Before she retired from her day job as a business executive, Alma Cruz Miclat had been dallying with words. Her words, and not her husband Mario’s, nor her daughter Maningning’s, the other writers in the family, were first included in the anthology “The Writers’ Wives,” edited by Narita Gonzalez.
She was a diary keeper during their 15-year exile in China. But Mario, as she wrote it, “did not want me to record anecdotes in my small diary. He was afraid that if found by others, the diary would be misconstrued as notes of a spy, or a class enemy, or a counterrevolutionary.”
Alma’s essay in that 2000 collection stood out, especially when she waxed lyrical in describing “t…
Keep on reading: Late-blooming author discovers poet in her