A-Bomb Tests and the Effect on Children in the 1950s - an Editorial Review of "Then Came the Summer Snow"

Book Blurb:

Edith Higgenbothum is a 1950s housewife and mother in the “atomic town” of Richland, Washington. Edith’s husband, Herbert, is an engineer at Hanford, a secretive federal atomic weapons facility just north of town. Edith’s world, which is enshrouded in the myths, prejudices, and delusions of 1950s America, is thrown into turmoil and fear when her son Herbie powers up his father’s uranium prospecting Geiger counter. The device emits an ear-shattering barrage of clicks, revealing that the milk in a nearby glass is radioactive.

When Herbie is diagnosed with thyroid cancer caused by radioactive iodine in the milk, Edith allies with other mothers whose children are the victims of “summer snow” and other forms of radioactive fallout from plutonium production and A-bomb tests. Edith embarks on a quest pitting her against the Atomic Energy Commission and other power brokers who value atomic secrecy over the health of communities, all in the name of national security.

What’s at stake is no less than the lives of children.

In Trisha Pritikin’s crisp and sweeping novel, the Cold War comes home to live with a family in Richland, Washington. Not the Cold War of ideologies, but the one that included 2,000+ nuclear tests, and the production of hundreds of tons of plutonium; that contaminated our homes, food and communities; that actually took family members. Robert “Bo” Jacobs, Emeritus Professor of History at the Hiroshima Peace Institute and Hiroshima City University, author of Nuclear Bodies: The Global Hibakusha (Yale 2022).

“Then Came the Summer Snow is like an unexpected gift in its surprise and freshness. Absurdity informs its realism, its poignancy, and its humor. A troubling, hilarious, weird, and wonderful novel.”

Mark Spencer, author of An Untimely Frost

The eerie tick of a Geiger Counter provides the warning 1950s soundtrack for Trisha Pritikin’s novel about Hanford, a closely guarded atomic city in Washington state where plutonium for the nuclear bomb dropped on Nagasaki was made during World War II. Pritikin, born in the shadow of Hanford’s Cold War weapons plants whose father was a Hanford plant manager and whose infant brother lies buried in a baby grave plot in Richland, tells a compelling story of how an initially naïve couple, Edith and Herb Higgenbothum, dealt with secrecy, spies and classified documents while worrying about a growing thyroid cancer in the neck of their 10-year old son, and how a group of angry mothers organized by Edith finally hit back when Hanford officials’ reassurances about their children’s safety could no longer be trusted.

Karen Dorn Steele, Stanford University graduate and a former investigative reporter for The Spokesman-Review newspaper in Spokane, Washington who broke many of the stories about the Hanford “downwinders” unknowingly exposed to radiation from Hanford’s nuclear weapons plants

Book Buy Link: https://geni.us/jmTweHX

Author Bio:

Trisha was born and raised in Richland, the formerly government-owned atomic city immediately downwind and downriver of the Hanford nuclear weapons facility on the Columbia River in southeastern Washington State. Hanford produced the plutonium used in the Trinity Test, the world’s first test of an atomic weapon on July 16, 1945, and for Fat Man, the plutonium bomb that decimated Nagasaki on August 9, 1945.

Following the wartime Manhattan Project, Hanford ramped up production to meet the demands of the Cold War nuclear arms race. Beginning in late 1944, and for more than forty years thereafter, Hanford operators secretly released millions of curies of radiation into the air and the waters of the Columbia River, exposing communities downwind and downriver. Infants and children were especially vulnerable to the damaging effects of radiation exposure. Hanford’s airborne radiation spread into southern British Columbia and across eastern Washington, northern Oregon, Idaho and into Western Montana. Hanford’s waterborne radiation exposed communities downriver, reaching the mouth of the Columbia.

Trisha now suffers from Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, hypoparathyroidism, and other disabling health issues more likely than not caused by radiation exposure in utero and during childhood. Her only sibling died shortly after birth, part of a spike of neonatal deaths downwind of Hanford. Trisha’s father, a Hanford engineer, died of aggressive metastatic thyroid cancer, and her mother passed away from a virulent metastatic malignant melanoma. Trisha is the only surviving member of her immediate family.

Trisha is an attorney and former Occupational Therapist. She has worked for over thirty years for justice for those who, like her family, now struggle with, or who have already succumbed to, cancer and other serious illness and disability following exposure to ionizing radiation downwind of Manhattan Project and Cold War nuclear weapons production and testing sites, nuclear waste storage sites, and nuclear reactor accidents. She has served as an appointed citizen advocate on a number of federal advisory boards, and has been an invited speaker in Canada, Japan, Taiwan, Sweden, and Tahiti. She has given numerous presentations across the US on the subject of radiation exposure and its health consequences.

Trisha was a personal injury plaintiff in the recently concluded Hanford downwinder mass toxic tort consolidated litigation known as In re Hanford Nuclear Reservation Litigation. She is the author of a newly released book entitled The Hanford Plaintiffs: Voices from the Fight for Atomic Justice, introducing a collection of oral histories from former In re Hanford plaintiffs. It is the hope of the individuals whose narratives appear within the book that these stories can serve as real-life illustration of the devastation to health and life that is the result of production, testing and use of nuclear weapons.

Her latest book, a novel, Then Came the Summer Snow (Moonshine Cove Press) is an atomic age hero's journey set in RIchland, Washington in 1958.

Editorial Review:

Humming softly, Edith Higgenbothum darns a hole in her husband’s sock. Herbert (Herb) H. Higgenbothum Sr. is an engineer at Hanford, the massive, top-secret atomic weapons complex north of Richland, Washington. The housework never seems to end, but Edith asks herself, Isn’t this what I dreamed of as a little girl? Home, hearth, husband, children.

Ten-year-old Herbie Higgenbothum sits across from Edith at the dining room table, thumbing through one of his favorite comics, Atomic Mouse. “When’s Dad coming home? I don’t wanna be late!”

The novel creates a sense of discomfort and irony from the very beginning. An instant hook is created by contrasting innocent domesticity of the 1950s with invisible, deadly pollution. Even if the protagonists aren't yet aware of it, Pritikin's first pages captivate us by depicting an everyday world that is already damaged. One of the most powerful narrative devices in the book is that subtle discord. It’s not always pretty, and that’s because the world itself wasn’t always pretty.

Then Came the Summer Snow by Trisha T. Pritikin is an eerie, incisive analysis of Cold War America as it was experienced in schoolyards, kitchens, and children's bodies - not merely discussed in history books or government briefings. This book offers a potent, unpleasant reading experience that lasts long after the last page. It is based on historical fact, but is driven by incredibly personal storytelling.

This is essentially the tale of Edith Higgenbothum, a 1950s housewife in Richland, Washington, a "atomic town" constructed downwind of the Hanford nuclear plant. Edith starts the book strongly rooted in the norms of her time, believing that government secrecy is both safe and necessary, trusting authority, and respecting her husband's knowledge. When her young son Herbie unintentionally reveals that their regular milk supply is radioactive, that worldview breaks down. In addition to a physical emergency, Edith experiences a moral awakening that drives her to confront organizations that are far bigger and more powerful than she is.

The gripping nature of Pritikin's plot stems from its rejection of theatrics. The creeping realization that danger has already entered the house and the gentle ticking of a Geiger counter are the sources of the anxiety rather than explosions or alarms. As Herbie's thyroid cancer diagnosis pushes Edith to face the consequences of secrecy, patriotism, and blind faith, the plot develops with increasing dread. As Edith's understanding grows and she transforms from a submissive citizen to a determined activist, the narrative tension naturally increases. This story has a great deal of emotional weight since it is about moms, children, and betrayal rather than intellectual abstractions.

“I can get people from St. George to join,” says Jed. “There’s kids there like my nephew with leukemia, and kids with thyroid cancer.”

“Where’s St George?” Edith asks.

“A couple hours’ drive east of the test site,” responds Jed. “We could stop there on the way to Hanford.”

“Let’s do it. So long as I make it back for my son’s surgery, I’m good. I don’t care if Herb bellyaches.”

“Is Herb your husband?” Mary asks.

“I’m afraid so, and he’s acting like a baby,” replies Edith. “He just complains and whines while I’m over here! And--” Edith stops herself from mentioning her concerns about Franny. It’s too embarrassing. Someone might blame her for Herb’s infidelity!

The text flows confidently and clearly since the book is well edited and presented. Pritikin's prose is economical without being scant; every scene has a planned transition. The reader is not drawn out of the narrative by any distracting editorial errors or structural errors. The pacing is very skillfully done, striking a balance between intimate domestic moments and more general societal and political issues. The end effect is a seamless, assured, and controlled reading experience.

The work is anchored by the development of Edith Higgenbothum, a well-developed protagonist. Her early innocence never comes across as stupid; rather, it is a reflection of the social conditioning of the time. Her anxiety, rage, remorse, and resolution are depicted with psychological accuracy as the narrative develops. Her interactions with her son, her husband Herbert, and the other impacted women add levels of complexity and demonstrate how systemic violence shatters communities and families. Even supporting characters are given enough nuance to feel authentic, especially the ladies who band together to oppose Edith, each of whom brings a unique combination of bravery and pain.

Strong continuity is maintained throughout the political, medical, and personal themes of the book, which is important to pull it all together. Without any inconsistencies or loose ends, Pritikin meticulously documents the effects of radiation exposure, the changing reactions of governmental organizations, and Edith's changing interior environment. Immersion is maintained via the narrative's seamless integration of historical context rather than its introduction as exposition. The idea that this catastrophe is not coincidental but rather the outcome of conscious decisions made over time is strengthened by the logical progression of events.

A light wind ruffles Edith’s hair. She speaks into the megaphone. “I’m Edith Higgenbothum, and this is Betty Jones. We’re from eastern Washington State, near ‘Hanford,’ where they make the bombs they test here!” People look at one another in surprise, trying to figure out why they haven’t heard of the place.

“Our kids live in invisible clouds of radiation released from the place. They’re poisoning our children! It has to stop!” Applause erupts. Edith blushes in the dark. She puts down the megaphone and examines her safety goggles.

Then Came the Summer Snow's conclusion is incredibly fulfilling because it seems earned rather than because it provides a simple solution. No spoilers, but there are no false resolutions. The book affirms the strength of group effort and moral clarity while acknowledging grief, rage, and unfulfilled justice. The climax strikes a chord because it respects the story's emotional truth, regardless of whether it is perceived as tragic or hopeful. It feels appropriate and honest because it concludes the story arc without resolving the moral issues it poses.

The book’s viewpoint is what makes it unique. While scientists, politicians, or warriors are frequently used to tell the story of nuclear history, Pritikin focuses on mothers and children - the people who had to bear the repercussions without their knowledge or consent. The metaphor of "summer snow," or nuclear fallout masquerading as something harmless, is unsettling and creative. The novel's unique combination of realism and subtle absurdity, which captures the peculiar contrasts of Cold War life with restraint and dark humor, makes it stand out as well.

Pritikin's writing craft is assured and under control. Her writing is concise, expressive, and emotionally accurate without being overly dramatic. A medical procedure described just enough to be frightening, a disruption of a domestic routine, or a bureaucratic assurance that seems hollow are just a few examples of the subtle, telling things she excels at. Dialogue is both comprehensible to contemporary audiences and feels true to the time period. The effect is increased since the writing never teaches and instead relies on the story to do the work.

From innocence to awareness, from loneliness to group resistance, the plot arc is meticulously crafted. The awakening of a community compelled to face difficult realities is reflected in Edith's personal journey. The resolution is thoughtful without being passive, the climax is emotionally intense rather than dramatic, and the building action is steady and purposeful. The novel's main themes - accountability, bravery, and the price of silence - are furthered by the arc.

Then Came the Summer Snow is a compelling, eerie, and essential book. It serves as a reminder to readers that the vast tales of history are based on personal misery and that progress frequently starts with common people rejecting government lies. This book is worth reading for its compassion, clarity, and courageous storytelling in addition to its historical understanding.

5 stars from the Historical Fiction Company and the "Highly Recommended" award of excellence

AWARD:

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