1000,000 - 175,000
What's it all about?
As the population of post-WWII Los Angeles is exploding and overwhelming the pueblo infrastructure, Isabella finds herself caught between her powerless, loving mother, and brilliant father who is tortured by mental illness. As a child, she relies upon her maternal grandmother for encouragement and stability, is enthralled by the family lore and bolstered by the wisdom. But Grandy is ill.
It is a tumultuous time for Isabella’s family, Los Angeles, and for the Country. Shortly before the Watts riots in Los Angeles, Isabella graduates from an ethnically diverse school with peers who are headed for college, racial strife, or Vietnam. She is edgy, angry, and believes she can take on the world. But not everyone is what they appear to be and she makes early mistakes. Love proves as dangerous as it can be a comfort and always looming is the specter of her father’s schizophrenia. Isabella is no victim and at a moment of crisis, she stops escaping her life, turns to run right at it!
You will love the history! You will be captivated by the characters! You will be engrossed in Isabella’s struggles and delight in her accomplishments. Great descriptions that don’t crowd the story. Written lyrically, with much poignancy, “Digger’s Izy” is a moving read!
They had little time to wonder. The door burst open. Gunter stood with the claw hammer he’d been using raised in his hand, his eyes glaring and bugged out and exposing white all around the iris. His face was a menacing red; veins protruded at his temples and neck.
“The song you sing, who taught it to you?” he demanded of Isabella.
“No one, Daddy, I heard it on the TV. I’m sorry. I know better. I wasn’t thinking. I am so sorry.”
“Liar! You are lying. Did your mother teach it to you?”
“No, Daddy, honest, it was the TV. Please, I am so sorry.”
“Do you know why they want you to sing that song to me? It’s because your father is a villain and has a black heart, and they will never let me forget it.”
“Daddy, I don’t think you’re a villain. You don’t have a black heart. I just wasn’t thinking. Please! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
“Poisoned my own daughter against me. Clay! Your uncle is behind this! There is no end to his meddling or your treachery!” His face near purple, he backed up Isabella from the kitchen into the dining room, step by step. “Don’t look at me with those eyes!”
“Sorry, Daddy!” Isabella, now in the living room, continued to step back from her father.
“Gunter! What are you doing?” Missy approached and grabbed the arm with the raised hammer. He tossed her to the ground and continued stalking Isabella who, afraid to show her brown eyes, kept her head low, furtively sneaking glances when she could.
He swung the hammer, and Isabella quickly moved to her left. There, behind her, he spied the television. “Oh, Daddy!” The hammer went through the glass with explosive force, the blows that followed
shattered all that remained.
For some completely dark reason, Gunter turned and stomped through the debris and into the kitchen, where he placed his hand on the counter and smashed every finger of his left hand with the hammer. He winced with each strike but never faltered. Isabella screamed for him to stop and fell to her knees sobbing. When he had exhausted himself, he turned, rigid with many kinds of pain. Holding up his hideously damaged hand, he asked no one in particular, “You want me punished? I must be punished! Is this enough? Do you want more? What must I do? How shall I sate your cursed demons?”
In those moments, mother and daughter were helpless, transfixed with silent, breathless horror.