becoming certified in Scuba diving, becoming a master cupcake decorator or even becoming a superhero. Maybe we stop feeling young when we stop becoming, when we stop growing. In that case, here’s to feeling young.
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About the author:
Susan Petrone lives with one husband, one child, and two dogs in Cleveland, Ohio. Her superpower has yet to be uncovered.
This was such a fun read! I am hoping that a sequel is in the works.
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