By Lisa Guidarini
I’d like to say I’m in the process of cleaning out my bookshelves, that that’s the reason I’m pulling out random books to read, before I release them into the world. That’s not strictly so.
For six months I’ve had four bags of books in my car I’ve been meaning to donate to the library, books I’ve either read and don’t intend to re-read or those that aren’t appealing to me anymore because I’ve lost interest in the subject. It was my intention to donate these sorts of books to the library, to find new owners who’ll read them.
Instead, I keep transferring them from the trunk to the seats in the car. My children have become used to tossing them into the back seat to make room for them to sit in the car, which I understand is its primary function. It’s gotten so bad my youngest refers to it as the “mobile library.” He recently said, “Pretty soon we’ll have to keep quiet so our “patrons” will be able to read without diversion.”
Every time I turn a corner a book flies off a seat. When a door opens at least one book falls out. I nearly left a parking lot with a 100 year old book by Balzac sitting on the pavement, falling underneath the car unnoticed. I screeched to a halt and grabbed it, unable to leave it behind where who knows what may have happened to it.
I do sometimes donate books, but sometimes I occasionally buy a few back from the library sales. That way the library is making money from the book, plus I get to keep “the preciousssss….”
All that to introduce this, my new ER column, “From My Bookshelf.” Each month I’ll profile a different book, reviewing it in a brief way, letting you know if there’s an interesting back story behind how I obtained it.
This month’s book is by Korean author Young-Ha Kim, titled I Have the Right to Destroy Myself. As the title suggests, it’s loads of fun. The theme is suicide, one man’s belief that those who are miserable, or who have lost faith in life (especially in art), have every right to commit suicide. He’s willing to be there for the person, staying by their side, providing moral support while their lives slip away. Sometimes, he tells us, he has sex with the person before they end their lives, though usually not.
The book’s not all grim. In a way it’s a parody of books with suicidal themes. Mostly it’s a treatise on the importance of art, how it transcends any one life, and the question of how important enduring art is compared to the lives of the creators.
Kim necessarily chooses artistic types as his characters. All of them are involved in the artistic process. C and K, brothers who are never named both fall in love with a woman named Judith. Her art involves covering her naked body in paint, slinging her hair on the canvas and rolling around on it. It’s performance art, meant to be seen by an audience, and she’s well known for it, having developed a following.
C wants desperately to videotape Judith in action as she creates. After some argument she relents. When the resulting videotape is presented at an art gallery Judith becomes inconsolable that her art has been devalued by capturing it on film. She feels it’s stolen a part of her soul; her reaction is dramatic and immediate.
To tell the rest would ruin the tale. It’s grim, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Asian writing specifically for its dark quality. I’m not one who believes life is easy or particularly fun, nor do I generally enjoy reading cozy works that don’t force you to think outside the façade we call “normal life.” Kim’s book forces deep thinking. It investigates moral issues as well as the meaning of art and how it affects the artist. It’s a short though very deep work, one that demands to be read slowly. Though it has qualities of surrealism, it’s not as much so as the work of another Asian writer I admire very much, Haruki Murakami. It’s a complex little book at 119 pages.
I bought this book from Barnes & Noble, mostly based on the intriguing title, but also because it was a staff favorite. Not a particularly interesting backstory, but then again I buy a lot of my books based on book lust.
Would I recommend the book? Wholeheartedly, though be somewhat cautious if you’re feeling particularly down. It’s somewhat redemptive, somewhat tongue-in-cheek but not all depressives may agree with me. What’s ironic is I read it immediately after a book with the opposite theme, one recommended to me by my therapist, Paulo Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die. Weird how karma works sometimes..
I’m pleased to be a part of the ER team. I’ll be back next month with another column based on another book pulled off my shelf. Stay well, and keep reading.
Showing posts with label Lisa G. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa G. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Interview: A.J. Jacobs
Interviewed by Lisa Guidarini of Bluestalking Reader
In the beginning was the encyclopedia. Yea, verily. I looketh upon it with mine own eyes. And I saw that it was good. There was evening and morning whilst I readeth it. Then again, there's evening and morning pretty much every day (unless you live really, really far north). But I digresseth.
A score of months later (give or take, who can count), came the Bible. It was fruitful. It multiplied. It cracketh me up. It restoreth my sense of humor. I laugheth, as it led me to the path of righteousness. Or not.
Yea, verily, I did then contact A.J., and he doth reply. I asketh, and he answereth. And here it is, now, for thine own eyes. Enjoyeth.
BSR: It's a little trite to ask you where on earth you come up with your book ideas, but where on earth do you come up with your book ideas? What inspires (or possesses) you to embark on these incredibly ambitious projects?
AJJ: Well, I love the idea of quests. But I'm not much of an outdoor person, so I don't see myself climbing K2 or doing the Iditarod race. So my quests tend to be intellectual or spiritual. Things I can do without getting frostbite. I also like taking things to the extreme. So I figure, if I'm interested in religion, why not go all the way - live the entire Bible - and see what works? And I love first-person writing. I love to read it and I love to write it. If it's done well, it can be like you're right there with the author on the journey.
BSR: Out of all the trials and tribulations from your biblical year, what was the toughest thing you endured? And, by the way, did you get to keep the slave?
AJJ: I'd say there were two parts that were the toughest. There was the attempt to avoid the little sins we all commit every day - the lying, the coveting, the gossiping. I live in New York and work for the media. So that was pretty much 75 percent of my day. The second tough part was trying to obey laws that will get you into a little trouble if you follow them in 21st century America. Like stoning adulterers. Or owning a slave. (For slavery, the closest thing I could find was a summer intern. He was great. But he had to go back to college.
BSR: With three little ones at home and what I presume is a full-time writing job, how do you find time to write your books, much less do the extensive research?
AJJ: I am having a tough time.
My sons haven't embraced the distinction between work hours and play hours. Right now, I'm working about 16 hours a day, and getting about two hours of actual work done, because my kids come into my office every three minutes to have an important discussion about bananas or Dora the Explorer. So I don't think I've mastered the balance yet.
My only trick is that I try not to waste a single second. I don't let my mind wander too often. If I'm going around the corner to get a bunch of grapes (as I had to do today), I try to have something specific to think about while I'm walking. A little project. Like, what headline an article should have. Or a list of people I'd like to profile for Esquire.
BSR: Have you ever given thought to writing fiction, or actually, have you ever written fiction?
AJJ: I've dabbled a couple of times. But I just don't think I'm built for it. Even in my reading choices I tend toward nonfiction. When I was young, I remember reading Tom Wolfe talking about how nonfiction - when it's written in a vibrant way - is more compelling than fiction. So that really influenced me. Then he decides to write nothing but fiction. So I don't know where that leaves me.
BSR: What are you reading lately? Anything you'd recommend?
AJJ: I wish my friends would stop writing good books. I keep feeling compelled to read them. My friend Jennifer Traig wrote a book about hypochondria called Well Enough Alone, which will be out later this year. Also, though he's not a friend, I'm in the middle of Alan Weisman's The World Without Us. I loved the description of Manhattan before people came in, plowed the hills down, and put up a Duane Read drugstore on every block.
BSR: What on earth (or heaven) is next for you after a year spent following the Bible?
AJJ: Well, my wife says I owe her after all I put her through with the encyclopedia and Bible projects. She's pressuring me to to The Year of Giving My Wife Foot Massages. But I'm not sure how mass the appeal would be. But I do want to do one more of the immersion projects.
BSR: Finally, for someone whose writing ambition is to follow the same sort of path you have, what advice would you give?
AJJ: I'm worried my advice will be stuff they've heard before. I don't have any huge original secrets like "use more umlauts." To me, the most important thing, I think, is just to generate ideas nonstop. Be an idea machine. Because rarely - especially when you're starting out - will someone assign you a book or a freelance article. You have to pitch relentlessly. And second, over-report. Especially if you're describing a scene. Write down every detail, even the ones that seem trivial - the sound of American Gladiators playing in the background, for instance. You never know what you'll end up using .
Blesseth thee, A.J. Jacobs. I hath enjoyed this very much. Verily, verily much, I say unto thee.
P.S.: This before/after will never stop crackething (?) me up.
In the beginning was the encyclopedia. Yea, verily. I looketh upon it with mine own eyes. And I saw that it was good. There was evening and morning whilst I readeth it. Then again, there's evening and morning pretty much every day (unless you live really, really far north). But I digresseth.A score of months later (give or take, who can count), came the Bible. It was fruitful. It multiplied. It cracketh me up. It restoreth my sense of humor. I laugheth, as it led me to the path of righteousness. Or not.
Yea, verily, I did then contact A.J., and he doth reply. I asketh, and he answereth. And here it is, now, for thine own eyes. Enjoyeth.
BSR: It's a little trite to ask you where on earth you come up with your book ideas, but where on earth do you come up with your book ideas? What inspires (or possesses) you to embark on these incredibly ambitious projects?
AJJ: Well, I love the idea of quests. But I'm not much of an outdoor person, so I don't see myself climbing K2 or doing the Iditarod race. So my quests tend to be intellectual or spiritual. Things I can do without getting frostbite. I also like taking things to the extreme. So I figure, if I'm interested in religion, why not go all the way - live the entire Bible - and see what works? And I love first-person writing. I love to read it and I love to write it. If it's done well, it can be like you're right there with the author on the journey.
BSR: Out of all the trials and tribulations from your biblical year, what was the toughest thing you endured? And, by the way, did you get to keep the slave?
AJJ: I'd say there were two parts that were the toughest. There was the attempt to avoid the little sins we all commit every day - the lying, the coveting, the gossiping. I live in New York and work for the media. So that was pretty much 75 percent of my day. The second tough part was trying to obey laws that will get you into a little trouble if you follow them in 21st century America. Like stoning adulterers. Or owning a slave. (For slavery, the closest thing I could find was a summer intern. He was great. But he had to go back to college.
BSR: With three little ones at home and what I presume is a full-time writing job, how do you find time to write your books, much less do the extensive research?
AJJ: I am having a tough time.
My sons haven't embraced the distinction between work hours and play hours. Right now, I'm working about 16 hours a day, and getting about two hours of actual work done, because my kids come into my office every three minutes to have an important discussion about bananas or Dora the Explorer. So I don't think I've mastered the balance yet.
My only trick is that I try not to waste a single second. I don't let my mind wander too often. If I'm going around the corner to get a bunch of grapes (as I had to do today), I try to have something specific to think about while I'm walking. A little project. Like, what headline an article should have. Or a list of people I'd like to profile for Esquire.
BSR: Have you ever given thought to writing fiction, or actually, have you ever written fiction?
AJJ: I've dabbled a couple of times. But I just don't think I'm built for it. Even in my reading choices I tend toward nonfiction. When I was young, I remember reading Tom Wolfe talking about how nonfiction - when it's written in a vibrant way - is more compelling than fiction. So that really influenced me. Then he decides to write nothing but fiction. So I don't know where that leaves me.
BSR: What are you reading lately? Anything you'd recommend?
AJJ: I wish my friends would stop writing good books. I keep feeling compelled to read them. My friend Jennifer Traig wrote a book about hypochondria called Well Enough Alone, which will be out later this year. Also, though he's not a friend, I'm in the middle of Alan Weisman's The World Without Us. I loved the description of Manhattan before people came in, plowed the hills down, and put up a Duane Read drugstore on every block.
BSR: What on earth (or heaven) is next for you after a year spent following the Bible?
AJJ: Well, my wife says I owe her after all I put her through with the encyclopedia and Bible projects. She's pressuring me to to The Year of Giving My Wife Foot Massages. But I'm not sure how mass the appeal would be. But I do want to do one more of the immersion projects.
BSR: Finally, for someone whose writing ambition is to follow the same sort of path you have, what advice would you give?
AJJ: I'm worried my advice will be stuff they've heard before. I don't have any huge original secrets like "use more umlauts." To me, the most important thing, I think, is just to generate ideas nonstop. Be an idea machine. Because rarely - especially when you're starting out - will someone assign you a book or a freelance article. You have to pitch relentlessly. And second, over-report. Especially if you're describing a scene. Write down every detail, even the ones that seem trivial - the sound of American Gladiators playing in the background, for instance. You never know what you'll end up using .
Blesseth thee, A.J. Jacobs. I hath enjoyed this very much. Verily, verily much, I say unto thee.
P.S.: This before/after will never stop crackething (?) me up.
Personal Growth: Tackling the Self-Help Universe
By Lisa Guidarini
Whatever the immediate cause, over the past few years I’ve been what you may call a nutbag about issues involving personal growth, branching out, and trying new things. That’s weird for me because I’ve never been like that before. And when I say never, I mean NEVER. I’ve always been a little scared, a little hesitant, and a lot reserved. The definition of the word “homebody” had a picture of me next to it, which was kind of embarrassing since they used my DMV photo.
Part of this new exploration came as a result of having suffered losses and another part from world-weariness, but the biggest part came from the joy that is long term depression. What started to help me turn all that around was a little thing I’ll call “chemical courage,” or “better living through chemistry,” when I finally sought the aid of anti-depressants to help me get back to the “me” lurking in the depths somewhere. I knew she was in there. When it was quiet I could hear her scratching around, shredding papers for her nest. Plus, at night she kept escaping and eating all my cookies.
Getting professional help for my depression issues allowed me to think clearly for the first time in, well, forever. And that gave me a little inkling as to what I might have been missing all my life. The takeaway lesson was “Life’s short; you better do more shit.” I finally began to realize I’d better get my ass in gear. I knew I’d probably have tomorrow, since I was feeling okay and all, but I also knew you can’t count on next week because that doesn’t even exist yet, save in the extended forecast. And we all know how unreliable the extended forecast is. Don’t get me started.
Over the past few months my yearning for self-improvement and personal growth morphed into an insatiable need for reading self help books. Why’s that? Well, it’s all tied up with the other life stuff, but basically I had some issues to work through before I could really tackle that living issue full-force. Issues are the baggage we all carry around on our backs. For me, I anthropomorphize that concept into a monkey that’s always clinging to my back. Sometimes he’s hanging from my neck, occasionally he grabs me around the waist, but he’s always there, sister. He’s always hanging around, kind of like that obnoxious co-worker who just never seems to get the hint.
A big part of my new plan for growth included really digging into my ideas on spirituality, digging out the part of me that’s jaded and getting down to what I truly can believe in, because that’s taken a real knocking, too. I wasn’t sure I could believe in anything that wasn’t concrete anymore. All my belief in a “beyond,” or a meaning to any of this life stuff, had all but evaporated. At the same time, I regularly do a lot of thinking about the Universe, how huge it is, how volatile, and how mysterious. If you think about that long enough it can make your brain explode, especially if you get on the track of “but what MADE the stuff that formed into the Universe in the first place?” I feel my head starting to throb already. I don’t know about you.
Unlike a lot of people, I’m comfortable with knowing I don’t know everything. I’m fine with unanswerable questions, and the whole Universe thing is definitely a big, unanswered question. But what I’m a lot more anxious to know is how to make the most of myself, how to tap the resource that is my mind and wring a lot more creativity out of it. The self help books help me with that. Some of them, I’ll admit, are cheesy and Dr. Phil-y, but there’s also a lot of wisdom to be found there, too. I highlight what I think I can actually use and chuck the rest of it aside.
At the same time I’m reading the books I’m also doing a lot of writing in my journal. I find that a necessary outlet for both my creativity and my sanity. It also helps me remember the key points in my reading, those sentences I highlighted when they struck me as useful. And I’ve already referred back to the writing I did when I started the whole project, wondering that I’m the same person who started out sounding so, well, messed up. It’s good to see there’s been progress. That’s an encouraging sign.
Personal growth is an ongoing issue. If you ever find yourself thinking you’re done with it, that you’ve reached your limit, that’s a good sign you need to get your butt out of the house and do something. Because without continued growth there really is no life. That’s what life is by definition.
The trick is to keep checking in with yourself to make sure you’re on the track you want to be on, and that you realize though it’ll never be perfect you can guide it how you’d like it to go. Just remember to take care of yourself during the process, nurture your soul or your higher self or whatever you choose to call it. Because this is the only you you’re ever going to have, and probably the only life. So it may as well be the very best you can make it. If it means getting help then get help. Life is all too short, and so very precious. Find the you in you, and get out there and live it.
Whatever the immediate cause, over the past few years I’ve been what you may call a nutbag about issues involving personal growth, branching out, and trying new things. That’s weird for me because I’ve never been like that before. And when I say never, I mean NEVER. I’ve always been a little scared, a little hesitant, and a lot reserved. The definition of the word “homebody” had a picture of me next to it, which was kind of embarrassing since they used my DMV photo.Part of this new exploration came as a result of having suffered losses and another part from world-weariness, but the biggest part came from the joy that is long term depression. What started to help me turn all that around was a little thing I’ll call “chemical courage,” or “better living through chemistry,” when I finally sought the aid of anti-depressants to help me get back to the “me” lurking in the depths somewhere. I knew she was in there. When it was quiet I could hear her scratching around, shredding papers for her nest. Plus, at night she kept escaping and eating all my cookies.
Getting professional help for my depression issues allowed me to think clearly for the first time in, well, forever. And that gave me a little inkling as to what I might have been missing all my life. The takeaway lesson was “Life’s short; you better do more shit.” I finally began to realize I’d better get my ass in gear. I knew I’d probably have tomorrow, since I was feeling okay and all, but I also knew you can’t count on next week because that doesn’t even exist yet, save in the extended forecast. And we all know how unreliable the extended forecast is. Don’t get me started.
Over the past few months my yearning for self-improvement and personal growth morphed into an insatiable need for reading self help books. Why’s that? Well, it’s all tied up with the other life stuff, but basically I had some issues to work through before I could really tackle that living issue full-force. Issues are the baggage we all carry around on our backs. For me, I anthropomorphize that concept into a monkey that’s always clinging to my back. Sometimes he’s hanging from my neck, occasionally he grabs me around the waist, but he’s always there, sister. He’s always hanging around, kind of like that obnoxious co-worker who just never seems to get the hint.
A big part of my new plan for growth included really digging into my ideas on spirituality, digging out the part of me that’s jaded and getting down to what I truly can believe in, because that’s taken a real knocking, too. I wasn’t sure I could believe in anything that wasn’t concrete anymore. All my belief in a “beyond,” or a meaning to any of this life stuff, had all but evaporated. At the same time, I regularly do a lot of thinking about the Universe, how huge it is, how volatile, and how mysterious. If you think about that long enough it can make your brain explode, especially if you get on the track of “but what MADE the stuff that formed into the Universe in the first place?” I feel my head starting to throb already. I don’t know about you.
Unlike a lot of people, I’m comfortable with knowing I don’t know everything. I’m fine with unanswerable questions, and the whole Universe thing is definitely a big, unanswered question. But what I’m a lot more anxious to know is how to make the most of myself, how to tap the resource that is my mind and wring a lot more creativity out of it. The self help books help me with that. Some of them, I’ll admit, are cheesy and Dr. Phil-y, but there’s also a lot of wisdom to be found there, too. I highlight what I think I can actually use and chuck the rest of it aside.
At the same time I’m reading the books I’m also doing a lot of writing in my journal. I find that a necessary outlet for both my creativity and my sanity. It also helps me remember the key points in my reading, those sentences I highlighted when they struck me as useful. And I’ve already referred back to the writing I did when I started the whole project, wondering that I’m the same person who started out sounding so, well, messed up. It’s good to see there’s been progress. That’s an encouraging sign.
Personal growth is an ongoing issue. If you ever find yourself thinking you’re done with it, that you’ve reached your limit, that’s a good sign you need to get your butt out of the house and do something. Because without continued growth there really is no life. That’s what life is by definition.
The trick is to keep checking in with yourself to make sure you’re on the track you want to be on, and that you realize though it’ll never be perfect you can guide it how you’d like it to go. Just remember to take care of yourself during the process, nurture your soul or your higher self or whatever you choose to call it. Because this is the only you you’re ever going to have, and probably the only life. So it may as well be the very best you can make it. If it means getting help then get help. Life is all too short, and so very precious. Find the you in you, and get out there and live it.
Friday, February 1, 2008
"Titlepage"
This month's "Book News" cross-posted from Lisa Guidarini's Bluestalking Reader
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Angela Hayes, Goldberg McDuffie Communications
212-446-5104, ahayes@goldbergmcduffie.com
"Titlepage" Will Debut March 3
New Online Literary Conversation Program
Long-Time New Yorker Editor, Author,
and Recent Random House Editor-in-Chief Daniel Menaker Will Host
NEW YORK, NY (January 30, 2008) - Eight months after leaving Random House, Daniel Menaker is returning to the book world, hosting an Internet show that will feature interviews with authors of all kinds, the first of its type on the web.
The show, "Titlepage," for which Menaker will serve as host and editorial producer, will feature a group of writers discussing their new books in a roundtable format. The debut season will include six episodes, the first of which will go live on www.titlepage.tv on Monday, March 3, 2008.
"'Titlepage' is the perfect way to share my enthusiasm for books and their authors--in an instantly and permanently accessible format--with as many readers as possible," said Menaker. "I've always sought out literary conversations, and I think we can make them surprising and entertaining for anyone who might want to stop by. Editors, particularly editors who are also writers, like nothing more than to share their love of books with others --although the occasional royalty check is also pretty enjoyable."
"Titlepage" is the result of a collaboration between Menaker and Brown Hats Productions, headed by Odile Isralson and Lina Matta. It draws its inspiration from the classic French program "Apostrophes", PBS's "Charlie Rose," and "Dinner for Five," the actor's roundtable discussion seen on IFC.
Isralson and Matta feel that bringing the program to viewers on the net made more sense, and was clearly more cutting-edge, than producing it for network or cable television. "The line between screens has become blurred," Matta said. "Computer, TV, iPhone, iPod-they are all the same. People catch their shows whenever and wherever they can. The Internet allows viewers to manage their own entertainment and cultural resources in ways that traditional TV just can't match--such as interactive participation, watching supplementary content, selecting content according to one's own very specific interests, all of which add up to advantages for sponsors and advertisers."
"In other words," Menaker added, "They can choose to fast forward from Steve Martin to Martin Amis."
Isralson made the point that "one shouldn't have to have to live in New York City and pay $150 to some elite festival in order to be part of literary culture. From now on, if we have anything to do with it, you can be having dinner in Gillette, Wyoming, and enjoy a great hour of conversation about writing with your dessert and coffee. And thanks to Daniel, 'Titlepage' will be provocative, smart, and fun. I think we'll demolish a great many rules about what a book program should look and sound like."
"Titlepage" will be produced as though for television broadcast, making its quality far superior to most online video programs. Each new episode can be watched on the program's website-in its entirety or in parts-and can be downloaded and viewed on an MP3 player, or transferred to a home theater system for viewing.
To take advantage of the instant responsiveness of the net, the Titlepage.tv website will also offer links to online vendors so that viewers can purchase the books being discussed, and other books by these writers, with a click of their mouse. Visitors can also interact with the show's hosts and guests through comments, discussion forums, and e-mail.
"Authors with new books of all kinds will appear on the program in the coming months," Isralson said. "We are aiming for the greatest possible diversity and variety. We are looking to have poets, novelists, journalists, Americans, foreigners -- we will talk to anybody, about anything to do with books, as long as it strikes us as worth talking about, timely, and deserving of a wide audience's attention."
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Angela Hayes, Goldberg McDuffie Communications
212-446-5104, ahayes@goldbergmcduffie.com
"Titlepage" Will Debut March 3
New Online Literary Conversation Program
Long-Time New Yorker Editor, Author,
and Recent Random House Editor-in-Chief Daniel Menaker Will Host
NEW YORK, NY (January 30, 2008) - Eight months after leaving Random House, Daniel Menaker is returning to the book world, hosting an Internet show that will feature interviews with authors of all kinds, the first of its type on the web.
The show, "Titlepage," for which Menaker will serve as host and editorial producer, will feature a group of writers discussing their new books in a roundtable format. The debut season will include six episodes, the first of which will go live on www.titlepage.tv on Monday, March 3, 2008.
"'Titlepage' is the perfect way to share my enthusiasm for books and their authors--in an instantly and permanently accessible format--with as many readers as possible," said Menaker. "I've always sought out literary conversations, and I think we can make them surprising and entertaining for anyone who might want to stop by. Editors, particularly editors who are also writers, like nothing more than to share their love of books with others --although the occasional royalty check is also pretty enjoyable."
"Titlepage" is the result of a collaboration between Menaker and Brown Hats Productions, headed by Odile Isralson and Lina Matta. It draws its inspiration from the classic French program "Apostrophes", PBS's "Charlie Rose," and "Dinner for Five," the actor's roundtable discussion seen on IFC.
Isralson and Matta feel that bringing the program to viewers on the net made more sense, and was clearly more cutting-edge, than producing it for network or cable television. "The line between screens has become blurred," Matta said. "Computer, TV, iPhone, iPod-they are all the same. People catch their shows whenever and wherever they can. The Internet allows viewers to manage their own entertainment and cultural resources in ways that traditional TV just can't match--such as interactive participation, watching supplementary content, selecting content according to one's own very specific interests, all of which add up to advantages for sponsors and advertisers."
"In other words," Menaker added, "They can choose to fast forward from Steve Martin to Martin Amis."
Isralson made the point that "one shouldn't have to have to live in New York City and pay $150 to some elite festival in order to be part of literary culture. From now on, if we have anything to do with it, you can be having dinner in Gillette, Wyoming, and enjoy a great hour of conversation about writing with your dessert and coffee. And thanks to Daniel, 'Titlepage' will be provocative, smart, and fun. I think we'll demolish a great many rules about what a book program should look and sound like."
"Titlepage" will be produced as though for television broadcast, making its quality far superior to most online video programs. Each new episode can be watched on the program's website-in its entirety or in parts-and can be downloaded and viewed on an MP3 player, or transferred to a home theater system for viewing.
To take advantage of the instant responsiveness of the net, the Titlepage.tv website will also offer links to online vendors so that viewers can purchase the books being discussed, and other books by these writers, with a click of their mouse. Visitors can also interact with the show's hosts and guests through comments, discussion forums, and e-mail.
"Authors with new books of all kinds will appear on the program in the coming months," Isralson said. "We are aiming for the greatest possible diversity and variety. We are looking to have poets, novelists, journalists, Americans, foreigners -- we will talk to anybody, about anything to do with books, as long as it strikes us as worth talking about, timely, and deserving of a wide audience's attention."
Monday, January 7, 2008
Embracing the Possibilities
By Lisa Guidarini
Tempting as it is to take this month’s theme and expound on the ubiquitous New Year’s resolution, I’m inclined to avoid going that route. That’s partly because you’ll get more than enough of that everywhere else you look, and also partly because I’ve already written about five columns on that topic already and I’m frankly ready to snatch myself bald when I think about writing about it again. So yeah, enough of that old chestnut. It’s been roasted on the open fire, and good riddance to it.
Instead, I’ll take it in a direction I’ve already gone, but one which I think can’t be written about enough. That is, myself. No, not myself as in “Look at me, world! Aren’t I wonderful!,” but as in this is what I’ve been through, and maybe it’ll help you, too. It’s kind of like an infomercial, but you don’t have to worry about the volume. If it becomes too obnoxious, just look away.
I’m all about helping others in the small ways that I’m able. I’m a compassionate person, politically I’m socially liberal, and as far as heart goes mine has a permanent big WELCOME! mat lying over it. I’m also, in a combination that seems potentially dangerous, unafraid to tell people things about myself, to share experiences, admit failings and basically pour myself out there for public consumption.
But caution! I am not fat free. Be sure to check with your physician before beginning this program. While it is advisable to keep your hands inside during the ride, please also keep in mind I am ticklish.
Standard disclaimers aside, there’s one thing I’d like to recommend to you when it comes to the theme of “possibilities.” Take a hard look at yourself, at your life, and at how happy you are. Whether you’re currently happy with your lot or not, and not to seem too morbid or anything, but remember this: life is finite. It’s also not exactly certain we’ll ever have more than one go around. Some think that’s the case, but frankly I don’t know anyone who’s been there and back again. Definitive evidence is lacking. So to my mind, it’s better to play it safe and just assume this is it.
And if this is it, seriously consider what that means. We’re all hurling around here on this planet together, each going through our own individual one virtual time around. Every single one of us cherishes something. Everyone has a special talent, or a special need that deserves attention. Some are more fortunate than others. A whole lot of us are lucky just to survive from day to day. That may be the most important point of all. Life isn’t necessarily distributed equally. To my way of thinking that means to those whom much is given much should, in turn, be expected. Another way of putting that is use your talents. Do good work. Imagine the world as it would be if we all pooled our collective goodness and threw that out into the world. Imagine who’d be there to catch it, and what it would mean to them.
This isn’t a lecture, and it definitely isn’t a life plan. It’s just one, lone writer reminding you we’ll all be dead soon. Ack, no! That’s not what I meant. I just mean, be mindful. Life is short, it’s inherently immune to either being fair or unfair, and each one of us has this one shot at greatness. And I don’t mean greatness as in becoming a historical figure your grandchildren will study in textbooks, either. Be great where you are. Find your bliss and go with it.
Go forth and realize the possibilities. The world will thank you for it.
*Original photography used with permission by Lisa Guidarini.
Tempting as it is to take this month’s theme and expound on the ubiquitous New Year’s resolution, I’m inclined to avoid going that route. That’s partly because you’ll get more than enough of that everywhere else you look, and also partly because I’ve already written about five columns on that topic already and I’m frankly ready to snatch myself bald when I think about writing about it again. So yeah, enough of that old chestnut. It’s been roasted on the open fire, and good riddance to it.
Instead, I’ll take it in a direction I’ve already gone, but one which I think can’t be written about enough. That is, myself. No, not myself as in “Look at me, world! Aren’t I wonderful!,” but as in this is what I’ve been through, and maybe it’ll help you, too. It’s kind of like an infomercial, but you don’t have to worry about the volume. If it becomes too obnoxious, just look away.
I’m all about helping others in the small ways that I’m able. I’m a compassionate person, politically I’m socially liberal, and as far as heart goes mine has a permanent big WELCOME! mat lying over it. I’m also, in a combination that seems potentially dangerous, unafraid to tell people things about myself, to share experiences, admit failings and basically pour myself out there for public consumption.
But caution! I am not fat free. Be sure to check with your physician before beginning this program. While it is advisable to keep your hands inside during the ride, please also keep in mind I am ticklish.
Standard disclaimers aside, there’s one thing I’d like to recommend to you when it comes to the theme of “possibilities.” Take a hard look at yourself, at your life, and at how happy you are. Whether you’re currently happy with your lot or not, and not to seem too morbid or anything, but remember this: life is finite. It’s also not exactly certain we’ll ever have more than one go around. Some think that’s the case, but frankly I don’t know anyone who’s been there and back again. Definitive evidence is lacking. So to my mind, it’s better to play it safe and just assume this is it.
And if this is it, seriously consider what that means. We’re all hurling around here on this planet together, each going through our own individual one virtual time around. Every single one of us cherishes something. Everyone has a special talent, or a special need that deserves attention. Some are more fortunate than others. A whole lot of us are lucky just to survive from day to day. That may be the most important point of all. Life isn’t necessarily distributed equally. To my way of thinking that means to those whom much is given much should, in turn, be expected. Another way of putting that is use your talents. Do good work. Imagine the world as it would be if we all pooled our collective goodness and threw that out into the world. Imagine who’d be there to catch it, and what it would mean to them.
This isn’t a lecture, and it definitely isn’t a life plan. It’s just one, lone writer reminding you we’ll all be dead soon. Ack, no! That’s not what I meant. I just mean, be mindful. Life is short, it’s inherently immune to either being fair or unfair, and each one of us has this one shot at greatness. And I don’t mean greatness as in becoming a historical figure your grandchildren will study in textbooks, either. Be great where you are. Find your bliss and go with it.
Go forth and realize the possibilities. The world will thank you for it.
*Original photography used with permission by Lisa Guidarini.
Finn: A Novel, by Jon Clinch
Finn: A Novel
Written by Jon Clinch
Random House
Reviewed by Lisa Guidarini
I'll admit it. I've always been pretty much an elitist when it comes to the topic of literature. I was, you see, AN ENGLISH MAJOR. Not exactly a rare breed, but an elite one that's very proud of itself, thanks very much.
I received my B.A. in English literature from a very small, private, liberal arts school in suburban Chicago, and at the time I thought I was clearly answering just about the highest calling a book lover can. What I came to find out later, painfully so, was the rest of the world couldn't really have cared much less about how passionate I was about my area of study. Ultimately, I had a really expensive piece of paper to hang on my wall, and no viable opportunity for employment. But what I did have was my thoroughly snobbish stance on WHAT IS GREAT LITERATURE. On that I was unshakable.
For most of my life I thought it heresy to mess with the greatness that is the western canon. Works like Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea were always a huge thorn in my side. They were supremely irritating to me, in that self-righteous way things that are lowly irritate the ENGLISH MAJOR. How dare you mess with Jane Eyre, you upstart! Go write your own stuff, woman! Leave the Brontes alone. If Charlotte had wanted us to know Bertha's story she'd have written it in! Period. Now, leave off.
Blah, blah, blah. I dusted off the frame of my diploma with my tear-stained sleeve, weeping all over again at the injustice of it all.
Then came Michael Cunningham, whose The Hours made a foray into the world of Virginia Woolf that had steam coming out my ears. MY Virginia! I read the book once and thought "yeah, okay, interesting enough but it's a pale shadow." I read it again, and thought, "wow, I think I missed something the first time through, this is really timely and provocative." I read it a third time, and, finally, thought THIS IS BRILLIANT AND A GREAT HOMAGE."
Go figure.
When Random House sent me a copy of Finn to review I was intrigued. I respect Mark Twain's place in the American canon because he's, well, Mark Twain. He's iconic. He was uproariously funny, to put it very mildly, but he was also brilliantly socially aware, something that got him into a lot of hot water during his lifetime and still keeps him on the banned lists today. I knew all about Twain, but Jon Clinch I didn't know. He was new, and untested. This was his FIRST BOOK! He was no Mark Twain. I raised an eyebrow (the left, if you're wondering), skeptically.
Surprisingly, I found the premise of the book grabbed me immediately. The shadowy figure of Huckleberry Finn's father, the floating house, the body.... It had been so long since I'd read the book I'd forgotten all about those details. As lover of darkly written gothic writing, though, that was enough to sway me. I opted to read the book.
By the end of the first chapter I knew it. This was THE REAL THING. This wasn't the pale shadow, this was the strutting, self-assured player. Finn was, simply, a damn fine examination of what lay beneath the cryptic, incomplete portrait of what Mark Twain must have had in mind for Huck's father. This was the whole story, laid out for us, filled in with detail Twain probably didn't have in mind, but fulfilling the spirit of his inspiration. It was, essentially, the sort of dark masterpiece it should have been, to dare take on the task of fleshing out one of Mark Twain's characters.
Finn takes this one tiny sliver of information from Huckleberry Finn and expands it out to a tale about one of the most soulless characters in American literature. It tells the story of a man so without human morality, and so animalistic in nature, it's almost impossible to believe he could be real. Almost. The depth of the depravity in the book is nothing short of startling, but also nothing short of genius. That it's violent, and at times depicts the most vile side of humanity, is true, but it does so in one of the most well-conceived, most tightly-woven books I've read in a long time.
Finn could stand on its own, even if there had never been a Huckleberry Finn. It's that well-written and beautifully executed. But the fact it does base itself on the iconic classic, and does it so well, gives it a new facet altogether. The book should be studied alongside Twain's book in the university classroom. It should be studied in writing classes, as well. This is what we need more of in contemporary American writing. It's a substantial, brilliantly executed book that's both pain and pleasure within the same cover. As difficult to read as it is, due to its often unflinching brutality, its poetic beauty of style and form make it about as compelling as fiction gets.
Finn is one of the best contemporary books I've read in a very long time. It restored a lot of my faith in modern writing at a time when that was flagging. I look forward to what comes from Jon Clinch next. Whatever that is, I have no doubt it will be brilliant.
Written by Jon Clinch
Random House
Reviewed by Lisa Guidarini
I'll admit it. I've always been pretty much an elitist when it comes to the topic of literature. I was, you see, AN ENGLISH MAJOR. Not exactly a rare breed, but an elite one that's very proud of itself, thanks very much.I received my B.A. in English literature from a very small, private, liberal arts school in suburban Chicago, and at the time I thought I was clearly answering just about the highest calling a book lover can. What I came to find out later, painfully so, was the rest of the world couldn't really have cared much less about how passionate I was about my area of study. Ultimately, I had a really expensive piece of paper to hang on my wall, and no viable opportunity for employment. But what I did have was my thoroughly snobbish stance on WHAT IS GREAT LITERATURE. On that I was unshakable.
For most of my life I thought it heresy to mess with the greatness that is the western canon. Works like Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea were always a huge thorn in my side. They were supremely irritating to me, in that self-righteous way things that are lowly irritate the ENGLISH MAJOR. How dare you mess with Jane Eyre, you upstart! Go write your own stuff, woman! Leave the Brontes alone. If Charlotte had wanted us to know Bertha's story she'd have written it in! Period. Now, leave off.
Blah, blah, blah. I dusted off the frame of my diploma with my tear-stained sleeve, weeping all over again at the injustice of it all.
Then came Michael Cunningham, whose The Hours made a foray into the world of Virginia Woolf that had steam coming out my ears. MY Virginia! I read the book once and thought "yeah, okay, interesting enough but it's a pale shadow." I read it again, and thought, "wow, I think I missed something the first time through, this is really timely and provocative." I read it a third time, and, finally, thought THIS IS BRILLIANT AND A GREAT HOMAGE."
Go figure.
When Random House sent me a copy of Finn to review I was intrigued. I respect Mark Twain's place in the American canon because he's, well, Mark Twain. He's iconic. He was uproariously funny, to put it very mildly, but he was also brilliantly socially aware, something that got him into a lot of hot water during his lifetime and still keeps him on the banned lists today. I knew all about Twain, but Jon Clinch I didn't know. He was new, and untested. This was his FIRST BOOK! He was no Mark Twain. I raised an eyebrow (the left, if you're wondering), skeptically.
Surprisingly, I found the premise of the book grabbed me immediately. The shadowy figure of Huckleberry Finn's father, the floating house, the body.... It had been so long since I'd read the book I'd forgotten all about those details. As lover of darkly written gothic writing, though, that was enough to sway me. I opted to read the book.
By the end of the first chapter I knew it. This was THE REAL THING. This wasn't the pale shadow, this was the strutting, self-assured player. Finn was, simply, a damn fine examination of what lay beneath the cryptic, incomplete portrait of what Mark Twain must have had in mind for Huck's father. This was the whole story, laid out for us, filled in with detail Twain probably didn't have in mind, but fulfilling the spirit of his inspiration. It was, essentially, the sort of dark masterpiece it should have been, to dare take on the task of fleshing out one of Mark Twain's characters.
Finn takes this one tiny sliver of information from Huckleberry Finn and expands it out to a tale about one of the most soulless characters in American literature. It tells the story of a man so without human morality, and so animalistic in nature, it's almost impossible to believe he could be real. Almost. The depth of the depravity in the book is nothing short of startling, but also nothing short of genius. That it's violent, and at times depicts the most vile side of humanity, is true, but it does so in one of the most well-conceived, most tightly-woven books I've read in a long time.
Finn could stand on its own, even if there had never been a Huckleberry Finn. It's that well-written and beautifully executed. But the fact it does base itself on the iconic classic, and does it so well, gives it a new facet altogether. The book should be studied alongside Twain's book in the university classroom. It should be studied in writing classes, as well. This is what we need more of in contemporary American writing. It's a substantial, brilliantly executed book that's both pain and pleasure within the same cover. As difficult to read as it is, due to its often unflinching brutality, its poetic beauty of style and form make it about as compelling as fiction gets.
Finn is one of the best contemporary books I've read in a very long time. It restored a lot of my faith in modern writing at a time when that was flagging. I look forward to what comes from Jon Clinch next. Whatever that is, I have no doubt it will be brilliant.
*Review originally published at Bluestalking Reader.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Author Interview: Billy Collins
Interviewed by Lisa G.
On February 19 I had the pleasure of interviewing former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins via telephone. Mr. Collins served two terms as Poet Laureate, from 2001 - 2003. He was also selected as New York State Poet for 2004.
Billy Collins has published several collections of poetry (bibliography below, from wikipedia.com), and he's been included in many anthologies.
LG: Were you an avid reader as a child? What were your favorite books?
BC: I was not only an avid reader but I used to pretend to read before I could read. I was an only child and that lead to a very rich reading life. When my parents would have people over I would pretend to be reading. I would have an encyclopedia on my lap and I'd pretend to be reading it. I knew which way to turn it because of the pictures.
Later, when I was able to read, I read all the Hardy boys, and the Albert Payson Terhune books about Lad and Lassie. They're basically all the same story, with the names changed. I read Black Beauty and The Yearling. Those I read a number of times and had them read to me.
My parents didn't have a TV until everyone else had a TV. We had the collected Dickens in the house, and my mother said, half-jokingly, if I read all of Dickens we could get a TV. I didn't read all of Dickens.
Mother Goose is the original inspiration for all poets. That's where they get an idea of rhythm and rhyme. My mother had memorized a lot of poetry as a schoolgirl. She went to a rural school in Ontario, Canada. She housed hundreds and hundreds of lines of poetry. If any occasion arose she'd have a few lines of poetry about it.
LG: When did you start writing poetry?
BC: I don't think anyone escapes childhood, or adolescence, without writing some really horrible, usually lovesick, poetry, poems of a misunderstood adolescent who was convinced no one in the course of history had ever felt this way before.
I didn't write my first book until I was in my 40s. It took me a long time to figure it out, or find my voice, or combine these different influences so it sounded like me. I was writing all along, kind of on the side. I went to grad school and began teaching literature in college. I've been doing that most of my life. I used to be a professor who wrote poetry. Now I'm a poet who happens to be a professor.
LG: How many hours a day do you write? Do you keep a strict schedule?
BC: I have no work habits whatsoever. I don't write every day, so often it would be zero hours per day. I kind of hold onto a romantic view. People say in order to be a writer you have to write all the time. The poem will come along when it arrives. I try to be on the lookout for creative opportunities, something that might trigger a poem, but I don't sit down in the morning and try to commit an act of literature before lunch.
LG: That sounds a lot different than writing fiction.
BC: It is very different from fiction writing. As Hemingway said you always knock off for the day in the middle of a scene, but poets have to restart themselves all the time. Poets return much more often to the blank page.
I heard about a survey once, the results of which are poets are more inclined to suicide because of the anxiety of starting afresh. Depression visits poets more frequently. You can write a lyric poem in a couple of hours. You don't know if the next poem will start the next hour or a month from now. Poetry's known for its brevity, but that's also the bad news for writers.
LG: Do you do a lot of re-writing?
BC: Less and less. I try to make it right the first time. The conceptual journey of the poetry is all done in one sitting, from beginning to middle to end. I hardly ever change the movement of the poem as it navigates itself. What I do change are matters of rhythm and sound, finding an adjective. But I never go back and say this is all wrong.
LG: Do you write on the computer or longhand?
BC: I write with a pencil, always longhand. I make a mess and scratch things out. A pencil seems very fluid. I put it on the computer at the very last minute, when I think it's done. On the computer it looks fixed in place and it's pretty much done. When you put it on a computer you see what it looks like. The look of prose is irrelevant, but the poem has a shape to it which is the result of line breaks and stanza breaks, so you can see what you couldn't see with the pencil. Shapeliness is one of the attractive aspects of poetry. When I get it on the screen I do some shaping to make it look right.
LG: Do any other genres, besides poetry, appeal to you?
BC: Not really. I think it's sort of like in music. It's enough to be able to play one fairly well. That's the question musicians never get, do you play any other instruments.
I write some prose, I write essays on poetry. Criticism. I wouldn't know what I was doing if I wrote a short story.
LG: What writers have influenced you the most?
BC: That's a tough question. There are too many to name. It's not even clear the degree of influence. Often people will spout names like Yeats, Coleridge, etc., but I think these are flags of convenience. It's hard to think of something that hasn't influenced me, positively or negatively.
I've taught literature in college for so many years. Every semester I re-read Emily Dickinson, Wordsworth, Marvel. I read them all semester after semester.
What I think of as an influence is a poet who makes you jealous. It's a polite way of saying other writers inflame you with jealousy. Driven by a jealous rage you go off and try to write something like that, or try to steal from them in order to exact revenge.
LG: I've read that you consider your poetry to be "hospitable," which some refer to as accessible. How do you distinguish between hospitable and poetry that's considered difficult or obscure?
BC: I think I discovered that you can write clearly in clear language and still have access to areas of great mystery. To write doesn't mean to get stuck on a literal level. There are poets who follow etiquette. I write in sentences. I use standard punctuation, beginning with a standard note the reader can identify with. Once that engagement is made the poet can head off in less familiar directions and take the reader on an imaginative journey in which the writer doesn't know where he's going.
A poem begins in clarity and ends in mystery, if a poet is able to understand that distinction and knows when to be clear and when to be mysterious. It's important to know which cards to turn over, and which to leave face down. In the worst poetry all the cards are face down.
LG: Aside from writing, what are your pastimes?
BC: I play the piano. I have a dog I'm obsessed with.
LG: What kind of dog?
BC: She's a mutt, mostly collie. It goes back to those Albert Payson Terhune books. I live in New York City, on the Hudson River in the Village. That's a good opportunity for walking.
LG: What projects are you working on currently?
BC: I'm finishing a manuscript but I don't know if it's done yet. I think the publisher would like it but I'm not sure it's ready. I don't want to rush it into print. I don't know how many aces I have.
LG: What advice would you give to aspiring poets?
BC: That goes back to that influence question. Just read. Find poets that make you jealous. The only hope you have in what would be called originality is through a process of imitation. It's a matter of getting rid of the young poet's delusion that your experiences are so original that you're going to announce this in original language. What inspires poetry is poetry. It's not the muse. It's not nature. It's not emotion. It's other poetry that inspires poetry. When you write poetry you're adding your voice to this long historic voice. You need to listen to these for a long time before you even know what your voice would possibly add. Read widely and quickly. Don't waste your time on poetry that doesn't talk to you.
LG: Thank you very much. I appreciate it.
BC: Thank you.
Special thanks to Steven Barclay, of Steven Barclay Agency, for putting me in touch with Mr. Collins.
Bibliography
Poems
The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems, (2005, ISBN 0-375-50382-X)
Nine Horses (2002, ISBN 0-375-50381-1), named a notable book of the year by the New York Times Book Review
Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (2001, ISBN 0-375-50380-3), named a notable book of the year by the New York Times Book Review
Picnic, Lightning (1998, ISBN 0-8229-4066-3)
The Art of Drowning (1995, ISBN 0-8229-3893-6), which was a Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize finalist
Questions About Angels (1991, ISBN 0-8229-4211-9), the winner (two years later) of the National Poetry Series competition
The Apple That Astonished Paris (1988, ISBN 1-55728-023-1)
Video Poems (1980)
Pokerface (1977)
Anthologies
180 More: Extraordinary Poems for Everyday Life (2005, ISBN 0-8129-7296-1)
Poetry 180: A Turning Back to Poetry, (2003 ISBN 0-8129-6887-5)
The Best American Poetry 2006, Scribner Poetry, New York (2006, ISBN 0-7432-2967-9-8)
Copyright © 2007 Lisa Guidarini
On February 19 I had the pleasure of interviewing former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins via telephone. Mr. Collins served two terms as Poet Laureate, from 2001 - 2003. He was also selected as New York State Poet for 2004.Billy Collins has published several collections of poetry (bibliography below, from wikipedia.com), and he's been included in many anthologies.
LG: Were you an avid reader as a child? What were your favorite books?
BC: I was not only an avid reader but I used to pretend to read before I could read. I was an only child and that lead to a very rich reading life. When my parents would have people over I would pretend to be reading. I would have an encyclopedia on my lap and I'd pretend to be reading it. I knew which way to turn it because of the pictures.
Later, when I was able to read, I read all the Hardy boys, and the Albert Payson Terhune books about Lad and Lassie. They're basically all the same story, with the names changed. I read Black Beauty and The Yearling. Those I read a number of times and had them read to me.
My parents didn't have a TV until everyone else had a TV. We had the collected Dickens in the house, and my mother said, half-jokingly, if I read all of Dickens we could get a TV. I didn't read all of Dickens.
Mother Goose is the original inspiration for all poets. That's where they get an idea of rhythm and rhyme. My mother had memorized a lot of poetry as a schoolgirl. She went to a rural school in Ontario, Canada. She housed hundreds and hundreds of lines of poetry. If any occasion arose she'd have a few lines of poetry about it.
LG: When did you start writing poetry?
BC: I don't think anyone escapes childhood, or adolescence, without writing some really horrible, usually lovesick, poetry, poems of a misunderstood adolescent who was convinced no one in the course of history had ever felt this way before.
I didn't write my first book until I was in my 40s. It took me a long time to figure it out, or find my voice, or combine these different influences so it sounded like me. I was writing all along, kind of on the side. I went to grad school and began teaching literature in college. I've been doing that most of my life. I used to be a professor who wrote poetry. Now I'm a poet who happens to be a professor.
LG: How many hours a day do you write? Do you keep a strict schedule?
BC: I have no work habits whatsoever. I don't write every day, so often it would be zero hours per day. I kind of hold onto a romantic view. People say in order to be a writer you have to write all the time. The poem will come along when it arrives. I try to be on the lookout for creative opportunities, something that might trigger a poem, but I don't sit down in the morning and try to commit an act of literature before lunch.
LG: That sounds a lot different than writing fiction.
BC: It is very different from fiction writing. As Hemingway said you always knock off for the day in the middle of a scene, but poets have to restart themselves all the time. Poets return much more often to the blank page.
I heard about a survey once, the results of which are poets are more inclined to suicide because of the anxiety of starting afresh. Depression visits poets more frequently. You can write a lyric poem in a couple of hours. You don't know if the next poem will start the next hour or a month from now. Poetry's known for its brevity, but that's also the bad news for writers.
LG: Do you do a lot of re-writing?
BC: Less and less. I try to make it right the first time. The conceptual journey of the poetry is all done in one sitting, from beginning to middle to end. I hardly ever change the movement of the poem as it navigates itself. What I do change are matters of rhythm and sound, finding an adjective. But I never go back and say this is all wrong.
LG: Do you write on the computer or longhand?
BC: I write with a pencil, always longhand. I make a mess and scratch things out. A pencil seems very fluid. I put it on the computer at the very last minute, when I think it's done. On the computer it looks fixed in place and it's pretty much done. When you put it on a computer you see what it looks like. The look of prose is irrelevant, but the poem has a shape to it which is the result of line breaks and stanza breaks, so you can see what you couldn't see with the pencil. Shapeliness is one of the attractive aspects of poetry. When I get it on the screen I do some shaping to make it look right.
LG: Do any other genres, besides poetry, appeal to you?
BC: Not really. I think it's sort of like in music. It's enough to be able to play one fairly well. That's the question musicians never get, do you play any other instruments.
I write some prose, I write essays on poetry. Criticism. I wouldn't know what I was doing if I wrote a short story.
LG: What writers have influenced you the most?
BC: That's a tough question. There are too many to name. It's not even clear the degree of influence. Often people will spout names like Yeats, Coleridge, etc., but I think these are flags of convenience. It's hard to think of something that hasn't influenced me, positively or negatively.
I've taught literature in college for so many years. Every semester I re-read Emily Dickinson, Wordsworth, Marvel. I read them all semester after semester.
What I think of as an influence is a poet who makes you jealous. It's a polite way of saying other writers inflame you with jealousy. Driven by a jealous rage you go off and try to write something like that, or try to steal from them in order to exact revenge.
LG: I've read that you consider your poetry to be "hospitable," which some refer to as accessible. How do you distinguish between hospitable and poetry that's considered difficult or obscure?
BC: I think I discovered that you can write clearly in clear language and still have access to areas of great mystery. To write doesn't mean to get stuck on a literal level. There are poets who follow etiquette. I write in sentences. I use standard punctuation, beginning with a standard note the reader can identify with. Once that engagement is made the poet can head off in less familiar directions and take the reader on an imaginative journey in which the writer doesn't know where he's going.
A poem begins in clarity and ends in mystery, if a poet is able to understand that distinction and knows when to be clear and when to be mysterious. It's important to know which cards to turn over, and which to leave face down. In the worst poetry all the cards are face down.
LG: Aside from writing, what are your pastimes?
BC: I play the piano. I have a dog I'm obsessed with.
LG: What kind of dog?
BC: She's a mutt, mostly collie. It goes back to those Albert Payson Terhune books. I live in New York City, on the Hudson River in the Village. That's a good opportunity for walking.
LG: What projects are you working on currently?
BC: I'm finishing a manuscript but I don't know if it's done yet. I think the publisher would like it but I'm not sure it's ready. I don't want to rush it into print. I don't know how many aces I have.
LG: What advice would you give to aspiring poets?
BC: That goes back to that influence question. Just read. Find poets that make you jealous. The only hope you have in what would be called originality is through a process of imitation. It's a matter of getting rid of the young poet's delusion that your experiences are so original that you're going to announce this in original language. What inspires poetry is poetry. It's not the muse. It's not nature. It's not emotion. It's other poetry that inspires poetry. When you write poetry you're adding your voice to this long historic voice. You need to listen to these for a long time before you even know what your voice would possibly add. Read widely and quickly. Don't waste your time on poetry that doesn't talk to you.
LG: Thank you very much. I appreciate it.
BC: Thank you.
Special thanks to Steven Barclay, of Steven Barclay Agency, for putting me in touch with Mr. Collins.
Bibliography
Poems
The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems, (2005, ISBN 0-375-50382-X)
Nine Horses (2002, ISBN 0-375-50381-1), named a notable book of the year by the New York Times Book Review
Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (2001, ISBN 0-375-50380-3), named a notable book of the year by the New York Times Book Review
Picnic, Lightning (1998, ISBN 0-8229-4066-3)
The Art of Drowning (1995, ISBN 0-8229-3893-6), which was a Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize finalist
Questions About Angels (1991, ISBN 0-8229-4211-9), the winner (two years later) of the National Poetry Series competition
The Apple That Astonished Paris (1988, ISBN 1-55728-023-1)
Video Poems (1980)
Pokerface (1977)
Anthologies
180 More: Extraordinary Poems for Everyday Life (2005, ISBN 0-8129-7296-1)
Poetry 180: A Turning Back to Poetry, (2003 ISBN 0-8129-6887-5)
The Best American Poetry 2006, Scribner Poetry, New York (2006, ISBN 0-7432-2967-9-8)
Copyright © 2007 Lisa Guidarini
Kockroach
Kockroach: A Novel
Written by Tyler Knox
William Morrow
Reviewed by Lisa G.
I can get really jaded after reading so many review books. The big publishers send me a lot of first novels and thrillers, with the occasional yummy literary fiction from a more established author thrown in for good measure. They also send a little nonfiction and memoir, for seasoning. After reading and reviewing a few of these I usually find myself pretty desperate for something really good, and really original, but at the same time I hardly believe anything is good or original after reading so many predictable, mainstream, cookie-cutter books. That's a sad statement on publishing these days, but I don't think it will really shock anyone to know a lot of books are just plain tripe, not worth the time and effort spent on them, and not likely to be remembered a week after they're published.
The shelf life on a new work of fiction is only about three or four months, for the average book. After that point everyone's moved onto something else. Unsold copies of these "older" books go back to the publisher, to either be remaindered and sold at cut-rate (authors get no royalties for these remainder books) or to be shredded and recycled. Such is the life of your average work of fiction, at least if it doesn't manage to make a name for itself really quickly. It's no wonder so many writers are turning to self-publishing. You have to do your own marketing and publicity either way (unless you're a household name), and at least with self-publishing you control the inventory. That's something.
Enter Tyler Knox's brand new book Kockroach. It was like a breath of fresh air after a long, stale winter. Kockroach is basically a twist on Kafka's classic novel Metamorphosis, turning the premise of that book on its head. Instead of a man morphing into an insect, in Knox's book an insect turns into a man, to his dismay and occasional disgust. But, as one of the most adaptable creatures on earth, the cockroach very quickly learns how to imitate humans in order to survive and even thrive among them. "Greed and fear, greed and fear" is a statement Knox repeats over and over as the two primary motivating factors in a cockroach. Whether it's motivating for just the cockroach is a whole other issue.
Most people the cockroach meets assume he's foreign-born, trying desperately to assimilate. Knox uses the situation of this bug/man to make comparisons with a foreigner in modern American society. He covers all the bases, including language barriers (the cockroach imitates the patterns, before he eventually learn what the words mean), to clothing, to the inability to find a job due to the fact he can't fully understand these "foreign" humans, etc. Often the humans see the cockroach's strange antics but they tune him out, thinking it's not their problem, so why should they worry? This is a damning indictment of modern society.
The one person to treat the cockroach differently is a small-statured man name "Mite," or Mickey Pimelia. Mite gives the cockroach his name, Jerry Blatta, a name created partly due to the strange noises the man/cockroach makes. Mite is very street-wise. He lost his parents at a young age, forcing him to survive by his own wits. He shares his wisdom with Jerry Blatta, taking him under his wing, teaching him how to work the system until eventually the student surpasses the master.
There's also a love interest in the book,which sounds weird but it's actually developed very naturally. It's not the conventional sort of love interest, but it definitely works in the context of the book. The woman's name is Celia, and with her Jerry comes about as close to being fully human as he's really capable of being. They share an on-again, off-again relationship throughout the book, providing Knox with an opportunity to explore the universality of love. As with everything in this novel, this is extremely well done.
Knox makes a lot of fairly damning statements on modern American society through Kockroach, playfully using the strange contrast of the cockroach vs. the human as his structure. It's skillful and impressive, never hitting you over the head with a MESSAGE, always staying just this side of preachy by use of his wonderful humor. The scientific detail in the book is also remarkable. Knox obviously did a lot of research on his subject. Everything from eating habits to social habits to even sex is detailed, sometimes a little more than you want, but that goes with the territory. I had to do a little looking away at times. I don't always have a very strong stomach, but the detail is there for those who do.
This is an extremely rich and wonderful book. I'd give it my highest recommendation as one of the most original, impressive debuts I've read in a while. It's smart, funny and edgy, exactly what a book must be these days if it's going to stay out of the shredder. In the end, Knox throws in a bit of irony I very much appreciated. The cockroach eventually ends up in politics. How's that for justice?
Written by Tyler Knox
William Morrow
Reviewed by Lisa G.
I can get really jaded after reading so many review books. The big publishers send me a lot of first novels and thrillers, with the occasional yummy literary fiction from a more established author thrown in for good measure. They also send a little nonfiction and memoir, for seasoning. After reading and reviewing a few of these I usually find myself pretty desperate for something really good, and really original, but at the same time I hardly believe anything is good or original after reading so many predictable, mainstream, cookie-cutter books. That's a sad statement on publishing these days, but I don't think it will really shock anyone to know a lot of books are just plain tripe, not worth the time and effort spent on them, and not likely to be remembered a week after they're published.The shelf life on a new work of fiction is only about three or four months, for the average book. After that point everyone's moved onto something else. Unsold copies of these "older" books go back to the publisher, to either be remaindered and sold at cut-rate (authors get no royalties for these remainder books) or to be shredded and recycled. Such is the life of your average work of fiction, at least if it doesn't manage to make a name for itself really quickly. It's no wonder so many writers are turning to self-publishing. You have to do your own marketing and publicity either way (unless you're a household name), and at least with self-publishing you control the inventory. That's something.
Enter Tyler Knox's brand new book Kockroach. It was like a breath of fresh air after a long, stale winter. Kockroach is basically a twist on Kafka's classic novel Metamorphosis, turning the premise of that book on its head. Instead of a man morphing into an insect, in Knox's book an insect turns into a man, to his dismay and occasional disgust. But, as one of the most adaptable creatures on earth, the cockroach very quickly learns how to imitate humans in order to survive and even thrive among them. "Greed and fear, greed and fear" is a statement Knox repeats over and over as the two primary motivating factors in a cockroach. Whether it's motivating for just the cockroach is a whole other issue.
Most people the cockroach meets assume he's foreign-born, trying desperately to assimilate. Knox uses the situation of this bug/man to make comparisons with a foreigner in modern American society. He covers all the bases, including language barriers (the cockroach imitates the patterns, before he eventually learn what the words mean), to clothing, to the inability to find a job due to the fact he can't fully understand these "foreign" humans, etc. Often the humans see the cockroach's strange antics but they tune him out, thinking it's not their problem, so why should they worry? This is a damning indictment of modern society.
The one person to treat the cockroach differently is a small-statured man name "Mite," or Mickey Pimelia. Mite gives the cockroach his name, Jerry Blatta, a name created partly due to the strange noises the man/cockroach makes. Mite is very street-wise. He lost his parents at a young age, forcing him to survive by his own wits. He shares his wisdom with Jerry Blatta, taking him under his wing, teaching him how to work the system until eventually the student surpasses the master.
There's also a love interest in the book,which sounds weird but it's actually developed very naturally. It's not the conventional sort of love interest, but it definitely works in the context of the book. The woman's name is Celia, and with her Jerry comes about as close to being fully human as he's really capable of being. They share an on-again, off-again relationship throughout the book, providing Knox with an opportunity to explore the universality of love. As with everything in this novel, this is extremely well done.
Knox makes a lot of fairly damning statements on modern American society through Kockroach, playfully using the strange contrast of the cockroach vs. the human as his structure. It's skillful and impressive, never hitting you over the head with a MESSAGE, always staying just this side of preachy by use of his wonderful humor. The scientific detail in the book is also remarkable. Knox obviously did a lot of research on his subject. Everything from eating habits to social habits to even sex is detailed, sometimes a little more than you want, but that goes with the territory. I had to do a little looking away at times. I don't always have a very strong stomach, but the detail is there for those who do.
This is an extremely rich and wonderful book. I'd give it my highest recommendation as one of the most original, impressive debuts I've read in a while. It's smart, funny and edgy, exactly what a book must be these days if it's going to stay out of the shredder. In the end, Knox throws in a bit of irony I very much appreciated. The cockroach eventually ends up in politics. How's that for justice?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Author Interview - Frank Portman
An Interview with Frank Portman, Author of King DorkBy Lisa G.
From School Library Journal
Grade 10 Up-Original, heartfelt, and sparkling with wit and intelligence, this debut novel tells the story of a 14-year-old outsider, Tom Henderson. For him, life is a series of humiliations, from the associate principal who mocks him to the popular girls who put him on their Dud list. The teen takes refuge in music, writing songs, and inventing band names with his only friend, Sam. He looks for a copy of The Catcher in the Rye in a box of books left by his father, a detective who died under strange circumstances. Tom sets out to read each volume, decode the secret messages that he finds, and figure out who his father really was. The daily torments of life at Hillmont High School play out brilliantly in ways that are both hilarious and heartbreaking. Sexual references and encounters abound, and the language is frank-oral sex is a frequent topic, as is drug use by teens and adults-but none of it is gratuitous. The plot unfolds at a leisurely pace, with digressions on music, popular culture, high school customs, literary criticism, and general philosophical observations, but Tom is so engaging that most readers won't mind. He's intellectually far above most of his peers but still recognizably a teen in his obsessions. The plot's mysteries come together for a conclusion that is satisfying but doesn't tie up all the loose ends. This dazzling novel will linger long in readers' memories.-Miranda Doyle, San Francisco Public Library Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
1. King Dork was obviously heavily influenced by Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. What was it about Salinger's classic that particularly inspired you, and in what ways is that book still relevant today?
Many books about teenagers invoke The Catcher in the Rye, and many authors and publishers try to spin their books as The Catcher in the Rye of the Future. Writing a book from the point of view of a disaffected, smart-ass high school student automatically put me in that category, I knew, so I decided to have fun with the situation. Catcher in the Rye is the book on rebellion that everyone is required to love (an ironic situation to be sure) so I had my narrator base a great deal of his analysis and description of the world on a deep-seated loathing for the book. At the same time, the book and the character mimic and parody aspects of Holden Caulfield, often in ways that the mock-sophisticated narrator doesn't even realize. Which I thought was kind of cool.
As for whether CitR is "relevant" today: it certainly is, as it is still in print and still celebrated unquestioningly by thousands of teachers and librarians, priests and rabbis, actors, actresses, and rock stars, along with perhaps millions of earnest non-celebrity readers. Putting it on your list of favorite books is guaranteed to make practically everyone you come in contact with say something like "what a wonderful, wonderful person! That's *my* favorite book, too!" Since my book was published, though, I've heard from an astonishing number of people, young and old, who share Tom Henderson's lack of enthusiasm for it, leading me to believe that there has to be a significant proportion of Catcher in the Rye fans who are, in fact, faking it.
2. What writing projects are you working on currently? Have you considered writing for the adult market, or do you plan to keep writing for young adults?
I'm working on my second novel now. Like a lot of writers, I cling to belief that my work is for everyone, regardless of marketing category. However, I have a long-standing relationship with YA as a reader and now as a writer and I love being a part of the tradition. Plus, it has worked out pretty well so far so I'm sticking with it.
3. What advice would you give to aspiring writers of fiction in general, or young adult fiction in particular?
You can have all sorts of grand schemes and hifalutin ideas about changing the face of fiction and so forth, but it's never going to happen till you actually start typing, something to which few writers are in the end willing to stoop.
4. What have you been reading lately? Is there anything you're reading now, or have read recently, that's impressed you?
I loved David Mitchell's Black Swan Green.
5. Aside from writing and reading, what else do you feel passionately about?
Passionate" might be pushing it, but I do like to watch TV, or at least to have the TV on in the background. I am in love with background noise. I like rock and roll music, too. And cheeseburgers.
6. Do you have a favorite quotation, or perhaps just a few words, you feel sums up your philosophy on life?
"Love is like oxygenYou get too much, you get too high;not enough and you're gonna die.Love gets you high."
7. If you were marooned on an island, stuck in an elevator, or otherwise cut off from society, what one book would you want to have with you?
Code of the Woosters.
8. What memories do you have from your childhood, about your experiences in public libraries? Did they play a role at all in your love of books and reading?
I spent a great deal of my childhood in the local public library and I worked there as a page in middle school and high school. As a kid, I loved how it was almost always practically deserted, except for the desultory staff and a senior citizen here or there. When I myself later became a member of the desultory staff, I appreciated this deserted quality even more. I passed the time by reading every book in the children's fiction section in alphabetical order; hence my deep knowledge of the YA tradition. And I imagine that when I am a senior citizen, I will return once again, to stand near the magazine rack with a confused and vaguely hostile air, totally unaware of my surroundings. So it goes.
Author Frank Portman
Frank Portman's website: www.frankportman.com
Kenya's Mobile Library: The Camel Bookmobile
By Lisa G.
Life in Kenya, along the unstable border with Somalia, is grueling. People there scrape out a living, moving from place to place in a semi-nomadic existence. Food, shelter and protection from violence are full-time worries. Providing children with books is a luxury the people there simply cannot afford.
Books, as we know, expand the mind. They provide light, hope, and an escape from the rigors of daily life. They also give children a reason to dream, opening them to new ideas while also helping them pass long, wearisome hours.
Here in the United States we are fortunately blessed with libraries, ensuring that even the poorest have access to books. In Kenya life isn't quite that simple.
A group of authors, lead by Masha Hamilton, have started an organization called Authors for African Literacy. Hamilton, along with nine other authors so far, are sending books to these children in Kenya. They're asking others to do the same, donating boxes of books to these impoverished, nutritionally and educationally malnourished children.
Masha Hamilton is the author of the novel The Camel Bookmobile, which will be published this year by HarperCollins. Her book is fiction, but the story behind it is real.
Books, as we know, expand the mind. They provide light, hope, and an escape from the rigors of daily life. They also give children a reason to dream, opening them to new ideas while also helping them pass long, wearisome hours.
Here in the United States we are fortunately blessed with libraries, ensuring that even the poorest have access to books. In Kenya life isn't quite that simple.
A group of authors, lead by Masha Hamilton, have started an organization called Authors for African Literacy. Hamilton, along with nine other authors so far, are sending books to these children in Kenya. They're asking others to do the same, donating boxes of books to these impoverished, nutritionally and educationally malnourished children.
Masha Hamilton is the author of the novel The Camel Bookmobile, which will be published this year by HarperCollins. Her book is fiction, but the story behind it is real.
From Publishers Weekly:
"Hamilton's captivating third novel (after 2004's The Distance Between Us) follows Fiona Sweeney, a 36-year-old librarian, from New York to Garissa, Kenya, on her sincere but naive quest to make a difference in the world. Fi enlists to run the titular mobile library overseen by Mr. Abasi, and in her travels through the bush, the small village of Mididima becomes her favorite stop. There, Matani, the village teacher; Kanika, an independent, vivacious young woman; and Kanika's grandmother Neema are the most avid proponents of the library and the knowledge it brings to the community. Not everyone shares such esteem for the project, however. Taban, known as Scar Boy; Jwahir, Matani's wife; and most of the town elders think these books threaten the tradition and security of Mididima. When two books go missing, tensions arise between those who welcome all that the books represent and those who prefer the time-honored oral traditions of the tribe. Kanika, Taban and Matani become more vibrant than Fi, who never outgrows the cookie-cutter mold of a woman needing excitement and fulfillment, but Hamilton weaves memorable characters and elemental emotions in artful prose with the lofty theme of Western-imposed "education" versus a village's perceived perils of exposure to the developed world. (Apr.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
If you'd like to make a donation to Kenya's Mobile Library, see The Camel Bookmobile website for more details. A group of people could donate a box of books, to help minimize shipping costs. You may also donate money directly to the drive to help pay shipping, by following the link on their webpage. Amazon.com offers the opportunity to purchase books for the project, as well, via their website. You'll just need to pay a little extra to cover the international shipping.
"Hamilton's captivating third novel (after 2004's The Distance Between Us) follows Fiona Sweeney, a 36-year-old librarian, from New York to Garissa, Kenya, on her sincere but naive quest to make a difference in the world. Fi enlists to run the titular mobile library overseen by Mr. Abasi, and in her travels through the bush, the small village of Mididima becomes her favorite stop. There, Matani, the village teacher; Kanika, an independent, vivacious young woman; and Kanika's grandmother Neema are the most avid proponents of the library and the knowledge it brings to the community. Not everyone shares such esteem for the project, however. Taban, known as Scar Boy; Jwahir, Matani's wife; and most of the town elders think these books threaten the tradition and security of Mididima. When two books go missing, tensions arise between those who welcome all that the books represent and those who prefer the time-honored oral traditions of the tribe. Kanika, Taban and Matani become more vibrant than Fi, who never outgrows the cookie-cutter mold of a woman needing excitement and fulfillment, but Hamilton weaves memorable characters and elemental emotions in artful prose with the lofty theme of Western-imposed "education" versus a village's perceived perils of exposure to the developed world. (Apr.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
If you'd like to make a donation to Kenya's Mobile Library, see The Camel Bookmobile website for more details. A group of people could donate a box of books, to help minimize shipping costs. You may also donate money directly to the drive to help pay shipping, by following the link on their webpage. Amazon.com offers the opportunity to purchase books for the project, as well, via their website. You'll just need to pay a little extra to cover the international shipping. Seeing children's faces light up at the sight of a book is priceless, especially when you know these are children for whom books are a huge luxury. Sending a book to an impoverished child gives the satisfaction of knowing we've turned on one little light, halfway around the globe. That's one little light with the potential to grow and light the whole world.
Gems
By Lisa G.
It probably won’t shock a lot of people if I say I was a loner as a child. A huge majority of writers and creative types spent a lot of time alone as children. Hell, a lot of us spend as much time as we can alone as adults. I don’t think that necessarily makes us weirdos or anything. At least I hope not. I can say this, at least I don’t go driving cross-country sporting a diaper and planning to murder anyone with a butcher knife. You can say what you want about us writer types, but I think THAT’S what’s wacko. A little alone time has nothing on that.
Looking back now, I realize I spent the majority of my childhood in or around my house. My mother didn’t drive until I was in junior high, and since she was the one home with me all day that meant I really didn’t go too many places. Luckily for her, that never really bothered me all that much. I was pretty much an aspiring couch potato from the get-go. TV and books were entertainment enough a lot of the time, and when the yen to play struck me I had two friends who lived across the street.
One of my friends was a boy named Scotty. Scotty’s big distinction was he owned a Hippity Hop. I didn’t own a Hippity Hop, but I knew where I could get my hands on one. I think I must have loved Scotty in that “you have really cool toys” kind of way, but at the time that I knew him, I was too young to even know what a crush was. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I had a sort of crush on David Cassidy. And Davy Jones. What the big attraction was to the name David I really don’t know. I think it may have been just coincidence. I have to wonder, if Scotty had been Davy, would I have wound up marrying him, living happily ever after bouncing away on his Hippity Hop? Scotty, if you’re out there, I’m so sorry your name wasn’t Davy. But I’m more sorry about losing that Hippity Hop.
Across the street and slightly kitty-corner from me lived my friend Lisa Mayor. Lisa was much cooler than I could ever hope to be. She had long, straight blonde hair and was, I know now, popular. Popularity at that stage of my life didn’t mean much to me. After all, Lisa was a decent enough friend, and she played with me on occasion. She had birthday parties and invited me. She came over to my house, and I went over to hers, with a fair degree of regularity. But what made Lisa really cool was that she once split her head open on her driveway, after falling off her bike. She split her head open and LIVED! That was pretty neat, to a six year old. I can remember my friend Scotty coming to my house soon after it happened. Scotty heard about it first, I guess because he lived on the same side of the street she did so the gossip traveled better. After he came to fetch me, we went over to see if we could find the blood on the driveway. To our dismay, we couldn’t. Lisa had split her head open, lived, and miraculously her blood had disappeared. Until a few years later when a tornado ripped through the block behind Scotty and Lisa’s houses, this was the highlight of our respective childhoods. Well, maybe not as much to Lisa, who had to do the actual suffering so that Scotty and I could reap the benefits.
On days when Scotty was busy showing someone else his toys, and Lisa was with her other friends (or taking aspirin for her throbbing head), I pretty much spent all my spare time reading. Even with friends right across the street (and friends with really neat toys at that), I really did manage to read a lot during those years. Don’t let all the excitement fool you.
Along with all the picture books I read really early on, I also inherited a set of Children’s Classics. These books came down to me through my two older brothers, one of whom was also a rabid reader. As for my other brother, well, he owned a mini-bike. He had a lot of serious exploring to do. He never was much for reading.
The books in this particular set consisted of ten or so abridged, illustrated classics, all in different colored cloth covers. It included books like Treasure Island, Tales of King Arthur and Robin Hood. The only really girlie book in the set was Alice in Wonderland. I went through several of these books with help from my oldest brother, who had the patience to sit down and help me with the really tough words, but Alice in Wonderland was probably the first “chapter” book I sampled on my own. After I graduated from Richard Scarry and his wonderful world of animals who wore pants, it was Alice who transfixed me. She was English, she spoke very formally, and she was adventurous. She was also saucy. The girl didn’t take any crap from anyone, even when that someone was a queen with the power to cut off her head. Alice ruled! She was essentially everything I wanted to be but wasn’t.
The illustrations in Alice also mesmerized me. Most of them were half-page line drawings, but a very few of them were full-color, full-page illustrations. They depicted a skewed, surreal world in which menacing cats grinned down at you from branches, appearing and disappearing randomly. A group of manic animals and a Mad Hatter (obviously, I can see now, high as a kite) held ridiculous tea parties in which they hurled abuse at each other and then just fell asleep, and a grotesque Red Queen blubbered on threateningly. Alice, through it all, kept her head, stood her ground, and was the coolest girl on earth.
Fantastical worlds in which everything is possible and nothing happens as expected allow a child’s mind to soar. It’s hard to imagine any book besides Alice in Wonderland setting the tone for my personality, mostly because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having met her. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that. Lewis Carroll taught me it was okay to be unusual. He taught me it’s okay if things don’t always make sense. Ultimately, he taught me fantasy is a whole hell of a lot more interesting than reality, and weird, twisted people have much more going for them than boring, predictable types. In a way, he taught me how to cope with what was a pretty crappy childhood. He didn’t solve my problems, but the ability to lean on the absurd and surreal went a long way toward making it all a little more bearable.
When I was reading and re-reading Alice in Wonderland I had no idea Lewis Carroll was a creepy weirdo interested in little girls in an inappropriate way. Learning that later made me less comfortable with the book, and that felt like a real loss to me. Knowing Carroll took and was in possession of photos of little girls in various states of undress is upsetting. It’s destabilizing when you find out a major childhood influence was, at best, one step removed from being a pedophile. Still, I believe Alice herself, and her adventurous spirit, are still good models for a life philosophy. I can still grant Carroll that, though I wish like anything the reality of his intentions could have been far different. Being unable to change that, the best I can do is separate Carroll the man from his work as a writer, granting him enough benefit of the doubt to still be able to appreciate the world he created.
Ironically enough, it turns out a pedophile helped ease some of my most difficult early years, and even with the tarnish that’s on it I still consider Alice in Wonderland to be a true gem of a book. Through all the decades I’ve weathered since I first discovered it, this novel continues to cast a heartening gleam for me, helping me remember it’s essential to be preposterous now and then. When I think back on that time, wondering whatever happened to Scotty and Lisa (and, more importantly, to Scotty’s Hippity Hop), I also think about all the hours I spent curled up with Alice, wrapped up in fantasy and oblivious to the world. That image is a rare, sweet memory in what was an overwhelmingly challenging time. For that I’ll always be grateful to the legacy of Lewis Carroll.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” indeed.
It probably won’t shock a lot of people if I say I was a loner as a child. A huge majority of writers and creative types spent a lot of time alone as children. Hell, a lot of us spend as much time as we can alone as adults. I don’t think that necessarily makes us weirdos or anything. At least I hope not. I can say this, at least I don’t go driving cross-country sporting a diaper and planning to murder anyone with a butcher knife. You can say what you want about us writer types, but I think THAT’S what’s wacko. A little alone time has nothing on that.
Looking back now, I realize I spent the majority of my childhood in or around my house. My mother didn’t drive until I was in junior high, and since she was the one home with me all day that meant I really didn’t go too many places. Luckily for her, that never really bothered me all that much. I was pretty much an aspiring couch potato from the get-go. TV and books were entertainment enough a lot of the time, and when the yen to play struck me I had two friends who lived across the street.
One of my friends was a boy named Scotty. Scotty’s big distinction was he owned a Hippity Hop. I didn’t own a Hippity Hop, but I knew where I could get my hands on one. I think I must have loved Scotty in that “you have really cool toys” kind of way, but at the time that I knew him, I was too young to even know what a crush was. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I had a sort of crush on David Cassidy. And Davy Jones. What the big attraction was to the name David I really don’t know. I think it may have been just coincidence. I have to wonder, if Scotty had been Davy, would I have wound up marrying him, living happily ever after bouncing away on his Hippity Hop? Scotty, if you’re out there, I’m so sorry your name wasn’t Davy. But I’m more sorry about losing that Hippity Hop.Across the street and slightly kitty-corner from me lived my friend Lisa Mayor. Lisa was much cooler than I could ever hope to be. She had long, straight blonde hair and was, I know now, popular. Popularity at that stage of my life didn’t mean much to me. After all, Lisa was a decent enough friend, and she played with me on occasion. She had birthday parties and invited me. She came over to my house, and I went over to hers, with a fair degree of regularity. But what made Lisa really cool was that she once split her head open on her driveway, after falling off her bike. She split her head open and LIVED! That was pretty neat, to a six year old. I can remember my friend Scotty coming to my house soon after it happened. Scotty heard about it first, I guess because he lived on the same side of the street she did so the gossip traveled better. After he came to fetch me, we went over to see if we could find the blood on the driveway. To our dismay, we couldn’t. Lisa had split her head open, lived, and miraculously her blood had disappeared. Until a few years later when a tornado ripped through the block behind Scotty and Lisa’s houses, this was the highlight of our respective childhoods. Well, maybe not as much to Lisa, who had to do the actual suffering so that Scotty and I could reap the benefits.
On days when Scotty was busy showing someone else his toys, and Lisa was with her other friends (or taking aspirin for her throbbing head), I pretty much spent all my spare time reading. Even with friends right across the street (and friends with really neat toys at that), I really did manage to read a lot during those years. Don’t let all the excitement fool you.
Along with all the picture books I read really early on, I also inherited a set of Children’s Classics. These books came down to me through my two older brothers, one of whom was also a rabid reader. As for my other brother, well, he owned a mini-bike. He had a lot of serious exploring to do. He never was much for reading.
The books in this particular set consisted of ten or so abridged, illustrated classics, all in different colored cloth covers. It included books like Treasure Island, Tales of King Arthur and Robin Hood. The only really girlie book in the set was Alice in Wonderland. I went through several of these books with help from my oldest brother, who had the patience to sit down and help me with the really tough words, but Alice in Wonderland was probably the first “chapter” book I sampled on my own. After I graduated from Richard Scarry and his wonderful world of animals who wore pants, it was Alice who transfixed me. She was English, she spoke very formally, and she was adventurous. She was also saucy. The girl didn’t take any crap from anyone, even when that someone was a queen with the power to cut off her head. Alice ruled! She was essentially everything I wanted to be but wasn’t.
The illustrations in Alice also mesmerized me. Most of them were half-page line drawings, but a very few of them were full-color, full-page illustrations. They depicted a skewed, surreal world in which menacing cats grinned down at you from branches, appearing and disappearing randomly. A group of manic animals and a Mad Hatter (obviously, I can see now, high as a kite) held ridiculous tea parties in which they hurled abuse at each other and then just fell asleep, and a grotesque Red Queen blubbered on threateningly. Alice, through it all, kept her head, stood her ground, and was the coolest girl on earth.
Fantastical worlds in which everything is possible and nothing happens as expected allow a child’s mind to soar. It’s hard to imagine any book besides Alice in Wonderland setting the tone for my personality, mostly because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having met her. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that. Lewis Carroll taught me it was okay to be unusual. He taught me it’s okay if things don’t always make sense. Ultimately, he taught me fantasy is a whole hell of a lot more interesting than reality, and weird, twisted people have much more going for them than boring, predictable types. In a way, he taught me how to cope with what was a pretty crappy childhood. He didn’t solve my problems, but the ability to lean on the absurd and surreal went a long way toward making it all a little more bearable.
When I was reading and re-reading Alice in Wonderland I had no idea Lewis Carroll was a creepy weirdo interested in little girls in an inappropriate way. Learning that later made me less comfortable with the book, and that felt like a real loss to me. Knowing Carroll took and was in possession of photos of little girls in various states of undress is upsetting. It’s destabilizing when you find out a major childhood influence was, at best, one step removed from being a pedophile. Still, I believe Alice herself, and her adventurous spirit, are still good models for a life philosophy. I can still grant Carroll that, though I wish like anything the reality of his intentions could have been far different. Being unable to change that, the best I can do is separate Carroll the man from his work as a writer, granting him enough benefit of the doubt to still be able to appreciate the world he created.
Ironically enough, it turns out a pedophile helped ease some of my most difficult early years, and even with the tarnish that’s on it I still consider Alice in Wonderland to be a true gem of a book. Through all the decades I’ve weathered since I first discovered it, this novel continues to cast a heartening gleam for me, helping me remember it’s essential to be preposterous now and then. When I think back on that time, wondering whatever happened to Scotty and Lisa (and, more importantly, to Scotty’s Hippity Hop), I also think about all the hours I spent curled up with Alice, wrapped up in fantasy and oblivious to the world. That image is a rare, sweet memory in what was an overwhelmingly challenging time. For that I’ll always be grateful to the legacy of Lewis Carroll.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” indeed.
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