Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 53
October 9, 2013
Stories from Jonestown
I finished reading Leigh Fondakowski's Stories from Jonestown a few weeks ago, but it has stuck with me.
I was a child when the mass deaths occurred, and I understood little of the story at the time, but I will never forget the images that appeared on the news: hundreds and hundreds of bodies lying in the jungle. Nor can I forget the stories about the poisoned fruit-flavored drink that killed most of them (which Fondakowski reminds us was not Kool-Aid, but Flavor-Aid, although the phrase "they drank the Kool-Aid" has been part of our language ever since).
It did not occur to me until I was an adult to wonder: who were the people who tried to build a paradise in Guyana? What did they see in leader Jim Jones? What could push them to assassinate a Congressman and then kill their children, their elderly, and themselves in a mass ritual? What were they seeking?
Jonestown was only a part of the Peoples Temple movement started by Jim Jones. Fondakowski was able to interview many of its former members who were not in Jonestown that day, as well as some of the handful who survived Jonestown. The result was a stage production along the lines of The Laramie Project (which Fondakowski also worked on) and this book.
Fondakowski enables the interviewees to tell their own stories in their own words, and the result is a book that tells of heart-breaking hope and faith, and unimaginable loss. For most of them, Peoples Temple began in a search for social justice. It was about music and love and equality. It was a place where people of different races came together on equal terms and worked for a better world. Somewhere along the way, the dream turned into a nightmare. For many of them, that did not happen until the very end, and they still cherish the memories of the work they did together and the people they befriended. For others, the nightmare began earlier; they were alienated much sooner by the increasing rigidity of the society and the increasingly erratic behavior of Jones.
Fondakowski wisely refrains from trying to impose an authoritative conclusion or definitive interpretation on the story of Peoples Temple and Jonestown. Rather, she lets its survivors speak and acknowledges that the record is, and will always be, incomplete.
One interesting thing she says is that the popular expression "they drank the Kool-Aid" makes her cringe, since she now understands like never before how deep a tragedy it refers to, what a monumental loss that overused idiom represents. She thinks that if more people delved into the story of Jonestown, they would not use the expression so casually.
For me, this was a haunting book, but one that I'm glad I read. Because the tragedy of Jonestown was real, a reminder that people's grandest plans sometimes take very wrong turns.
source of recommended read: library
I was a child when the mass deaths occurred, and I understood little of the story at the time, but I will never forget the images that appeared on the news: hundreds and hundreds of bodies lying in the jungle. Nor can I forget the stories about the poisoned fruit-flavored drink that killed most of them (which Fondakowski reminds us was not Kool-Aid, but Flavor-Aid, although the phrase "they drank the Kool-Aid" has been part of our language ever since).
It did not occur to me until I was an adult to wonder: who were the people who tried to build a paradise in Guyana? What did they see in leader Jim Jones? What could push them to assassinate a Congressman and then kill their children, their elderly, and themselves in a mass ritual? What were they seeking?
Jonestown was only a part of the Peoples Temple movement started by Jim Jones. Fondakowski was able to interview many of its former members who were not in Jonestown that day, as well as some of the handful who survived Jonestown. The result was a stage production along the lines of The Laramie Project (which Fondakowski also worked on) and this book.
Fondakowski enables the interviewees to tell their own stories in their own words, and the result is a book that tells of heart-breaking hope and faith, and unimaginable loss. For most of them, Peoples Temple began in a search for social justice. It was about music and love and equality. It was a place where people of different races came together on equal terms and worked for a better world. Somewhere along the way, the dream turned into a nightmare. For many of them, that did not happen until the very end, and they still cherish the memories of the work they did together and the people they befriended. For others, the nightmare began earlier; they were alienated much sooner by the increasing rigidity of the society and the increasingly erratic behavior of Jones.
Fondakowski wisely refrains from trying to impose an authoritative conclusion or definitive interpretation on the story of Peoples Temple and Jonestown. Rather, she lets its survivors speak and acknowledges that the record is, and will always be, incomplete.
One interesting thing she says is that the popular expression "they drank the Kool-Aid" makes her cringe, since she now understands like never before how deep a tragedy it refers to, what a monumental loss that overused idiom represents. She thinks that if more people delved into the story of Jonestown, they would not use the expression so casually.
For me, this was a haunting book, but one that I'm glad I read. Because the tragedy of Jonestown was real, a reminder that people's grandest plans sometimes take very wrong turns.
source of recommended read: library
October 7, 2013
Going All In: Guest Post by Jody Casella
This is my latest guest post on the topic of fear, in which Jody Casella talks about challenging our fears.
Several years ago I hit a writing wall. I'd been working seriously for years, but I couldn't break through. Editors expressed interest in my books then told me in a variety of ways: No.
A turning point came when I attended a Highlights Children's Writers workshop. I showed up, I'm ashamed to say, reluctantly, almost arrogantly. I remember thinking, "What can these people tell me that I don't already know?"
The first day I met with my assigned mentor to go over a manuscript that I thought was finished and perfect. She pointed out a few things I might want to try. She was kind, not critical in the least. But the conversation almost destroyed me.
My arrogance disappeared. In its place was fear. Fear that my writing wasn't good. Fear that I had no idea how to make it better.
The rest of the week I became a sponge for information, attending every session, taking notes, asking questions. One of the speakers, editor Patricia Lee Gauch, discussed why so many manuscripts went wrong. Climaxes would happen off stage. Essential scenes were skimmed over.
It was almost as if the writer pulled back right at the moment when she should've "gone all in."
A light bulb went off in my head. I had been doing exactly this. Holding back just as the story took off in a direction I hadn't planned. Glossing over moments that hit an emotional nerve. I wasn't going all in with my stories.
I wasn't going all in as a writer either. Holding back was a way to protect myself. Because, what if I tried my hardest and I still failed?
But if I didn't give it my all, could I ever succeed?
After the workshop, I started writing a book called Thin Space. The usual fears and doubts plagued me. What if it wasn't good? What if no one ever wanted to read it? And what the heck WAS it anyway? I thought, as the story turned into something kind of weird and horrifying.
I kept writing anyway. I let the story go where it wanted. I threw everything I had into following it to its conclusion. It was the most exhilarating experience of my life and I decided that even if it never made it into print, it was a book I was proud to have written.
Thin Space, Beyond Words/Simon & Schuster, Sept. 2013 "There’s a fine line between the living and the dead, and Marsh is determined to cross it in this gut-wrenching debut novel."
Jody Casella lives with her husband and two children in Ohio.
Several years ago I hit a writing wall. I'd been working seriously for years, but I couldn't break through. Editors expressed interest in my books then told me in a variety of ways: No.
A turning point came when I attended a Highlights Children's Writers workshop. I showed up, I'm ashamed to say, reluctantly, almost arrogantly. I remember thinking, "What can these people tell me that I don't already know?"
The first day I met with my assigned mentor to go over a manuscript that I thought was finished and perfect. She pointed out a few things I might want to try. She was kind, not critical in the least. But the conversation almost destroyed me.
My arrogance disappeared. In its place was fear. Fear that my writing wasn't good. Fear that I had no idea how to make it better.
The rest of the week I became a sponge for information, attending every session, taking notes, asking questions. One of the speakers, editor Patricia Lee Gauch, discussed why so many manuscripts went wrong. Climaxes would happen off stage. Essential scenes were skimmed over.
It was almost as if the writer pulled back right at the moment when she should've "gone all in."
A light bulb went off in my head. I had been doing exactly this. Holding back just as the story took off in a direction I hadn't planned. Glossing over moments that hit an emotional nerve. I wasn't going all in with my stories.
I wasn't going all in as a writer either. Holding back was a way to protect myself. Because, what if I tried my hardest and I still failed?
But if I didn't give it my all, could I ever succeed?
After the workshop, I started writing a book called Thin Space. The usual fears and doubts plagued me. What if it wasn't good? What if no one ever wanted to read it? And what the heck WAS it anyway? I thought, as the story turned into something kind of weird and horrifying.
I kept writing anyway. I let the story go where it wanted. I threw everything I had into following it to its conclusion. It was the most exhilarating experience of my life and I decided that even if it never made it into print, it was a book I was proud to have written.
Thin Space, Beyond Words/Simon & Schuster, Sept. 2013 "There’s a fine line between the living and the dead, and Marsh is determined to cross it in this gut-wrenching debut novel."
Jody Casella lives with her husband and two children in Ohio.
October 6, 2013
The Artful Dodger rides again?
One strength of Charles Dickens was the depth of his secondary characters. In fact, they sometimes threatened to steal the show from the main character. This was especially true of Oliver Twist, a book from which the title character virtually disappears in the later pages, ceding the stage to his supporting cast.
One of Twist's memorable secondary characters is the Artful Dodger, who showed an amazing amount of street savvy for his age. When I read this news story, I couldn't help thinking, "Sounds like something the Dodger would pull off, if he were real and living in the 21st Century."
(This is how you can tell I'm a reader; everything reminds me of a story.)
One of Twist's memorable secondary characters is the Artful Dodger, who showed an amazing amount of street savvy for his age. When I read this news story, I couldn't help thinking, "Sounds like something the Dodger would pull off, if he were real and living in the 21st Century."
(This is how you can tell I'm a reader; everything reminds me of a story.)
October 4, 2013
Go Ask Alice, and "real" teen voices
Go Ask Alice is a YA book that was widely read when I was growing up, and perhaps still is. My copy lists the author as "Anonymous" and says, on the cover, "Autobiography" and "A Real Diary." The introduction says, "Go Ask Alice is based on the actual diary of a fifteen-year-old drug user ..." and the epilogue tells us (spoiler alert!) that the diarist died of an overdose while her parents were out at movie. (A rather specific description of a person's fate.)
The above factors all led me to believe at the time--and not unreasonably, I think--that this was the actual diary of an actual person. Especially when I noticed that although no years are given as part of the diary's dates, the days of the week on which these dates occurred corresponded exactly to the years 1968-1970 (the book was originally published in 1971). To me, that gave it an extra touch of authenticity. The only clues that this was perhaps not a real story appear in two places in my copy of the book: the cataloguing information in the front of the book (which, hey, who doesn't read that, right?) lists this as "Fiction" (although I recently found an older copy of the book in which the "Fiction" label does not appear). And a close reading of the introduction makes one notice the "based on" language. What does it mean to be "based on" a real diary? How loosely based was this?
Snopes.com has a discussion of this book's hazy provenance and how we know it is really fiction. (See also this NY Times Online article by Mark Oppenheimer, and the Wikipedia entry for Beatrice Sparks, author of Go Ask Alice.) There is, however, one point in the Snopes piece on which I disagree: "Girls of that age do not write the way the journal entries of Go Ask Alice are penned ..." This statement is followed by a criticism of the use of polysyllabic words, and the amount of space the alleged diarist gave to the topics about which she wrote.
I have to say that teenagers are perfectly capable of writing the way the narrator of Go Ask Alice writes. Teenagers--especially those who read a lot, and who like to write--have vocabularies that rival those of adults. (After all, high schoolers are preparing for SATs and college entrance, and they're regularly reading textbooks and literary classics for school.) I myself tended to use longer words and a more expansive vocabulary when I was writing--especially when I was writing for myself--than I did in casual conversation. The personality shifts in narration in Go Ask Alice could be the result of multiple authors and jagged editing ... or true adolescent experimentation. When I was growing up, I remember trying on different voices, different handwritings, different nicknames, different attitudes and interests. So did my friends.
What appealed to me about Go Ask Alice was not only the gripping, slow-motion horror of the main character's descent into addiction (as unrealistic as I may find some of it now), but the emotional quality of her voice. The narrator's ups and downs reflect my own adolescent diaries: one day, everything was wonderful; the right guy smiled at me; I aced a test; whatever. A week later: devastation. Fights with parents, being ignored by a crush, or clashing with a teacher could inspire the most introspective and despairing of entries. If Go Ask Alice is fiction--and I have believed for a while now that it is--it is nonetheless fiction that did exactly what I needed it to at the time I read it. When I was a teenager, I never questioned the authenticity of the book's voice. And judging by this book's phenomenal sales, neither did many other people.
I will leave to others a discussion of whether the book should be read now, why it was presented as nonfiction, and many other interesting issues that could arise. The only point I want to make today is that we can't assume teenagers don't use big words or have deep thoughts, or that they only write about certain subjects. Adult expectations of what teens are "supposed" to sound like do not constitute evidence either way.
The above factors all led me to believe at the time--and not unreasonably, I think--that this was the actual diary of an actual person. Especially when I noticed that although no years are given as part of the diary's dates, the days of the week on which these dates occurred corresponded exactly to the years 1968-1970 (the book was originally published in 1971). To me, that gave it an extra touch of authenticity. The only clues that this was perhaps not a real story appear in two places in my copy of the book: the cataloguing information in the front of the book (which, hey, who doesn't read that, right?) lists this as "Fiction" (although I recently found an older copy of the book in which the "Fiction" label does not appear). And a close reading of the introduction makes one notice the "based on" language. What does it mean to be "based on" a real diary? How loosely based was this?
Snopes.com has a discussion of this book's hazy provenance and how we know it is really fiction. (See also this NY Times Online article by Mark Oppenheimer, and the Wikipedia entry for Beatrice Sparks, author of Go Ask Alice.) There is, however, one point in the Snopes piece on which I disagree: "Girls of that age do not write the way the journal entries of Go Ask Alice are penned ..." This statement is followed by a criticism of the use of polysyllabic words, and the amount of space the alleged diarist gave to the topics about which she wrote.
I have to say that teenagers are perfectly capable of writing the way the narrator of Go Ask Alice writes. Teenagers--especially those who read a lot, and who like to write--have vocabularies that rival those of adults. (After all, high schoolers are preparing for SATs and college entrance, and they're regularly reading textbooks and literary classics for school.) I myself tended to use longer words and a more expansive vocabulary when I was writing--especially when I was writing for myself--than I did in casual conversation. The personality shifts in narration in Go Ask Alice could be the result of multiple authors and jagged editing ... or true adolescent experimentation. When I was growing up, I remember trying on different voices, different handwritings, different nicknames, different attitudes and interests. So did my friends.
What appealed to me about Go Ask Alice was not only the gripping, slow-motion horror of the main character's descent into addiction (as unrealistic as I may find some of it now), but the emotional quality of her voice. The narrator's ups and downs reflect my own adolescent diaries: one day, everything was wonderful; the right guy smiled at me; I aced a test; whatever. A week later: devastation. Fights with parents, being ignored by a crush, or clashing with a teacher could inspire the most introspective and despairing of entries. If Go Ask Alice is fiction--and I have believed for a while now that it is--it is nonetheless fiction that did exactly what I needed it to at the time I read it. When I was a teenager, I never questioned the authenticity of the book's voice. And judging by this book's phenomenal sales, neither did many other people.
I will leave to others a discussion of whether the book should be read now, why it was presented as nonfiction, and many other interesting issues that could arise. The only point I want to make today is that we can't assume teenagers don't use big words or have deep thoughts, or that they only write about certain subjects. Adult expectations of what teens are "supposed" to sound like do not constitute evidence either way.
October 1, 2013
Invitation to a NY event
An invitation to anyone in or near NYC on Wednesday:
October 2 -- Teen Author Reading Night (6-7:30, Jefferson Market Branch of NYPL, corner of 6th Ave and 10th St). Part of a series developed by David Levithan; this installment hosted by Barry Lyga. The lineup:
Kate Brian, Hereafter
Zoraida Cordova, The Savage Blue
Jocelyn Davies, A Radiant Sky
Sarah Beth Durst, Conjured
Jennifer R. Hubbard, Until It Hurts To Stop
Kass Morgan, The100
Emil Ostrovski, The Paradox of Vertical Flight
Allyson Schrier, How (Not) to Find a Boyfriend
Jon Skovron, Man Made Boy
October 2 -- Teen Author Reading Night (6-7:30, Jefferson Market Branch of NYPL, corner of 6th Ave and 10th St). Part of a series developed by David Levithan; this installment hosted by Barry Lyga. The lineup:
Kate Brian, Hereafter
Zoraida Cordova, The Savage Blue
Jocelyn Davies, A Radiant Sky
Sarah Beth Durst, Conjured
Jennifer R. Hubbard, Until It Hurts To Stop
Kass Morgan, The100
Emil Ostrovski, The Paradox of Vertical Flight
Allyson Schrier, How (Not) to Find a Boyfriend
Jon Skovron, Man Made Boy
September 30, 2013
On art, fun, and pretensions
Steve Brezenoff is my latest source of blog inspiration, with this post that is, on the surface, about Dizzy Gillespie, but covers rather more territory than that. Brezenoff talks about the difference between the art we actually like and the art we say we like (which may be the art we think we should like, the art we wish we liked, the art we want others to think of us as liking ...). I think it's good to push ourselves out of our comfort zones and search for the quality in what other people admire. But I also agree that we can't force enthusiasm for what just doesn't light us up. And eventually we stop pretending to like what we "should" and admit where our true affinities lie. Eventually we realize that we're not impressing anyone, and we don't care anymore whether we are or not. Life's too short to waste on pretensions.
Of Gillespie, Brezenoff writes, "Dizzy's compositions are inherently good natured and fun. Dizzy also played in the highest register of the instrument to a point that often seems a little absurd, setting off tiny musical fireworks. I love that."
Reminding me that it's good to ask myself not only, "Is this art?" but also, "Am I having any fun?"
Of Gillespie, Brezenoff writes, "Dizzy's compositions are inherently good natured and fun. Dizzy also played in the highest register of the instrument to a point that often seems a little absurd, setting off tiny musical fireworks. I love that."
Reminding me that it's good to ask myself not only, "Is this art?" but also, "Am I having any fun?"
September 27, 2013
Yeah, I'm still talking about taking breaks
Today was my turn at YA Outside the Lines, where I posted about taking breaks. A sample: "It finally hit me that there is ALWAYS something else to do. I will never run out of things to do. I will never get to the bottom of every list." Also included: a weirdly cute cat picture!
September 25, 2013
Denouements: pacing the ending
I have always loved denouements, the sort of settling-down-and-wrapping-up phase that often (though not always) follows the climax of a story. I need that time, that space, to process what has just happened. I want to stay with the characters a little longer. A denouement is like that moment of silence following the end of a symphony when the echoes of the last note are still dying down, and the audience is not yet ready to break the spell with applause.
Janni Simner does a magnificent job of discussing the value of denouements. A sample: "No one wants a book to drag on too long, but it’s just as dangerous for a book to end too soon ..."
Janni Simner does a magnificent job of discussing the value of denouements. A sample: "No one wants a book to drag on too long, but it’s just as dangerous for a book to end too soon ..."
September 23, 2013
The benefits of stepping back
One of the benefits of vacation is something that goes beyond just getting refreshed and rested and ready to plunge back into the fray. It's the ability to step all the way out of the fray, far enough to ask: Do I really want to be doing all that?
In the midst of a busy life, it's easy to get caught up in the lists and chores and commitments. Everything seems important.
But when I step back, I can see my life from a distance, on a whole different scale. I stop taking every task as a given, and question which of these things I want to continue doing.
I have no sudden changes in direction to announce. But I'm thinking.
In the midst of a busy life, it's easy to get caught up in the lists and chores and commitments. Everything seems important.
But when I step back, I can see my life from a distance, on a whole different scale. I stop taking every task as a given, and question which of these things I want to continue doing.
I have no sudden changes in direction to announce. But I'm thinking.
September 13, 2013
Breaktime
As I do a couple of times a year, I'll be unplugging from the internet for a week. Although I'll miss my online friends, it's always nourishing to take these breaks, to engage solely with the three-dimensional world.
I wish you good news, good books, and good health. And because I always like to leave you with a pretty picture:
Cassidy Arch, Capitol Reef, UT
See you in about a week!
I wish you good news, good books, and good health. And because I always like to leave you with a pretty picture:
Cassidy Arch, Capitol Reef, UTSee you in about a week!
