I don’t read a lot of memoirs, but the title Out of the Transylvania Night intrigued me, and Aura Imbarus’ writing pulled me in straight from the start. Her descriptions create vivid images of an impoverished snow-covered Romania, of childhood, family, the fear and fury of wanting to be just a little bit different, and the horror of knowing not wearing red might have saved a young girl’s life.

Snipers fire down from the rooftops as a world, never safe but surely at least a little predictable, explodes into dangerous uncertainty. Aura wonders if she’ll live to take those exams for university. Her parents wonder if the earth beneath their cellar will safely hide their treasures. And the parallels with fictional Transylvanian fears flow naturally onto the page.

As the family becomes cut off from news of the fighting outside, Aura turns to her grandmother for tales of history. The story gathers strength and depth, as does the rebellion. The pages fly by… I really don’t read a lot of memoirs, but this one has me hooked. Aura’s curiosity becomes mine. I want to know what’s happening, who’s doing the killing, who’s dying and why. The truth is, I already know what happened, at least in part, because I was safe at home watching my TV. But Aura was there, part of the power and ugliness and hope of revolution, and this book brings it to life.

The author has a deft hand with background information, feeding it naturally into the narrative. She has a very natural touch with emotion too, with fledgling love, political cynicism, sorrow, fear, and a curiously accurate dreaming that predicts the future. Death moves the reader almost to tears, and success to happy delight.

Aura eventually escaped Transylvania with her husband to America. Having immigrated here myself, though by a different route, I found the author’s depiction of her experience fascinating: the complications, sacrifice, loss; the hopes and dreams; the lack of a credit record; the trials of learning how to order a meal “to go.” And, of course, the temptations. How much of the Aura who made her own choices will remain, the reader wonders, when the world of America has filled her with its own urgent recommendations?

Aura becomes a teacher in Los Angeles, and more. But by the end of the memoir it’s the grown-up girl of the first pages who teaches such valuable lessons. The reader is left breathless and uplifted by a tale that’s in turn so strange and so very familiar—and so wise. I love this memoir, not just for its depiction of Transylvania, but also for its eye on American life and individual strength, and for its hopefulness. ( )