Randy Susan Meyers's Blog, page 57
March 22, 2010
Sexy Responsible Heart-Throbbing Heroes in Books
Could it be possible that our lust for the bad boys—a hunger which begets dreams that bear nightmares—begins the night we aim our reading flashlights on Rhett Butler and his ilk? Face it—who took away our breath? Who were we trained to want? Namby-pamby Ashley or the dashing Rhett?
How about the other side? The sexy good men (and aren’t the truly good and responsible ones men, not boys?) who step up for justice, or catch a killer, or save the town, without trampling on women’s hearts or bending the rules with a smirk on their faces—how many of them do we worship?
Okay, I too am susceptible to these mythical men who are capable of saving towns and a damsel or two, but fall apart faced with love and fatherhood (I’m talking to you, Woodrow Call of Lonesome Dove.) But the older I get the more I appreciate, am fascinated by, and want to turn the pages to read about, complicated sexy responsible heroes:
Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee: Atticus sits on the mountaintop of this particular category. He takes care of his motherless children. He fights injustice. He takes on an entire town to face down racism. He’s wise, he’s caring, and we all want to marry him.
Amir from The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini: Amir grows from privileged child who both loves and uses his childhood friend—the child of a family servant—to a man who risks his life for this man and the man’s child. He loves and respects his wife. He is brave through his fright; he is a responsible man to admire.
Reuben from The Book of Reuben by Tabitha King: Reuben struggles—he is an imperfect man, but he is a character who grows and moves outside his comfort zone in his journey to find happiness, authenticity, and moral grounding.
Ben from Before and After by Rosellen Brown: Not all would admire Ben’s decisions when faced with the most ghastly of family problems, (his teenage son is accused of murder) but this complicated character manages to love and stay with his wife and children, even as their individual choices strain the family beyond reason.
Robert from An Execution in The Family by Robert Meeropol: Robert was six years old when his parents, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg, were executed. His memoir reveals a man so strong at the broken places that reading it left me breathless for his courage in facing down the demons. This good man honors his biological and adoptive parents in both this book and in the work he does for children of imprisoned political activists.
Howard from A Map of the World by Jane Hamilton must choose between his dreams and stepping up to the family plate when his wife is sent to prison. There is no glamour here—we see the unremitting weariness of the entire family, and the incredible durability of a good man.
How about the other side? The sexy good men (and aren’t the truly good and responsible ones men, not boys?) who step up for justice, or catch a killer, or save the town, without trampling on women’s hearts or bending the rules with a smirk on their faces—how many of them do we worship?
Okay, I too am susceptible to these mythical men who are capable of saving towns and a damsel or two, but fall apart faced with love and fatherhood (I’m talking to you, Woodrow Call of Lonesome Dove.) But the older I get the more I appreciate, am fascinated by, and want to turn the pages to read about, complicated sexy responsible heroes:
Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee: Atticus sits on the mountaintop of this particular category. He takes care of his motherless children. He fights injustice. He takes on an entire town to face down racism. He’s wise, he’s caring, and we all want to marry him.
Amir from The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini: Amir grows from privileged child who both loves and uses his childhood friend—the child of a family servant—to a man who risks his life for this man and the man’s child. He loves and respects his wife. He is brave through his fright; he is a responsible man to admire.
Reuben from The Book of Reuben by Tabitha King: Reuben struggles—he is an imperfect man, but he is a character who grows and moves outside his comfort zone in his journey to find happiness, authenticity, and moral grounding.
Ben from Before and After by Rosellen Brown: Not all would admire Ben’s decisions when faced with the most ghastly of family problems, (his teenage son is accused of murder) but this complicated character manages to love and stay with his wife and children, even as their individual choices strain the family beyond reason.
Robert from An Execution in The Family by Robert Meeropol: Robert was six years old when his parents, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg, were executed. His memoir reveals a man so strong at the broken places that reading it left me breathless for his courage in facing down the demons. This good man honors his biological and adoptive parents in both this book and in the work he does for children of imprisoned political activists.
Howard from A Map of the World by Jane Hamilton must choose between his dreams and stepping up to the family plate when his wife is sent to prison. There is no glamour here—we see the unremitting weariness of the entire family, and the incredible durability of a good man.
March 11, 2010
The GOTTA KNOW books
Is there anything better than a ‘gotta know’ book? I love the ones that induce hide-my-eyes fear because of some impending disaster; the ones that give me a stomach ache because my favorite character is in emotional jeopardy (leave him, no stay with him, no leave him . . .)
I love the books that make me stay up till two in the morning. The ones that make me wish I didn’t have TIVO, so I’d have a commercial break in which to read. (I know what you’re thinking—“perhaps you could turn off the TV, Randy.” But come on, Damages is on!)
I need some suggestions—and you probably do too. So, in no particular order, my here are six off-the-top-of-my-head Gotta Know books:
The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley: Just finished this! I cheated on my work-in-progress to get to the end, and I have a deep Puritan ethic when it comes to work—so what does that tell you? Very topical: what happens to ordinary people during a pandemic? Buckley wrote an incredible exploration of a mother’s fierce protectiveness slamming up against about civilized behavior.
Every Secret Thing by Laura Lippman: If you have not yet discovered Lippman’s stand-alone suspense books—get thee to a bookstore. They are all good. This one stood out for me for that awful sense of ‘your life can change so fast.’ Lippman builds worlds that reach out and pull you down under the surface in seconds.
Warday by Whitley Strieber and James Kunetka: How would a nuclear war change the world? This book is out of print—so get thee to a library or buy it second hand. Don’t ask to borrow my tattered copy. I still re-read it. I still get scared when I do. It could be retitled “Read this and become a pacifist.”
Gerald’s Game by Stephen King: If I tell you almost anything, it will be a plot spoiler. Look, I am not a horror fan, but King has some books that simply force your eyes open. I read this straight through in a night. Could. Not. Put. It. Down. Woman in danger. Marital games gone awry in the worst of ways. Nuff said.
Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux: Jeez, I put this on every list, don’t I? This is literary fiction cross-bred with the gotta know. Crazy-intellectual-invention-father drags his family to live in the jungle and live out his fantasy. Trouble ensues. Oh yeah.
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurty: I envy you if you haven’t read this yet–because what a treat you have in front of you! The west as it’s never written, a saga of terror, love of every kind, kindness where you wouldn’t expect it–and so much gotta that you may not sleep until you finish–and it’s a heck of a fat book. Another book I’ll never lend, because I gotta know it’s there when I need it.
We’re edging towards summer, when we simply must have some time in a lounge chair with a good ‘gotta know.’ What are your recommendations?
I love the books that make me stay up till two in the morning. The ones that make me wish I didn’t have TIVO, so I’d have a commercial break in which to read. (I know what you’re thinking—“perhaps you could turn off the TV, Randy.” But come on, Damages is on!)
I need some suggestions—and you probably do too. So, in no particular order, my here are six off-the-top-of-my-head Gotta Know books:
The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley: Just finished this! I cheated on my work-in-progress to get to the end, and I have a deep Puritan ethic when it comes to work—so what does that tell you? Very topical: what happens to ordinary people during a pandemic? Buckley wrote an incredible exploration of a mother’s fierce protectiveness slamming up against about civilized behavior.
Every Secret Thing by Laura Lippman: If you have not yet discovered Lippman’s stand-alone suspense books—get thee to a bookstore. They are all good. This one stood out for me for that awful sense of ‘your life can change so fast.’ Lippman builds worlds that reach out and pull you down under the surface in seconds.
Warday by Whitley Strieber and James Kunetka: How would a nuclear war change the world? This book is out of print—so get thee to a library or buy it second hand. Don’t ask to borrow my tattered copy. I still re-read it. I still get scared when I do. It could be retitled “Read this and become a pacifist.”
Gerald’s Game by Stephen King: If I tell you almost anything, it will be a plot spoiler. Look, I am not a horror fan, but King has some books that simply force your eyes open. I read this straight through in a night. Could. Not. Put. It. Down. Woman in danger. Marital games gone awry in the worst of ways. Nuff said.
Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux: Jeez, I put this on every list, don’t I? This is literary fiction cross-bred with the gotta know. Crazy-intellectual-invention-father drags his family to live in the jungle and live out his fantasy. Trouble ensues. Oh yeah.
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurty: I envy you if you haven’t read this yet–because what a treat you have in front of you! The west as it’s never written, a saga of terror, love of every kind, kindness where you wouldn’t expect it–and so much gotta that you may not sleep until you finish–and it’s a heck of a fat book. Another book I’ll never lend, because I gotta know it’s there when I need it.
We’re edging towards summer, when we simply must have some time in a lounge chair with a good ‘gotta know.’ What are your recommendations?
March 10, 2010
Too Broke for Books?
I heard the Mayor on the radio talking about libraries. He said ‘neighborhoods aren’t about buildings, they’re about people.’
Huh? The least of what describes libraries is buildings. Nearly 400 people didn’t pack the lecture hall of Boston’s main branch library because they want to preserve a building. Is the Mayor implying that one’s neighbors will read to your children? Will they buy you books if you’re laid off? Take in your elderly parents during the day? Let your kids use their computer if you can’t afford one?
How many folks making our budget cuts grew up relying on the library? How many of them realized that after-school, the library is often the only safe place in the world? How many have been old and lonely, and had the library as their sole source of entertainment.
On goodreads.com, a popular book site, they have book ‘giveaways.’ Looking at the five giveaways ending soonest there are almost 5,000 people competing to win copies of these five books.
Seems to me that people want to read and learn.
Are we consigning our struggling neighbors television to meet their social needs? Because your neighbors and my neighbors (and I have terrific neighbors) are not planning to provide pre-school story hours, newspaper reading rooms, or lending libraries.
Books are the backbone of culture. Our elders and poor aren’t walking around with Whispernet, downloading books unto their Kindles.
Is Boston too broke to let our poorer neighbors learn? Because it’s not the rich, or the children of the rich, or the solidly middle-class who need libraries in order to read, use the computer, research, have a warm and safe place to peruse the newspaper, have a destination for the elders, look for a job, meet other toddlers, and explore about the world outside their neighborhood. It’s the poor. It’s the working class. It’s anyone and everyone who struggles.
If neighborhoods are people, than the people need a place to gather. Please protect our libraries.
Huh? The least of what describes libraries is buildings. Nearly 400 people didn’t pack the lecture hall of Boston’s main branch library because they want to preserve a building. Is the Mayor implying that one’s neighbors will read to your children? Will they buy you books if you’re laid off? Take in your elderly parents during the day? Let your kids use their computer if you can’t afford one?
How many folks making our budget cuts grew up relying on the library? How many of them realized that after-school, the library is often the only safe place in the world? How many have been old and lonely, and had the library as their sole source of entertainment.
On goodreads.com, a popular book site, they have book ‘giveaways.’ Looking at the five giveaways ending soonest there are almost 5,000 people competing to win copies of these five books.
Seems to me that people want to read and learn.
Are we consigning our struggling neighbors television to meet their social needs? Because your neighbors and my neighbors (and I have terrific neighbors) are not planning to provide pre-school story hours, newspaper reading rooms, or lending libraries.
Books are the backbone of culture. Our elders and poor aren’t walking around with Whispernet, downloading books unto their Kindles.
Is Boston too broke to let our poorer neighbors learn? Because it’s not the rich, or the children of the rich, or the solidly middle-class who need libraries in order to read, use the computer, research, have a warm and safe place to peruse the newspaper, have a destination for the elders, look for a job, meet other toddlers, and explore about the world outside their neighborhood. It’s the poor. It’s the working class. It’s anyone and everyone who struggles.
If neighborhoods are people, than the people need a place to gather. Please protect our libraries.
March 1, 2010
Behind the Pages: Five Facts about that Bad Boy of Yours
Perhaps the lure of the bad boy is similar to the lure of climbing Mt. Everest. It feels so good to conquer it and get to the top—despite all the pain you felt on the ascent. Unfortunately, you have to climb down and start all over again to get back up to that thrilling peak.
Working with batterers for almost ten years afforded me plenty of material and plenty of insight. The clearest and most useful lesson I learned was this: a ‘bad boy’ isn’t edgy, exciting, and a bag of fun, he’s mean and selfish and looking out for number one—himself—all the time.
Many of the batterers were classic bad boys; they could charm like no one else. They gave me smoldering glances so I’d know that I was the ONLY one in the entire world who they’d let inside their soul. When they didn’t have money to pay for classes, or had been picked up on a new charge, or failed a drug test, they’d look at me with their carefully tortured eyes and tell me how sorry they were.
And they really were sorry. Sorry they’d been caught and sorry they had to spend another night pretending to pay attention to this crap we were teaching.
At their core, these guys weren’t very different from the bad boys I’d once been drawn to. But never again, not after working that job. I wish I could share with every woman the experience of sitting in a circle with 15 court-ordered-to-be-there bad boys, because at some point during the 42 weeks they occupied that chair in the church basement, they let loose with some truth that revealed the dime a dozen ordinariness of bad boy behavior.
So, while I can’t put you in that room, I can try to share with you what I learned there:
1) When you and your bad boy get in that insane fight, and you don’t know how it began, why it happened, or why he stormed out the door . . . when you’re ready to follow him so you can beg his forgiveness—but you don’t have any idea what to apologize for—here’s what’s really going on:
He wanted to get out of the house. So he caused the fight. The men admitted it. Turns out this sleazy little tactic is very, very common.
2) Which leads to this: What did most men admit they wanted to get out of the truly awful battles? You know, the ones where he yelled so loud you finally backed down?
If Jeopardy could have more realistic categories, the response to “most common thing men want women to do during a fight?” would be “Alex, what is “shut the f*** up.”
3) Think this when he tells you “you’re the only one I’ve ever been able to talk to.” Yeah, right. First of all he’s probably said the same thing to 100 other women before you. Because he knows it’s like catnip. The men I worked with were very clear that they used this line only to manipulate.
4) When he says, “I can’t live without you,” here’s a news flash. Yes he can. And he will. Quite well. The question is, can you live with him? Do you want to? Do you like being kept off balance? Do you treasure being used like medicine for someone’s lack of self-confidence or need to control?
5) You want to believe it will change. Things will get better. If you explain it once more, write one more email, one more letter, or cry one more time, then finally he will understand! And once he understands, those moments of incredible tenderness and bliss —when he gives you that crooked smile and takes you in his arms and then gently helps you onto his exciting motorcycle—will last forever.
I promise you, things will not change. He will not get better. There’s nothing you can do without him wanting change, and the cycle will continue as long as you let it.
So here’s my advice, as a mother, a sister, a friend and most of all, from a woman who worked with those bad boys:
Choose kind over thrilling. It wears much better.
Choose responsible over devil-may-care. It will keep you and your children warm and safe at night.
Choose a man who wants to be your friend, not one who will be your life-long home improvement project.
Working with batterers for almost ten years afforded me plenty of material and plenty of insight. The clearest and most useful lesson I learned was this: a ‘bad boy’ isn’t edgy, exciting, and a bag of fun, he’s mean and selfish and looking out for number one—himself—all the time.
Many of the batterers were classic bad boys; they could charm like no one else. They gave me smoldering glances so I’d know that I was the ONLY one in the entire world who they’d let inside their soul. When they didn’t have money to pay for classes, or had been picked up on a new charge, or failed a drug test, they’d look at me with their carefully tortured eyes and tell me how sorry they were.
And they really were sorry. Sorry they’d been caught and sorry they had to spend another night pretending to pay attention to this crap we were teaching.
At their core, these guys weren’t very different from the bad boys I’d once been drawn to. But never again, not after working that job. I wish I could share with every woman the experience of sitting in a circle with 15 court-ordered-to-be-there bad boys, because at some point during the 42 weeks they occupied that chair in the church basement, they let loose with some truth that revealed the dime a dozen ordinariness of bad boy behavior.
So, while I can’t put you in that room, I can try to share with you what I learned there:
1) When you and your bad boy get in that insane fight, and you don’t know how it began, why it happened, or why he stormed out the door . . . when you’re ready to follow him so you can beg his forgiveness—but you don’t have any idea what to apologize for—here’s what’s really going on:
He wanted to get out of the house. So he caused the fight. The men admitted it. Turns out this sleazy little tactic is very, very common.
2) Which leads to this: What did most men admit they wanted to get out of the truly awful battles? You know, the ones where he yelled so loud you finally backed down?
If Jeopardy could have more realistic categories, the response to “most common thing men want women to do during a fight?” would be “Alex, what is “shut the f*** up.”
3) Think this when he tells you “you’re the only one I’ve ever been able to talk to.” Yeah, right. First of all he’s probably said the same thing to 100 other women before you. Because he knows it’s like catnip. The men I worked with were very clear that they used this line only to manipulate.
4) When he says, “I can’t live without you,” here’s a news flash. Yes he can. And he will. Quite well. The question is, can you live with him? Do you want to? Do you like being kept off balance? Do you treasure being used like medicine for someone’s lack of self-confidence or need to control?
5) You want to believe it will change. Things will get better. If you explain it once more, write one more email, one more letter, or cry one more time, then finally he will understand! And once he understands, those moments of incredible tenderness and bliss —when he gives you that crooked smile and takes you in his arms and then gently helps you onto his exciting motorcycle—will last forever.
I promise you, things will not change. He will not get better. There’s nothing you can do without him wanting change, and the cycle will continue as long as you let it.
So here’s my advice, as a mother, a sister, a friend and most of all, from a woman who worked with those bad boys:
Choose kind over thrilling. It wears much better.
Choose responsible over devil-may-care. It will keep you and your children warm and safe at night.
Choose a man who wants to be your friend, not one who will be your life-long home improvement project.
February 19, 2010
It Take a Bureaucracy to Raze a Library
According to yesterday’s Boston Globe, writing about the Boston Public Library system: Circulation in the system has risen 31 percent in the last three years.
This in an article headlined: Boston Public Library may close 10 of its branches.
According to me: The dollars that a city or state will invest in their libraries, measures its willingness to care for its children, seniors, teenagers. It shows how far it will go to help those who don’t have the funds for books, don’t have a warm and safe place to spend an afternoon, or need a place for their little ones to sit with other squirming toddlers to learn the joy of books.
Our economy is down. We need to cut back. Yes. Still . . .if you are a parent and your family loses one quarter of it’s income, do you protect the person who maybe greased your way into a country club membership? (Perhaps, um, akin to a campaign contributor’s sinecure in a remote post in a hidden agency budget line?) Or do you protect the dues you pay for your children’s afterschool program, ensuring they are safe while you’re out looking for a job?
At this moment in my life I can buy the books I need—and I mean need. For me, as for many, books are how I relax, learn, research, get to sleep, get through trauma, celebrate . . . they are right after shelter, food, and health care. But it wasn’t long ago that I got 95% of my reading through the library. As did my children.
Troubled and neglected kids can be saved by books—and I don’t used those words as hyperbole. I was raised by books. Almost every day I walked the twenty or so Brooklyn blocks to get to my neighborhood library branch. Like the steady family I’d wished I had, there it always was.
That’s the beauty of books. They don’t just transport, they heal, they teach, and they soothe. On the loneliest of days, they ask no more than picking them up. In the worst of times, they stand by.
We need to offer this opportunity, now more than ever. Our economy is down; thus people are out of work. Doesn’t it make sense to protect (along with teachers, police, fire-fighters and health workers) the place where folks can (without cost) write their resumes, look for jobs, bring their children, pass the burden of unfilled hours, meet their neighbors, surf the web, learn the future and learn from the past?
I do not believe that the libraries are the only place we can cut in either a municipal or state budget, or that they should be in the first line for slashes. I know it is an easy place to take a whack. Personally, I wish there were a box to check on tax forms to give extra dollars to libraries. And I wish that every politician valued our libraries even a quarter as much as they seem to value campaign contributions.
Sometimes parents aren’t equipped to raise children. Sometimes adult children aren’t equipped to care for elderly parents. That’s when the village should step in. That’s why we have schools. And hospices. And libraries.
This in an article headlined: Boston Public Library may close 10 of its branches.
According to me: The dollars that a city or state will invest in their libraries, measures its willingness to care for its children, seniors, teenagers. It shows how far it will go to help those who don’t have the funds for books, don’t have a warm and safe place to spend an afternoon, or need a place for their little ones to sit with other squirming toddlers to learn the joy of books.
Our economy is down. We need to cut back. Yes. Still . . .if you are a parent and your family loses one quarter of it’s income, do you protect the person who maybe greased your way into a country club membership? (Perhaps, um, akin to a campaign contributor’s sinecure in a remote post in a hidden agency budget line?) Or do you protect the dues you pay for your children’s afterschool program, ensuring they are safe while you’re out looking for a job?
At this moment in my life I can buy the books I need—and I mean need. For me, as for many, books are how I relax, learn, research, get to sleep, get through trauma, celebrate . . . they are right after shelter, food, and health care. But it wasn’t long ago that I got 95% of my reading through the library. As did my children.
Troubled and neglected kids can be saved by books—and I don’t used those words as hyperbole. I was raised by books. Almost every day I walked the twenty or so Brooklyn blocks to get to my neighborhood library branch. Like the steady family I’d wished I had, there it always was.
That’s the beauty of books. They don’t just transport, they heal, they teach, and they soothe. On the loneliest of days, they ask no more than picking them up. In the worst of times, they stand by.
We need to offer this opportunity, now more than ever. Our economy is down; thus people are out of work. Doesn’t it make sense to protect (along with teachers, police, fire-fighters and health workers) the place where folks can (without cost) write their resumes, look for jobs, bring their children, pass the burden of unfilled hours, meet their neighbors, surf the web, learn the future and learn from the past?
I do not believe that the libraries are the only place we can cut in either a municipal or state budget, or that they should be in the first line for slashes. I know it is an easy place to take a whack. Personally, I wish there were a box to check on tax forms to give extra dollars to libraries. And I wish that every politician valued our libraries even a quarter as much as they seem to value campaign contributions.
Sometimes parents aren’t equipped to raise children. Sometimes adult children aren’t equipped to care for elderly parents. That’s when the village should step in. That’s why we have schools. And hospices. And libraries.
February 11, 2010
The Reader-Writer Covenant
What is the relationship between reader and writer? I’ve been a reader for far more hours of my life than I’ve been a writer. As a child, I made twice-weekly trips to the Kensington branch of the Brooklyn library nearest my home (my haul each time limited by the rules for children’s cards.) Writers were gods to me, purveyors of that which I needed for sustenance. Food. Shelter. Books. Those were my life’s priorities.
Naturally, I liked some books more than others. Some of the books I read as a child etched themselves on my soul (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn). I felt as if these books reached inside me and wrenched out truth.
As an adult reader I still feel that way; I’m constantly foraging for books that offer glimpses into a character’s psyche, that go deep enough to make me part of the choir, saying, “Oh yeah, me too, tell it, writer. True that, uh huh.”
Now that I am a writer, I’ve learned that reaching so deep isn’t always comfortable. Hey, my daughter’s gonna read this! Hey, husband: this isn’t you! It’s far easier to skate on the surface. And, honestly, there is a place on my shelf for those soothing books. Sometimes I want a comfort read, a total escape, a warm place to rest.
I believe there should be a covenant between writer and reader – an offering made by a writer to the reader. What it is that you, the writer, are offering to you, the reader? (Because I can’t imagine a writer who is not also a reader.) Are you making a covenant with the reader? Are you offering the reader the same qualities that you want when you're the reader? Are you offering them your very best?
Sometimes I worry, that in the rush of wanting to publish, I could forget the importance of writing (in the inestimable words of Natalie Goldberg) down the bones.
My favorite books, the ones I return to time and again, are those ones gritty enough to have emotional truth (which is very different than the truth of events.) Thus, I try to write with a knife held to my own throat, so that my work will hold as much emotional truth as possible. Another reader/writer might prefer a thriller that sets their heart pounding--but every genre owns it's own truth and depth. I suspect that the best writers in each genre are readers of the same.
Books are precious to me. Right now I am turning the pages of Game Change by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin in every spare moment. I schlepped the thing on Amtrak from Boston to Albany to Rhinebeck. I could have taken a lighter book, or simply read something on my electronic device. This is a controversial book - many have denounced it as no more than gossip. But whatever it is, it satisfies my hungry reader. I was so desperate to read this book that I was unwilling to leave it behind for 4 days. I think Halperin and Heilemann put themselves on the good edge of their genre covering political intrigue in a presidential campaign.)
That’s exactly what this reader wants: writers who have dug deep, whatever their genre, and given me the those best hours of my day. They kept their covenant with me.
Naturally, I liked some books more than others. Some of the books I read as a child etched themselves on my soul (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn). I felt as if these books reached inside me and wrenched out truth.
As an adult reader I still feel that way; I’m constantly foraging for books that offer glimpses into a character’s psyche, that go deep enough to make me part of the choir, saying, “Oh yeah, me too, tell it, writer. True that, uh huh.”
Now that I am a writer, I’ve learned that reaching so deep isn’t always comfortable. Hey, my daughter’s gonna read this! Hey, husband: this isn’t you! It’s far easier to skate on the surface. And, honestly, there is a place on my shelf for those soothing books. Sometimes I want a comfort read, a total escape, a warm place to rest.
I believe there should be a covenant between writer and reader – an offering made by a writer to the reader. What it is that you, the writer, are offering to you, the reader? (Because I can’t imagine a writer who is not also a reader.) Are you making a covenant with the reader? Are you offering the reader the same qualities that you want when you're the reader? Are you offering them your very best?
Sometimes I worry, that in the rush of wanting to publish, I could forget the importance of writing (in the inestimable words of Natalie Goldberg) down the bones.
My favorite books, the ones I return to time and again, are those ones gritty enough to have emotional truth (which is very different than the truth of events.) Thus, I try to write with a knife held to my own throat, so that my work will hold as much emotional truth as possible. Another reader/writer might prefer a thriller that sets their heart pounding--but every genre owns it's own truth and depth. I suspect that the best writers in each genre are readers of the same.
Books are precious to me. Right now I am turning the pages of Game Change by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin in every spare moment. I schlepped the thing on Amtrak from Boston to Albany to Rhinebeck. I could have taken a lighter book, or simply read something on my electronic device. This is a controversial book - many have denounced it as no more than gossip. But whatever it is, it satisfies my hungry reader. I was so desperate to read this book that I was unwilling to leave it behind for 4 days. I think Halperin and Heilemann put themselves on the good edge of their genre covering political intrigue in a presidential campaign.)
That’s exactly what this reader wants: writers who have dug deep, whatever their genre, and given me the those best hours of my day. They kept their covenant with me.
January 26, 2010
Using Words for Freedom!
Every day I try to remind myself that too many women in this world live without voice, without words, and without the ability to make themselves heard. Is anything more basic than the desire to be understood? Perhaps I have taken too much for granted my right to walk free and express myself.
There is a soon-to-be-yellowing newspaper clipping in my blog post idea folder. Of late I have been incredibly caught up in myself, my book launch, the omnipresent me, me, me. But, finally, a voice with far better sense of priorities spoke into my ear today.
According to Los Angeles Times writer Mark Magnier, “The Khabar Lehariya, or News Waves, is India’s first newspaper written by tribal women or those from the Dalit, or so-called untouchable caste.”
Magnier writes that many of these women were beaten, sexually abused as children, and married off young. Some of them fought to get out of abusive marriages. The story outlines the incredible journeys all these women have taken to be part of writing, producing, and delivering the paper.
Indianexpress.com relates that “[r:]ural newspapers are creating a silent revolution in Uttar Pradesh. Recently, Khabar Lehariya, brought out by the low-caste rural women of Bundelkhand, was selected for the UNESCO King Sejong Literacy Prize for the year 2009. With this, over a dozen newsletters across UP have also come into focus.”
Reading about women, who faced many hardships to produce their paper, and then walked through harsh conditions to deliver it, I am reminded once again: there but for the grace of luck and happenstance go I.
Today is a good day to remember how many women have been silenced, and to thank the magnificently strong women all over the world who fight to make their voices heard. Their struggle should be ours. How do we make it so?
One world.
There is a soon-to-be-yellowing newspaper clipping in my blog post idea folder. Of late I have been incredibly caught up in myself, my book launch, the omnipresent me, me, me. But, finally, a voice with far better sense of priorities spoke into my ear today.
According to Los Angeles Times writer Mark Magnier, “The Khabar Lehariya, or News Waves, is India’s first newspaper written by tribal women or those from the Dalit, or so-called untouchable caste.”
Magnier writes that many of these women were beaten, sexually abused as children, and married off young. Some of them fought to get out of abusive marriages. The story outlines the incredible journeys all these women have taken to be part of writing, producing, and delivering the paper.
Indianexpress.com relates that “[r:]ural newspapers are creating a silent revolution in Uttar Pradesh. Recently, Khabar Lehariya, brought out by the low-caste rural women of Bundelkhand, was selected for the UNESCO King Sejong Literacy Prize for the year 2009. With this, over a dozen newsletters across UP have also come into focus.”
Reading about women, who faced many hardships to produce their paper, and then walked through harsh conditions to deliver it, I am reminded once again: there but for the grace of luck and happenstance go I.
Today is a good day to remember how many women have been silenced, and to thank the magnificently strong women all over the world who fight to make their voices heard. Their struggle should be ours. How do we make it so?
One world.
January 4, 2010
First You Gotta Have Friends!
One of the unexpected joys of (soon!) publishing a novel is how, like heat and comfort- seeking missiles, you find friends on the same path. Some you know in real life, some you meet on Twitter, some on wonderful sites like Backspace. Virtual or real, in that lonely sweat pants wearing world no matter what your work, first ya gotta have friends.
I’ve not read any of these books in their entirety, but I’ve visited all their websites, read their first chapters online where I could, and pre-ordered each and everyone. Thus, in order of pub date, I present, my launch sisters (is it okay if I squeeze myself in there also?) beginning with the first lines of each book.
Part One: January
DOUBLE BLACK: A Ski Diva Mystery by Wendy Clinch. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/67... 5, 2010
“When Stacey Curtis found the dead man in the bed, she knew it was time to get her own apartment.
The writing had been on the wall for a while and she’d ignored it for as long as she could. These empty condos on the mountain were convenient—they had clean sheets and plenty of hot water and maybe even a packet of somebody’s left-behind instant oatmeal to toss in the microwave come morning—and it seemed like a shame to let them sit unused. Especially when she was new in town, just sprung from an engagement gone bad, and living out of a tip jar.
A tip jar and an ‘87 Subaru, to tell the whole truth.”
*********
SAVING CEECEE HONEYCUTT Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman. January 12, 2010: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
“Momma left her red satin shoes in the middle of the road. That’s what three eyewitnesses told the police. The first time I remember my mother wearing red shoes was on a snowy morning in December 1962, the year I was seven years old. I walked into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table. No lights were on, but in the thin haze of dawn that pushed through the frostbitten window, I could see red high-heeled shoes peeking out from beneath the hem of her robe. There was no breakfast waiting, and no freshly ironed school dress hanging on the basement doorknob. Momma just sat and stared out the window with empty eyes, her hands limp in her lap, her coffee cold and untouched.
I stood by her side and breathed in the sweet scent of lavender talcum powder that clung to the tufts of her robe.”
*********
ALICE I HAVE BEEN by Melanie Benjamin. January 12, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/65...
“But oh my dear, I am tired of being Alice in Wonderland. Does it sound ungrateful? It is. Only I do get tired.
Only I do get tired.
I pause, place the pen down next to the page, and massage my aching hand; the joints of my fingers, in particular, are stiff and cold and ugly, like knots on a tree. One does get tired of so many things, of course, when one is eighty, not the least of which is answering endless letters.”
*********
THE MURDERER'S DAUGHTERS by Randy Susan Meyers, releasing January 19, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
“I wasn’t surprised when Mama asked me to save her life. By my first week in kindergarten, I knew she was no macaroni- necklace- wearing kind of mother. Essentially, Mama regarded me as a miniature hand servant:
Grab me a Pepsi, Lulu.
Get the milk for your sister’s cereal.
Go to the store and buy me a pack of Winstons.
Then one day she upped the stakes:
Don’t let Daddy in the apartment.”
*********
Coming soon: February Launch Sisters
DRIVE TIME by Hank Phillipi Ryan, releasing February 1, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/67...
THE THINGS THAT KEEP UP HERE by Carla Buckley, releasing February 9, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
I’ve not read any of these books in their entirety, but I’ve visited all their websites, read their first chapters online where I could, and pre-ordered each and everyone. Thus, in order of pub date, I present, my launch sisters (is it okay if I squeeze myself in there also?) beginning with the first lines of each book.
Part One: January
DOUBLE BLACK: A Ski Diva Mystery by Wendy Clinch. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/67... 5, 2010
“When Stacey Curtis found the dead man in the bed, she knew it was time to get her own apartment.
The writing had been on the wall for a while and she’d ignored it for as long as she could. These empty condos on the mountain were convenient—they had clean sheets and plenty of hot water and maybe even a packet of somebody’s left-behind instant oatmeal to toss in the microwave come morning—and it seemed like a shame to let them sit unused. Especially when she was new in town, just sprung from an engagement gone bad, and living out of a tip jar.
A tip jar and an ‘87 Subaru, to tell the whole truth.”
*********
SAVING CEECEE HONEYCUTT Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman. January 12, 2010: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
“Momma left her red satin shoes in the middle of the road. That’s what three eyewitnesses told the police. The first time I remember my mother wearing red shoes was on a snowy morning in December 1962, the year I was seven years old. I walked into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table. No lights were on, but in the thin haze of dawn that pushed through the frostbitten window, I could see red high-heeled shoes peeking out from beneath the hem of her robe. There was no breakfast waiting, and no freshly ironed school dress hanging on the basement doorknob. Momma just sat and stared out the window with empty eyes, her hands limp in her lap, her coffee cold and untouched.
I stood by her side and breathed in the sweet scent of lavender talcum powder that clung to the tufts of her robe.”
*********
ALICE I HAVE BEEN by Melanie Benjamin. January 12, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/65...
“But oh my dear, I am tired of being Alice in Wonderland. Does it sound ungrateful? It is. Only I do get tired.
Only I do get tired.
I pause, place the pen down next to the page, and massage my aching hand; the joints of my fingers, in particular, are stiff and cold and ugly, like knots on a tree. One does get tired of so many things, of course, when one is eighty, not the least of which is answering endless letters.”
*********
THE MURDERER'S DAUGHTERS by Randy Susan Meyers, releasing January 19, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
“I wasn’t surprised when Mama asked me to save her life. By my first week in kindergarten, I knew she was no macaroni- necklace- wearing kind of mother. Essentially, Mama regarded me as a miniature hand servant:
Grab me a Pepsi, Lulu.
Get the milk for your sister’s cereal.
Go to the store and buy me a pack of Winstons.
Then one day she upped the stakes:
Don’t let Daddy in the apartment.”
*********
Coming soon: February Launch Sisters
DRIVE TIME by Hank Phillipi Ryan, releasing February 1, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/67...
THE THINGS THAT KEEP UP HERE by Carla Buckley, releasing February 9, 2010
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/66...
December 30, 2009
Commandments for Book Launching (aka, Ms. Manners for Writers!)
In twenty-two days, St. Martin’s Press will release my novel, The Murderer’s Daughters, the story of sisters who witness their father murder their mother and struggle with the aftermath for the next thirty years.
Panic best defines my countdown to publication state-of-being. How will I bear bad reviews? Or no reviews? What if no one comes to my book launch party? What if there’s a blizzard that night? What if the food runs out?
What if I behave badly? I’m dependent on books for knowledge. Though there are many on my shelf offering advice on writing, selling, promotion, grammar, and even the giving and taking of criticism, I’ve yet to find one providing the Miss Manners guide to launching a book (and this may be especially neccessary for the self-absorbed monsters screaming me, me, me, in my head.)
Where is the rulebook?
I was raised without formal religion (except bagels and lox) but I know that one turns to God for wisdom. Thus, needing rules, what better template to use for forging my own path than the Ten Commandments?
These are my Writer’s Launch Commandments, humbly based on the policies carried by Moses and braised with that which I’ve witnessed (the good, bad, and clumsy) in others and myself:
1. You shall have no other gods before . . .
Remember thy agent: she who brought you into this world: She who rescued you from the sucking sound of mud, dragging you by the strength of her strong and motherly arms, and introduced you to your editor and publishing house. Consider her wisdom first and always in your decisions.
2. Beware blasphemous words . . .
Remember the flood of clients thy publicist is juggling. Swallow thy rage at not showing up in the New York Times Book Review. Who art thou to think of thyself as so important? Thy publicist must spread her love wide. Suck it up and stand in line as the grateful child thou must be.
3. You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain . . .
Never speak ill of thy publisher or editor, for it shows naught but crass ingratitude and will forever boomerang back. If thou spreadst or writest evil on the Internet, thou are too stupid to deserve a second chance.
4. And on the seventh day, rest . . .
Take a break occasionally, or thine arm will turn to stone and thou shall spend all advance given by thy publisher on thine masseuse and ibuprofen.
5. Honor your father and your mother . . .
Drink not of thine own Kool Aid. Thine husbands, wives, children, and siblings have lives. Amazingly, they consider their lives as important as thine own life, and are, in fact, the stars of their own show. Treat NOT your family as your coterie. Do not expect them to read every word you write, unless you plan to admire every database they build, every car they fix, and every throat culture for which they swab.
6. You shall not murder . . .
Thou shalt not kill thy friendships by expecting that thy launch is the equal of their baby’s birth, or by forgetting their upcoming nuptials because of time spent Googling thyself, or trying make-up techniques for thy next author photo.
7. You shall not commit adultery . . .
Thou must not imagine lying in the consciousness of another writer’s agent, editor, publicist, or marketer, no matter how grandiose the descriptions used by fellow-authors in describing efforts made on their behalf; one must dance with the one that brought you at all times.
8. You shall not steal . . .
Upon reading a brilliant tweet, retweet. Do not take that URL and claim as thine own!
9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. . .
Speak well of thy writer-friends. They are your writer sisters and brothers. Bringing thy friend down will not bring thee up.
10. You shall not covet your neighbor's . . .
Thou shalt not compare the Amazon and Barnes & Nobles rankings of thy sisters and brothers with thyself, for in that lie only madness.
Panic best defines my countdown to publication state-of-being. How will I bear bad reviews? Or no reviews? What if no one comes to my book launch party? What if there’s a blizzard that night? What if the food runs out?
What if I behave badly? I’m dependent on books for knowledge. Though there are many on my shelf offering advice on writing, selling, promotion, grammar, and even the giving and taking of criticism, I’ve yet to find one providing the Miss Manners guide to launching a book (and this may be especially neccessary for the self-absorbed monsters screaming me, me, me, in my head.)
Where is the rulebook?
I was raised without formal religion (except bagels and lox) but I know that one turns to God for wisdom. Thus, needing rules, what better template to use for forging my own path than the Ten Commandments?
These are my Writer’s Launch Commandments, humbly based on the policies carried by Moses and braised with that which I’ve witnessed (the good, bad, and clumsy) in others and myself:
1. You shall have no other gods before . . .
Remember thy agent: she who brought you into this world: She who rescued you from the sucking sound of mud, dragging you by the strength of her strong and motherly arms, and introduced you to your editor and publishing house. Consider her wisdom first and always in your decisions.
2. Beware blasphemous words . . .
Remember the flood of clients thy publicist is juggling. Swallow thy rage at not showing up in the New York Times Book Review. Who art thou to think of thyself as so important? Thy publicist must spread her love wide. Suck it up and stand in line as the grateful child thou must be.
3. You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain . . .
Never speak ill of thy publisher or editor, for it shows naught but crass ingratitude and will forever boomerang back. If thou spreadst or writest evil on the Internet, thou are too stupid to deserve a second chance.
4. And on the seventh day, rest . . .
Take a break occasionally, or thine arm will turn to stone and thou shall spend all advance given by thy publisher on thine masseuse and ibuprofen.
5. Honor your father and your mother . . .
Drink not of thine own Kool Aid. Thine husbands, wives, children, and siblings have lives. Amazingly, they consider their lives as important as thine own life, and are, in fact, the stars of their own show. Treat NOT your family as your coterie. Do not expect them to read every word you write, unless you plan to admire every database they build, every car they fix, and every throat culture for which they swab.
6. You shall not murder . . .
Thou shalt not kill thy friendships by expecting that thy launch is the equal of their baby’s birth, or by forgetting their upcoming nuptials because of time spent Googling thyself, or trying make-up techniques for thy next author photo.
7. You shall not commit adultery . . .
Thou must not imagine lying in the consciousness of another writer’s agent, editor, publicist, or marketer, no matter how grandiose the descriptions used by fellow-authors in describing efforts made on their behalf; one must dance with the one that brought you at all times.
8. You shall not steal . . .
Upon reading a brilliant tweet, retweet. Do not take that URL and claim as thine own!
9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. . .
Speak well of thy writer-friends. They are your writer sisters and brothers. Bringing thy friend down will not bring thee up.
10. You shall not covet your neighbor's . . .
Thou shalt not compare the Amazon and Barnes & Nobles rankings of thy sisters and brothers with thyself, for in that lie only madness.
December 28, 2009
Moving Outside my Reading Comfort Zone
It’s there every time I enter the barn: a love so palpable that I often feel my heart will explode. My partner and I founded Catskill Animal Sanctuary, a haven for abused and abandoned farm animals, in 2001, and what surprises me most six years into the work is not what callous people do to animals, not the long hard days, not the uncertainties inherent in rescue work. A volunteer once commented to me, “There’s so much love here it’s even in the dirt,” and yes, she was right. CAS breaths love. That is the biggest surprise.
It is unlikely I would have read that introduction to the engaging, well-written, and totally enjoyable book (okay, I want to say heart-warming, but am a little hesitant to use such a worn cliché) Where the Blind Horse Sings: Love and Healing at an Animal Sanctuary by Kathy Stevens if my sister Jill hadn’t given me a copy.
My sister and I are alike in many ways: we both eat more rapidly than a starving pack of dogs, money slides away from us faster than ice from roofs during sudden thaws, and we will both take up and research a new interest as though we were the first in the world to discover . . . you name it. The difference is, while I was probably Googling best skin serums, Jill found her way to the Catskill Animal Sanctuary where she now gives massages to nine hundred pound pigs with names, and washes hundreds of tin bowls used for feeding rescued and now pampered farm animals. It’s Jill who gave me the above book, written by the founder and director of the Catskill Animal Sanctuary, Kathy Stevens.
My sister is a good and caring person. I may also carry the helper gene—but sadly, while her generosity extends to animals, I’ve always been a bit afraid of them. Thus, here is one more reason I am blessed to have her in my life: she helps me remember why humanity should care for and treat well all animals. In this book the author quotes Milos Kundera, author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being: “True human goodness, in all it’s purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when it’s recipient has no power. Mankind’s true test consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.”
Each chapter in Steven’s book tells the story of another rescued animal. Rambo is an Alpha sheep who lets the staff know when another animal is in trouble. Paulie, a former cockfighting rooster, once ready to cause pain by sinking his talons, now eats lunch with people and accompanies them on errands. Franklin, a depressed pig, after years of neglect must be coaxed away from the known-comfort of his own filth—a goal finally and joyously met by the ever-patient staff. Buddy the titled blind horse, immobilizes by fear after being penned for years in barbed wire that would pierce him with every movement, is taught, through the author’s love and patience, to discover the joy of walking free.
Where the Blind Horse Sings reminded me that humanity might mean looking outside of humans to build our belief in goodness and perseverance. It reminded me how differently each person may experience joy. And it reminded me, how smart my sister is, to find such a good and special place where she can spend time healing pigs and other creatures, great and small, back to their rightful place in the world.
Get this for someone who loves animals. Absolutely buy it for anyone who doesn’t.
It is unlikely I would have read that introduction to the engaging, well-written, and totally enjoyable book (okay, I want to say heart-warming, but am a little hesitant to use such a worn cliché) Where the Blind Horse Sings: Love and Healing at an Animal Sanctuary by Kathy Stevens if my sister Jill hadn’t given me a copy.
My sister and I are alike in many ways: we both eat more rapidly than a starving pack of dogs, money slides away from us faster than ice from roofs during sudden thaws, and we will both take up and research a new interest as though we were the first in the world to discover . . . you name it. The difference is, while I was probably Googling best skin serums, Jill found her way to the Catskill Animal Sanctuary where she now gives massages to nine hundred pound pigs with names, and washes hundreds of tin bowls used for feeding rescued and now pampered farm animals. It’s Jill who gave me the above book, written by the founder and director of the Catskill Animal Sanctuary, Kathy Stevens.
My sister is a good and caring person. I may also carry the helper gene—but sadly, while her generosity extends to animals, I’ve always been a bit afraid of them. Thus, here is one more reason I am blessed to have her in my life: she helps me remember why humanity should care for and treat well all animals. In this book the author quotes Milos Kundera, author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being: “True human goodness, in all it’s purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when it’s recipient has no power. Mankind’s true test consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.”
Each chapter in Steven’s book tells the story of another rescued animal. Rambo is an Alpha sheep who lets the staff know when another animal is in trouble. Paulie, a former cockfighting rooster, once ready to cause pain by sinking his talons, now eats lunch with people and accompanies them on errands. Franklin, a depressed pig, after years of neglect must be coaxed away from the known-comfort of his own filth—a goal finally and joyously met by the ever-patient staff. Buddy the titled blind horse, immobilizes by fear after being penned for years in barbed wire that would pierce him with every movement, is taught, through the author’s love and patience, to discover the joy of walking free.
Where the Blind Horse Sings reminded me that humanity might mean looking outside of humans to build our belief in goodness and perseverance. It reminded me how differently each person may experience joy. And it reminded me, how smart my sister is, to find such a good and special place where she can spend time healing pigs and other creatures, great and small, back to their rightful place in the world.
Get this for someone who loves animals. Absolutely buy it for anyone who doesn’t.
