Beth Kephart's Blog, page 353

Reading at Chanticleer

It was all patterns—the leopard chair, the stained-glass shirt, the spackle of foilage, the foilage of shadows, the bark peeling away from the meat of the tree.

In its dazzle she found calm.

Steady Now

I found myself incapable today—dropping things, losing things, driving the wrong way in a parking lot where the arrows seemed, uniformly and inexplicably, to be pointed the wrong way.

I found no lift for the tango, no energy for the book I'm reading, no time to think, and I know the organic chicken is too expensive, but honestly, I wish I had bought it for the meal tonight. It would have made the day's end so much better.

Today I could have used an older brother's steadying arm.

Upcoming Live Chat with Liz Rosenberg

Liz Rosenberg has done it all—written for The New Yorker, The New York Times, Atlantic, and Paris Review; imagined (and published) spectacular stories for young readers; executed flawless poems; been the subject of film documentaries; and taught for years at Binghamton.

This year she also published her first novel for adults, Home Repair, which I read on Christmas day and fell head over heels for. Tomorrow night, Wednesday July 8 at 7 PM EST, Liz will be the guest on Book Club Girl on Air. You

Ruined

I first became aware of the power of that one word ruin when reading the poetry of Gerald Stern. It seems the very opposite of beauty, and yet how close the two words are often found on a page—how near and next of kin are beauty and ruin. Yesterday, reading Colum McCann on the train, there was that word again, often. When Michael Ondaatje speaks the word it is all shush and reverence.

"When we contemplate ruins, we contemplate our own future," Christopher Woodward wrote in In Ruins.

Is that how

The Bookslut Review of Nothing but GHosts

Sometimes, after a long walking day in the city, words float in toward you, and you catch your breath.

That just happened, with the Bookslut review of Nothing but Ghosts. I post here a small excerpt from Colleen Mondor's most generous review.

Kephart's incredibly elegant writing style is what really stands out. Her use of language is startling at times and it cuts right through all the clichés that burden so many novels for teens. Here is Katie remembering a final vacation with her parents: "Hist

One Thing Leading to Another

Every now and then (wait: that would be more than every now and then) I get myself into literary trouble. This holiday weekend I did it again. In the early hours of each day I was at work on this wild mash of an adult novel—a scene involving, among other things, a mind in the midst of repair. In the afternoons I was reviewing the final edits for the YA novel set in Juarez, The Heart is Not a Size. At one point I was answering questions about Nothing but Ghosts, and always, always, I was figh

Honor the Storyteller's Verbs

When I taught the young writers at Chanticleer, when I have taught, indeed, anywhere, I have shared, as the hours and days go by, my own idea about what makes for authentic storytelling. This morning I stumbled across two columns of teachable verbs—words I'd compiled in advance of a morning class. The first, I think, makes for screech and demand. The second makes for story.

Explain/Illuminate
Record/Remember
Argue/Explore
Retaliate/Evolve
Condemn/Liberate
Accuse/Understand
Obliterate/Rescue
Attack/Ap

Alongside Sarah Dessen's Along for the Ride

In the August issue of Family Circle magazine, Nothing but Ghosts joins Jude Watson's The 39 Clues: Beyond the Grave and Sarah Dessen's Along for the Ride as Kid Lit Cool Picks for Hot Days.

I am beyond grateful.

Remembering my Mother

... In the weeks since my mother's passing, I have been pondering the many measures of a life—that which dissipates, that which remains. I have been looking up, studying the skies. I have been watching the greening of the stalk of curly willow that sits in a vase in my most sun-filled room. I have considered spring's rumbling things, impatient, even in winter, to rise. I have been blessed—immeasurably blessed—by the outreach and wisdom of souls like you, and I have made my decision: Beauty

Independence Day

Sit by a breeze, if you can.

Live the day.