Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- BOOK ONE
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- BOOK TWO
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- BOOK THREE
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- BOOK FOUR
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- BOOK FIVE
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Book Ends
- A Conversation with Naomi Krupitsky
- Discussion Guide
- The Family Playlist
- Rosa Colicchio’s Minestrone Soup
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
When I studied classics and mythology, I remember learning that the Greeks were special because their gods were flawed—selfish and greedy, violent, motivated by insecurity. The stories passed down about Greek gods enabled people to explore moral boundaries, to see their gods acting out the worst human impulses. That really stuck with me. In my own life, fiction has always been a way I could test my boundaries, complicate my instincts, and explore outside my own perspective. And as much as possible, I hope The Family lives in the gray areas between what we normally see as black-and-white dichotomies.
For example, I want the reader to love Joey. I also want the reader to see him being violent and selfish and making the wrong decisions. Later in the book, I want the reader to empathize with Saul, even as he betrays people he loves—people the reader loves, too. I want the reader to see Sofia being cruel, to see Antonia being cowardly, and still to love them, wholeheartedly, absolutely. I want the reader to see Sofia and Antonia trying to escape the restrictions of the world they were born into, even as each of them, in different ways, realizes that her strength comes from her roots.
When I read, I am more invested in complex characters who are capable of violence than I am in characters who stick to one side of the line between right and wrong. And from a creative standpoint, the blurry center where good and evil, old and new, love and violence come together, and are sustained and in some ways enabled by one another, is the most interesting place to explore.
Antonia and Sofia are opposite in almost every way. As you were writing, did you relate more to Antonia’s or Sofia’s character? Where did you pull inspiration for their unique personalities?
I think Antonia and Sofia’s contrasting personalities embody a duality I feel in myself. For example, I have Sofia’s temper but Antonia’s self-awareness. This has gotten me into trouble at times, but it’s also kept me safe and strong. I can be timid, but I can also be bold. I think in many ways I used their personalities to explore the wide range of self I feel, and I wanted to explore how each of their traits can be a gift or a curse, depending on the situation. As I wrote, I used each of them as a foil for the other: if this is how Antonia navigates falling in love, or anger, or massive change, how does Sofia navigate it, and how can those two personalities be in conversation with each other? But I see myself in both of them, and I feel really connected to both of them.
What research did you do to create such a vivid, panoramic portrait of Brooklyn’s coming-of-age in the early twentieth century?