My new novel, The Swanson Shuffle, is set in 1974, a tumultuous year for many of the characters — and the U.S. Think Watergate for starters.
First, a quick summary of the book for those just tuning in: Two years out of college, Bia Fernandes gets hired as a live-in staff member in a psychiatric halfway house and learns a lot more than she expects about the residents plus herself.
It was during the 1970s that Massachusetts, where this book takes place, was closing its state-run institutions for people with intellectual disabilities and mental illness. The state was criticized for the conditions in these facilities, prompting court rulings and a drive for community-based care aka deinstitutionalization.
Swanson House, where Bia lands a job, would qualify for community-based care as it was supposed to help patients from mental hospitals make the transition to being on their own again. Residents were expected to have jobs and take their meds. They interacted at meals, meetings, and various activities. Unfortunately, the staff members like Bia got zero training. Basically, they were expected to be nice role models.
News that happened in 1974 is woven into the book.
Among it was the kidnapping of newspaper heiress Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army, a story of interest to Bia. Later, Hearst became a fugitive wanted for serious crimes by the group.
Of course, Watergate was a big deal that year. The residents are devoted TV watchers and their main source of info is Walter Cronkite, who they fondly call Uncle Walter. Yes, there is a chapter when Uncle Walter speaks after Nixon resigns from the presidency on August 9, 1974. It coincides with a pivotal night for one of the staff members.
That winter, Massachusetts implemented gas rationing in response to the oil embargo by OPEC the previous year. Here’s how Bia explains it. (Paul is a fellow staff member.) “We and everybody else can only fill up on certain days depending on whether the last number of the license plate is odd or even. The house station wagon is odd, which is fitting. Paul claims the gas crisis is bona fide bullshit. The big oil companies are only doing this to scare people into thinking we’ll run out, so they can do whatever they want, like start a war in the Middle East.”
In one scene, the house station wagon runs out of gas after Bia picks up residents at the end of their shift at a local factory. She’s ticked off because a staff member, actually Paul, didn’t gas up after the morning run, but she needs to get everybody home. So, with Carole at the wheel, Bia and two residents, Lane and Kevin, push the car through a neighborhood to a gas station.
I peer over the car’s hood toward the garage. Two men are in the office playing cards. They don’t bother coming out, and then I see the cardboard sign in the window: NO GAS. They gotta be shitting me. How could they be outta gas?
“What’s the matter, Bia?”
“Nothing, Lane. Why don’t you go inside the car? I have to get somebody.”
I march toward the office. One man nods to the other when I knock on the glass. He waves me away.
“Outta gas,” the man mouths as he tilts a beer toward the sign.
I don’t believe him. I knock again until the same man comes to the door.
“Hey, girlie, can’t you read the sign? We’re outta gas.”
I gesture toward the station wagon. Carole still sits in the driver’s seat, but she’s rolled up the window.
“I did. I just need a couple of gallons.”
The man steps outside the office door. A jagged scar runs up the right side of his face. He smells like beer and cigarette smoke.
“Nah, we don’t have anything. Not a drop.” The scar twitches when he squeezes the corners of his mouth. “Sorry.”
“But we’re outta gas.”
He snorts. I bet he got that scar in a knife fight in a bar. Maybe it happened because he didn’t give somebody gas.
“I guess, hon, that makes the two of us.”
I don’t believe a damn word he’s saying.
Read how Bia figures a way out of this situation. Here’s the link to The Swanson Shuffle.
