Beth Kephart's Blog, page 228

How great is Susan Campbell Bartoletti?

I first met Susan in Orlando, FL, last November, on this very (photographed) day.  We were scheduled to speak on an ALAN panel—Susan about her wildly brilliant They Called Themselves the K.K.K, me about the Centennial era that had inspired Dangerous Neighbors (Egmont USA).  My PDF presentation had not, I discovered minutes before I was to take the stage, been imported to the proper conference techno places, and, in the crazy Oh no buzz that followed that fine finding, Susan stepped in.  She fixed the problem.  The crisis was no more.



Susan spoke before I did to the gathered YA crowd.  She was so smart, so funny, so wise that if I had not just been saved by her in the excruciating moments leading up to the panel, I might have been jealous.  No, that's not true.  I'm never jealous when a real talent is in my midst.  I'm just proud, as a human being, that she exists.



Ever since Orlando, Susan and I have been trying to see each other again.  This past Wednesday, as some of you know, I put the corporate pressures aside, threw caution to the wind, and trained down to the University of Pennsylvania.  Susan and I would spend the next several hours walking the campus, sitting in one of my former classrooms, taking charge of an unhappy soda machine, exclaiming over Please Ignore Vera Dietz, and munching through a tossed salad (but not the peaches we had jointly hoped for).  We talked about the things we love.  Truly great writing—"crunchy" she calls sentences she celebrates.  Landscape as story.  Honest and earned research—the kind that digs beneath whatever a Google search can deliver.  Reconstruction America.  The history of Pennsylvania.  Smart, kind editors.  Course design.  Teaching.  Students.  Our children.  Judging book contests (we both chaired a Young People's Literature Jury for the National Book Awards, we discovered.)  We were walking to Susan's car when she mentioned that she had recently been talking with Markus Zusak as part of a PEN American Center PENpal program.  



The Markus Zusak? I asked.  Mr. The Book Thief?



But of course that was the one, for Susan, too, has written of that Nazi Germany in her widely praised (go to her website and find out more for yourself) Hitler Youth. 



I have so many things I want to ask Susan.  So much I can learn from her.  But for now I am and always will be grateful for our day together.  For locating, in this turbulent, unstable world of ours, such a fully engaged, deeply seeking mind.

Please Ignore Vera Dietz/A.S. King: Reflections

Here I am, reading Please Ignore Vera Dietz while sitting on a bench at the University of Pennsylvania campus waiting to meet with a friend.  This was just after I could be seen on the incoming train, clutching the iPad2-enabled book to my chest.  Which is just after I tore myself from the couch, where I could found getting even more fat while touching my eager fingertip to the gadget's glass in breathless admiration of A.S. King's poignantly odd, big-hearted, exceedingly jazzily written prose.  Which is the morning after the late evening when I downloaded the book in the first place, having been incapable of finishing the last five books I'd started (despair had set in; it had deepened).  I fell asleep with my iPad2 beside me.  I woke up in the dark, tiptoed it downstairs, and, well, you know the rest.



You're getting this, right?  Please Ignore Vera Dietz, a YA novel with decidedly adult content and thoroughly inimitable flare reawakened the reader in one Beth Kephart.  You can go to A.S. King's own website to find out about the book's many honors (Printz nominee, anyone?). You can read a description anywhere (though no two descriptions will sound alike, because there's a heck of a lot going on in this book about a pizza delivery technician and her parsimonious dad and her best friend, Charlie, who is dead on the first page of the book, but dead best friends do tend to linger, oh, and animals are involved, and Piggy of Lord of the Flies, and also a bunch of moral questions in a not entirely moral world, and did I mention that a Pagoda speaks?).



All I want to say is that it is darned fine thing to find a writer writing.  Not a writer telling a story, mind you, but a writer writing one.  Dealing so brilliantly with the whole flashback thing, while drawing a story forward.  Building real characters—messy, swearing, striving, searching, self-disappointed, self healing. Unafraid of big words, crafty with the small ones. 



I'm going to give you a taste of the action:

Charlie and I still shared a seat on the bus. We'd press our earbuds into our ears and read or daydream or, in Charlie's case, occasionally scribble things on tissues and napkins and then eat them.  On weekends, we'd see each other sometimes, but Charlie was busy between hunting trips with his father and dates. Girls swarmed him that year, impressed by his windswept attitude, his over-the-eyes haircut, and his Goodwill dress sense.  By the time summer came, I think he'd had about four different girlfriends, but he kept them totally secret, and if I asked, he would deny it, as if having girlfriends wasn't cool.

All right, and I just have to share this line, from near the end of the book, when Vera, our un-ignorable heroine says this:  "I love Vocab. It's like spelunking in a cave you've been in your whole life and discovering a thousand new tunnels."



Come on.  You love that, right? 



There's hard stuff in this book.  These kids don't have it easy.  Some seamy bad people press in.  But Vera Dietz, so perfectly imperfect, learns what it means to stand up to it all.  And I cried a few tears at the end.

My Friend Amy reflects on YOU ARE MY ONLY

When one of the most beloved and creative book readers and bloggers around takes the time to read your work, you are grateful. I most certainly and eternally am. Thank you, Amy.

In YOU ARE MY ONLY, Beth Kephart tells the story of a young girl ripped from the life meant for her as a child and raised in captivity with honesty, fairness, tenderness, and most of all hope. It's a story of unusual circumstances with universal application—no matter how dark and difficult life may seem, the hope for something more is always within reach. Breathtaking in its beauty and with great heart, YOU ARE MY ONLY brings readers the story of a kidnapped young girl that they will never want to forget.

Amy Riley, My Friend Amy

Bring it on: musings of a slow adopter

I am what the savvy might term a slow adopter. I tend to like things as they are.  My movies on the big screen.  My books between their covers.  My conversations in person, face to face.



That is not this world.



And if I am less than knowledgeable about Facebook (I am, perhaps, one of its least organized and aware members), have failed to take on Twitter, am not inclined toward Google +, only just yesterday did justice to my LinkedIn profile (how shabby my former presence was), and make more mistakes in typing Blackberry texts than any living writer, I am coming around to the way the world works.



I have an iPad 2 and I use it to read the New York Times (except the Times magazine, which I still prefer to hold), to catch up with the Inquirer, to read the occasional Kindle or iBook.  (The New Yorker and Food and Wine and Vanity Fair still come, old style, to my house.)  My email friends are legion.  I'm an old-time blogger (holding my ground here, refusing to vanish).  And lately I've been thinking about (not dreading, but embracing) the new ways in which the publishing industry works.  Why not an Amazon single, for example, if the audience is already primed for it?  And why not a book with multi-media illustrations—something web friendly, something e-alive?



It's the middle of August.  The days have been long.  I prefer autumn to summer.  I look toward the new season with hope for my October 25 release, You Are My Only, with eagerness to connect with some of you at a variety of talks, and with the high suspicion that I'm about to change the way I go about making of (some) books.  

Wave Riders and Book Writers

We commit to writing a book, we commit to riding a wave.  The long, slow stroke toward the center of the sea, the struggle to board and gain balance, the turbulent chase toward the shore, the break down, the swim back, the interminable wait for a wave (the right wave) to lift us up again.  



"You know how hard this is?" I asked somebody, this weekend.



But he looked at me as if all I was actually doing was sitting in a nice, clean room, with a bright light on, a ripe peach in one hand as I worked.  The gentle splish of the rain beyond.



We all have our own ways of seeing.

Crossroads School for Arts and Sciences and The Heart Is Not a Size

I admit, I've had one of those what-am-I-doing-with-my-life? days.



So when my friend Anna Lefler sent me this photograph just now from all the way across the country with the words, "It was just like this at B&N—I didn't touch the display," I decided (a nano-second) that I would put the picture on my blog.



I had no idea that THE HEART IS NOT A SIZE is a summer reading choice in sunny California.  But I am glad and very grateful to know now that it is.

Zenobia: The Curious Book of Business

This morning I'm returning to a book I wrote with Matthew Emmens, a long-time friend and much-loved executive who was the CEO of Shire Plc when we launched this project and is now the CEO of Vertex Pharmaceuticals (and chair of Shire).  We called the book Zenobia: The Curious Book of Business, and we sub-titled it A Tale of Triumph over Yes-Men, Cynics, Hedgers, and other Corporate Killjoys (Berrett-Koehler Publishers).  We asked William Sulit to illustrate it.  We were delighted when the book was translated into Portuguese (Brazil), Portuguese (Portugal), Chinese Complex, Chinese Simplified, Dutch, Arabic, Korean, Spanish, and Italian, and created as an English Reprint in India.



We continue to hear from readers of Zenobia—continue to be told stories about real-live corporate misadventures that might have been used as grist for this book (enough so that I sometimes fantasize about writing a Volume 2).  The other day I happened upon this Zenobia review, and because the reviewer—an unnamed reader for Soundview Executive Book Summaries—so thoroughly understood our purpose, I share it in total here. 

down the corporate rabbit hole

Teaming a CEO with a poet to collaborate on a business book might sound like an "Alice in Wonderland" proposition. But the result, Zenobia: The Curious Book of Business by Matthew Emmens, CEO of the $14 billion Shire Pharmaceuticals, and award-winning poet and author Beth Kephart, is a business fable that is as inspiring as it is curious.

Zenobia is the tale of job applicant Moira. Bored with her current position, she decides to answer an intriguing want ad. The ad brings Moira to Zenobia, a once-mighty company, now fallen into neglect and disrepair and bogged down in its way of doing business. To fulfill her mission, Moira must find Room 133A by 9 a.m. –– not an easy task, considering Zenobia's current state: "There was, to begin, no apparent way up. The doors of the elevators had been sealed long ago. The stairs zinged this way and that, crossed over and through, circled back and endlessly in."

Zenobians

Moira's quest to find Room 133A brings her into contact with the denizens of Zenobia. Along the way, Moira meets several archetypical characters representing the worst of those who populate the business world. To reach her destination, Moira must not only navigate the confusing structure that represents the company itself, but also contend with such employees as Hedger, a man who avoids giving a straight answer at any cost; Trenchy, a woman so confined to her own tasks that she has no idea what her colleagues are doing; and Stomper, a cynical killjoy who would like nothing more than to see Moira fail.

Lighting the Way

In each of the book's 13 chapters, the authors detail another step on Moira's journey. Each step illustrates a basic principle for success, such as "Conceive a Plan; Pursue It," "Prepare for Ridicule" and "Seek the Unlikely Alliance." As the book progresses, we see Moira succeed because she refuses to be dragged down by the negative aspects of Zenobia. She forges ahead, relying on her talent, intelligence and courage to identify opportunities and solutions to find Room 133A.

But this story is not just Moira's. As the heroine fights her way through the quagmire that surrounds her, the authors show how her actions inspire many of the Zenobians to not only follow her, but to begin forging their own ways ahead to success: "What she saw just then was even far more dazzling than the lambent atmosphere. For at the end of the kite tail, on the rungs of the ladder, in the spaces between things, against the warp of the wood, she saw a rising stream of Zenobians … They were making the journey for and with one another, showing each other the way."

A Deceptively Simple Tale

Zenobia is an engrossing read that provides readers with honest enjoyment. The concepts it presents are often astonishing in their simplicity. Logically, we all understand that in order to succeed we must first have a plan and then be prepared to follow it. Most of us can expound on the virtue of being a good listener. However, the authors reveal the importance of these concepts not as declamations from business gurus but rather as lessons from an engaging heroine on a unique journey.



Zenobia is a book for anyone who has lost his or her way in the business world, who feels stalled or who just needs a little inspiration. Moira's story is a reminder of what can be achieved in business and in life when we aren't afraid to take risks and show some courage.

For those of you feeling stalled or in need of inspiration (or psychic companionship), Zenobia can be ordered here. 

Where I'll Be: Some Upcoming Appearances

I've met some pretty fine people during this life journey of mine, and over the next few months I'll be spending more time with some of them.  Here's a list of where I'll soon be, should you have the chance to join us.



Tuesday, September 20, 7 PM - 9 PM

Literally Speaking Author House Party, Elkins Park, PA

Mother/Daughter Night with Elizabeth Mosier 

Dangerous Neighbors and Flow

(details here)



Friday, September 23, afternoonCountry Day School, Bryn Mawr, PA

Dangerous Neighbors/Reading and Discussion

(closed to students and faculty)



Wednesday, October 26, 4 PM - 6 PMRutgers-Camden Visiting Writers Series

Young Adult Lit: It's Not Just Kids' Stuff Anymore

(details here)



Thursday, October 27, 7 PMYou Are My Only/Book Launch Party

Radnor Memorial Library, Radnor, PA

(details to come)



Monday, November 7, 6:30 PM

You Are My Only/Lecture and Reading

Haub Executive Center, St. Joseph's University

(details here)



My thanks to Lynn Rosen, Elizabeth Mosier, Kerri Schuster, Lisa Zeidner, Pam Sedor, and Ann Green, who reached out and made these events possible.

Too Much Teen Paranormal Romance

Well, here I am, fighting for every blooming second alone to write my Dangerous Neighbors (Egmont USA) prequel—a book featuring brothers and two boy best friends, a murder and its avenging, a stint in a terrible prison, the rescue of animals—and here this wise and lovely soul sits, in a room somewhere, talking about why we don't have more teen boy readers, and why we need them, and what we (as a society and publishing community) can do about it.



I have three corporate projects I have to finish today so that I can turn (secretly, feverishly) to the 20,000th word of my work in progress.



I'm letting this young woman speak for me.

Live, Not Exist: The Diana Nyad Story

"Think good positive thoughts for our friend Diana Nyad," my friend and agent Amy Rennert wrote, on Monday night.  "She's twelve hours into her historical swim from Havana to Key West.  About 48 hours to go."



Diana Nyad, I thought.  Diana Nyad?  (And then, the next thought:  48 hours to go?)  Just hours before I'd been reading the CNN story about this intrepid swimmer who was encouraging us all to look at right now as the most essential chapter of our lives.  "I'm almost 62 years old and I'm standing here at the prime of my life," she was quoted as saying.  "I think this is the prime.  When one reaches this age, you still have a body that's strong but now you have a better mind."



"How do you know Diana?" I emailed back, and soon Amy was explaining a friendship that has lasted some 30 years—its origins winding back to a super female athletes story Amy had long ago covered for Women's Sports magazine.  Diana Nyad, Amy said, was the greatest long-distance swimmer in the world.  She'd completed the 102.5 mile journey from Bimini to Florida years ago.  She'd once before attempted, in what proved to be tempestuous waters, the 100 miles from Cuba to Florida.  She'd circled Manhattan Island in world record time.  She was a Hall of Famer and (again) she was nearly 62 years old and now twelve hours into another historic swim.



Amy, meanwhile, was on a plane.  So were some two dozen other Diana Nyad fans, coming in from all across the country to cheer their heroine on.  "Just landed," Amy wrote to me, the next morning, 4:57 AM.



By the time Amy reached Diana, the history-making athlete had had to abandon her swim.  The water wasn't right.  A shoulder was nagging.  Amy sent me the news, but then she sent more word of the many faithful friends who were there when Diana's boat brought her in. 



Sometimes you don't quite get to where you'd wanted to go.  But let me ask you this:  Doesn't the heroism lie in the trying?  In getting back into that water after so many years, in re-doing the math on prime?  This post, then, is a celebration of Diana, photographed in the first shot by Christi Barli.  It's a celebration, too, of Amy Rennert (pictured in the second shot), who is always there for her friends.