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A review by another Amy Rosenthal (no relation)

By Amy Ilyse Rosenthal

I never liked my name much when I was growing up. It was too common, too clunky, too long. It felt clumsy off my tongue. It wasn't glamorous sounding like my friend Paige Axelrod's. Now that's a name. She lived just down the street from me - so close. But whenever I heard it I envisioned her
jetting off to some exotic land.

My name wasn't lyrical like my sister's: Nina Michelle. Or cute - like my friend Kate's. Or cool -like my friend Lisa Kroll's (the coolest girl at Robert Seamen Elementary). And Alix Posner - my best friend - she had a boys name! the ultimate in cool.

My first name alone didn't feel special because there were so many Amys in my class. I would have used my middle name - but when I was young I used to think that one was just weird. This name thing tormented me for some time. I was convinced I could never be fabulous or famous or funky or beautiful - or - anything at all - with a name like that.

At some point - I don't actually remember when - I got over it. I got used to it. I grew into it. It felt like mine. I figured I'd keep it.

Twenty and some odd years after acceptance I get this email:

> From: amy rosenthal
> Date: Thu, 22 May 2003 13:09:20 -0700 (PDT)
> To: air@angrymonkey.com
> Subject: email for amy rosenthal
>
I had to pause before opening it. Was I sleep mailing things to myself? Had I wigged completely? um.

nah.

probably just SPAM. Trash-it.

But a split-second before I hit delete, my hand twitched the mouse over
to
open and so I read:

> i'm trying to reach Amy Rosenthal...
>
> would this be the right place?
>
> thank you for your time,
> Amy Rosenthal (no relation)
> Chicago

Intriguing. Funny. But I wasn't quite sure I wanted to be the person this person was looking for. Curiosity eventually got the better of me (it always does) - so I mailed back. That's why you are reading my words here: Because a blithe spirit with the same name - googled me. googled us. (ya gotta love google).

The similarities don't end with the name. There's the way we sign it, and the fact that Fracas was my first perfume too... and the way we stirred our dad's coffee... and scorching our mouths on Chicken Pot Pie... and... a list long enough to make it feel a bit twilight zone-ish - or all kinds of synchronistically new-agey - depending which coast you are on.

In truth our lives are very different - but our correspondences and this book - have been a wonderful break from modern day-to-day solipsism. There is a kind of simple joy in the delightfully articulated experiences and observations found herein - and in the basic connections they forge.

To the author (and everyone else): Yes, the moments I have spent with this have mattered to me. Humored me. Reminded me. Made me feel uneasy, sad, mad, jealous, adolescent, silly, happy, special. This has given me fun, comfort and smiles.

I love my name.

Signed,

Another Amy Rosenthal