How I Became C.A. Haddad

I had finished writing “The Moroccan” while my husband was on sabbatical in Israel.  It was in longhand and, when coming home, I typed it up, struggling to read my handwriting.  I didn’t send it off right away to publishers, as was my intention, because first, there was the shock of the Yom Kippur war and the complete stress of that awful situation, the day after day of waiting for a miracle.  That was followed by my third pregnancy, my answer to the attack on Israel.

In 1974 I sent a query letter to Joan Kahn at Harper’s, as I knew of her reputation.  Almost by return mail, she said she’d take a look at it.  I realized the book was not something a woman might write, so I sent it to her under the name of Joseph Haddad.  It was quickly accepted for publication.  (I often wonder now, if she knew I was a woman, would she have been so quick to accept?)

So now I was stuck.  I was still posing as Joseph.  How could I let her know I was a woman?  Thankfully, I didn’t have to.  I told her I was visiting the New York area with my family, and I gave her the number of the house in Nanuet where my parents lived.  While I was out at the playground with my children, Joan Kahn called and asked to speak to Joseph.  My mother, bless her, broke the news to her that Joseph was actually her daughter.

I do not know Joan’s immediate reaction, but she did say that the book could no way be published under a woman’s name.  We decided on the initials C. A. Haddad.  Had I been a little bit brighter, I would have done this in the first place.  But I am what I am.  Thus began the split between the fierce and funny C. A. Haddad and the more civilized Carolyn of the family saga variety.

Which persona do I like more?  Well, I knew “A Mother’s Secret” was the best thing I had ever written.  But, let’s face it, C. A. Haddad is a lot more fun to be around.  Check out “The Wanker” and see if you agree.  Or try “A Mother’s Secret,” but keep the tissues close by.