Author's Note

In the Author's Note preceding the novel them, Joyce Carol Oates introduces her story as "a work of history in fictional form". In fact, the story is based on a series of letters she received while she was a professor at the University of Detroit. She says that the stories "pressed upon mine eerily, so that I began to dream about them instead of about myself, dreaming and redreaming their lives".

Indeed, there is a point in the novel in which I began to feel her pain. Maybe it is when Loretta woke up to find her newest conquest shot in the bed beside her by her own brother, crying when she realizes that this is real-life and not a practical joke. Maybe it is when I was introduced to the character of Jules for the first time and realized that he is the life of this story. Or maybe it is toward the end of "Children of Silence", when Maureen, good, sweet, intelligent Maureen, begins to dream of money and prostitutes herself so that she can get it, consequently leading her to two years in a state of comatose after being nearly beaten to death by her step- father. Or maybe it is when I began to see all the connections between each of these characters. They live their lives apart from one another, yet always seem attached in some shape or form, whether it be in a dream or at a dingy kitchen table drinking coffee with a long-lost brother. But thoughts of their lives began to enter their way into my head, my mind not too far from the latest drama.

The underlying theme to the entire story is the way in which families connect with one another in poverty and unfortunate events. Set mainly in Detroit around the time of the "race riots", the story presses upon thoughts on racism, independence, money, life and the past, present and future. All the central characters seem to live in a state of mind where neither the past nor the future are a reality. They get past things, even traumatizing, horrible events, with a swiftness unlike any other. They live for the now, the present and what it can do for them. They have no eyes for the consequences of their actions only thinking about things happening that very second. It "is the only kind of fiction that is real" said Oates, and really, there is no other way to describe it.