Chris Bohjalian's Blog, page 49
March 10, 2010
Secrets of Eden -- the movie
SECRETS OF EDEN, the movie, will be coming soon to a TV near you.
Here are the details from this week's Variety:
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118...
More when I know more, so you can pop your popcorn and set your Tivo. . .
Here are the details from this week's Variety:
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118...
More when I know more, so you can pop your popcorn and set your Tivo. . .
March 7, 2010
You can't judge a book (tour) by its cover
Last month I was on the "Secrets of Eden," rock 'n' roll, get your T-shirts, running slime dog of literary capitalism book tour, and I lost zero pairs of underwear and vomited zero times on Dash 8 turboprops. In other words, it was pretty uneventful compared with other book tours I have been on. But I did meet thousands of wonderful readers across the country and enjoyed almost every moment.
This time, however, I also scribbled for posterity some of the unexpectedly candid things readers said to me on the road or those experiences that I will savor for a long, long time. The following are some of my favorites.
In Seattle, a bookseller told me that her store wasn't putting my new novel at the front of their shop with the other new books because "our readers are very discerning."
On a JetBlue flight from Boston to Fort Lauderdale, the gentleman beside me clapped his hands together and said in a tone that was definitely not his indoor-at-35,000-feet-voice, "Boom! Boom! Now, that's gotta hurt!" He was watching the National Geographic channel on one of the airline's 36 stations, and National Geographic was broadcasting a program about aviation disasters and airplane crashes. Yes, this was seemingly irresistible fare while flying ... but somehow I resisted it.
Among the very first questions asked at a reading in New York City that was being videotaped for a variety of Web sites was this: "I have not read any of your books but you use the word 'Eden' in your title. I presume your book is biblical commentary. Where do you stand on the historiography of the Old Testament?" The follow-up to this question was impressive, too: "I've never read any of your books, either. I just got out of a Sarajevo prison. Anyway, what kind of things do you want me to ask?"
On a flight from Chicago to Seattle, the toddler across the aisle from me clearly needed her Pull-Ups replaced. When I happened to catch the mother's eye, she smiled and nodded and said, "It really doesn't bother me, so long as it doesn't bother her. You get used to the smell." Sadly, it didn't begin to bother her daughter until we were west of the Rockies.
In Richmond, Va., there were 421 ticketed readers at an event at a women's club. The bookstore arrived with 19 books. Afterward, a completely charming Southern belle observed, "You were such a delight to listen to, I'm actually a little glad I'm not going home with your new book. After hearing you speak, it could only be a disappointment."
From a reader in San Francisco: "A lot of writers have died lately. Salinger. Robert Parker. Howard Zinn. You worried?"
From a reader in Denver: "My husband collects books. He says your first editions aren't worth very much. Why do you think that is?"
From a reader in Los Angeles: "My husband and I went to Vermont once to see the leaves. We stayed in a beautiful inn on the ocean."
From a reader in Paramus, N.J.: "Most of your books are set in Vermont, and I have nothing against Vermont. But someday you should write one set here in New Jersey. People are very interested in New Jersey, too, you know."
From a reader in a Chicago suburb: "They say they have no billboards in Vermont and you get a coupon for Ben & Jerry's ice cream with your property tax bill. Is that true?"
It's good to be home -- even if we really don't get coupons for ice cream with our tax bills.
This time, however, I also scribbled for posterity some of the unexpectedly candid things readers said to me on the road or those experiences that I will savor for a long, long time. The following are some of my favorites.
In Seattle, a bookseller told me that her store wasn't putting my new novel at the front of their shop with the other new books because "our readers are very discerning."
On a JetBlue flight from Boston to Fort Lauderdale, the gentleman beside me clapped his hands together and said in a tone that was definitely not his indoor-at-35,000-feet-voice, "Boom! Boom! Now, that's gotta hurt!" He was watching the National Geographic channel on one of the airline's 36 stations, and National Geographic was broadcasting a program about aviation disasters and airplane crashes. Yes, this was seemingly irresistible fare while flying ... but somehow I resisted it.
Among the very first questions asked at a reading in New York City that was being videotaped for a variety of Web sites was this: "I have not read any of your books but you use the word 'Eden' in your title. I presume your book is biblical commentary. Where do you stand on the historiography of the Old Testament?" The follow-up to this question was impressive, too: "I've never read any of your books, either. I just got out of a Sarajevo prison. Anyway, what kind of things do you want me to ask?"
On a flight from Chicago to Seattle, the toddler across the aisle from me clearly needed her Pull-Ups replaced. When I happened to catch the mother's eye, she smiled and nodded and said, "It really doesn't bother me, so long as it doesn't bother her. You get used to the smell." Sadly, it didn't begin to bother her daughter until we were west of the Rockies.
In Richmond, Va., there were 421 ticketed readers at an event at a women's club. The bookstore arrived with 19 books. Afterward, a completely charming Southern belle observed, "You were such a delight to listen to, I'm actually a little glad I'm not going home with your new book. After hearing you speak, it could only be a disappointment."
From a reader in San Francisco: "A lot of writers have died lately. Salinger. Robert Parker. Howard Zinn. You worried?"
From a reader in Denver: "My husband collects books. He says your first editions aren't worth very much. Why do you think that is?"
From a reader in Los Angeles: "My husband and I went to Vermont once to see the leaves. We stayed in a beautiful inn on the ocean."
From a reader in Paramus, N.J.: "Most of your books are set in Vermont, and I have nothing against Vermont. But someday you should write one set here in New Jersey. People are very interested in New Jersey, too, you know."
From a reader in a Chicago suburb: "They say they have no billboards in Vermont and you get a coupon for Ben & Jerry's ice cream with your property tax bill. Is that true?"
It's good to be home -- even if we really don't get coupons for ice cream with our tax bills.
February 28, 2010
No bleating or tweeting at town meeting
Tomorrow night, when Lincoln, Vermont holds its annual foray into legislative self-determination at Burnham Hall, I am confident that there will be two moments that will leave me nodding: First, when someone says something particularly wise and insightful. Second, when someone else offers a non sequitur so impressive that the rest of us at the meeting will be silent for a very long second, our minds thinking as one, "Did he really just say that?" It's a moment like this when even our moderator -- the immensely gifted David Marsters -- will be at a loss for words and finally will murmur politely, "That's a good point. But it's not germane to the discussion."
With any luck, it will not be me who will be repsonsible for the most spectacularly bizarre non sequitur of the night. When I am seated in my chair at town meeting, I live in fear that some unstoppable force will compel me to stand up and say something ... not germane. It's sort of like that nightmare where you walk into a high school math class during finals completely naked. There is nothing more humiliating at town meeting than offering an observation that is not germane.
On the other hand, you can be absolutely certain that I won't be the one offering sage (or even germane) insights into backhoes, bridges, school budgets, or any of the other items in the town warning. For a guy who spends a lot of time speaking in public, I am way too terrified in town meeting to ever open my mouth.
It was over two decades ago when I attended my first town meeting in Vermont. I was in my mid-twenties then, a new kid in town who had just moved to Lincoln from Brooklyn, and I couldn't have told you the difference between a schoolteacher and a grader. I think I thought they were one in the same. Maybe the graders were teaching assistants who worked for the teachers. Nope. I also remember thinking that anyone who was willing to be a member of the school board should be canonized, because it seemed that the only people ever asked tougher questions had probably been hoping to wind up a Supreme Court Justice.
But that's precisely what makes town meeting matter and why I honestly don't believe the tradition is going to disappear anytime soon: Public accountability. All of the town leaders and most of the town voters do their homework prior to the big day (or night) because everyone is watching.
Consequently, I haven't worried about the future of the town meeting over the last decade and a half when people have written its obituary. For years we have wondered whether increased state government combined with the demise of the isolated village the reality that most people now are likely to commute to work somewhere beyond the boundaries of (pick one) Wolcott or Tunbridge or Lincoln have conspired to make town meeting a quaint anachronism. But the reality is that in a place like Lincoln, town meeting still compels us as a community to make informed decision about how we are going to spend a sizable amount of our money. It demands that we think about issues as disparate as how many educators we have in our elementary school to what kind of trucks we want for our town. To wit: A fair amount of Lincoln's town meeting will be spent debating whether we want to buy a single axle truck with plow, wing, and sander ($130,000) or a tandem dump truck with plow, wing, and sander ($163,000). Trust me: I have NOTHING germane to add to that discussion. But I will listen and learn.
As a culture, Vermonters like both the aura of answerability that surrounds town meeting and the reality that if someone at the front of the room is ill-prepared, the meeting can deteriorate fast into blood sport.
The select board and the school board work diligently beforehand to be able to address whatever questions arise at the meeting, if only as a matter of survival.
And when we act like grownups and govern ourselves, it's all good even if, in the end, it's not all germane.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 28, 2010.)
With any luck, it will not be me who will be repsonsible for the most spectacularly bizarre non sequitur of the night. When I am seated in my chair at town meeting, I live in fear that some unstoppable force will compel me to stand up and say something ... not germane. It's sort of like that nightmare where you walk into a high school math class during finals completely naked. There is nothing more humiliating at town meeting than offering an observation that is not germane.
On the other hand, you can be absolutely certain that I won't be the one offering sage (or even germane) insights into backhoes, bridges, school budgets, or any of the other items in the town warning. For a guy who spends a lot of time speaking in public, I am way too terrified in town meeting to ever open my mouth.
It was over two decades ago when I attended my first town meeting in Vermont. I was in my mid-twenties then, a new kid in town who had just moved to Lincoln from Brooklyn, and I couldn't have told you the difference between a schoolteacher and a grader. I think I thought they were one in the same. Maybe the graders were teaching assistants who worked for the teachers. Nope. I also remember thinking that anyone who was willing to be a member of the school board should be canonized, because it seemed that the only people ever asked tougher questions had probably been hoping to wind up a Supreme Court Justice.
But that's precisely what makes town meeting matter and why I honestly don't believe the tradition is going to disappear anytime soon: Public accountability. All of the town leaders and most of the town voters do their homework prior to the big day (or night) because everyone is watching.
Consequently, I haven't worried about the future of the town meeting over the last decade and a half when people have written its obituary. For years we have wondered whether increased state government combined with the demise of the isolated village the reality that most people now are likely to commute to work somewhere beyond the boundaries of (pick one) Wolcott or Tunbridge or Lincoln have conspired to make town meeting a quaint anachronism. But the reality is that in a place like Lincoln, town meeting still compels us as a community to make informed decision about how we are going to spend a sizable amount of our money. It demands that we think about issues as disparate as how many educators we have in our elementary school to what kind of trucks we want for our town. To wit: A fair amount of Lincoln's town meeting will be spent debating whether we want to buy a single axle truck with plow, wing, and sander ($130,000) or a tandem dump truck with plow, wing, and sander ($163,000). Trust me: I have NOTHING germane to add to that discussion. But I will listen and learn.
As a culture, Vermonters like both the aura of answerability that surrounds town meeting and the reality that if someone at the front of the room is ill-prepared, the meeting can deteriorate fast into blood sport.
The select board and the school board work diligently beforehand to be able to address whatever questions arise at the meeting, if only as a matter of survival.
And when we act like grownups and govern ourselves, it's all good even if, in the end, it's not all germane.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 28, 2010.)
February 26, 2010
Chris's visit to the Book Studio to discuss SECRETS OF EDEN
Last week Chris was interviewed by Bethanne Patrick in the Book Studio. Bethanne is one of the best interviewers around, and once again she asked Chris some questions he had never been asked before.
The interview was about 7 minutes long. You can watch it here:
http://www.thebookstudio.com/blog/bet...
The interview was about 7 minutes long. You can watch it here:
http://www.thebookstudio.com/blog/bet...
February 23, 2010
This week's Idyll Banter: The forecast? Spring, eventually.
The great thing about having a father in Florida is that I always know the weather in Ft. Lauderdale. Whenever my father and I speak on the phone, he tells me the forecast, his gentle though not especially subtle way of reminding me that if I were to visit, I would be thanked with blue skies, 70 degree days, and a gentle breeze off the construction site outside his window that used to be a golf course. There is nothing like the cry of the Florida egret and the growl of the Florida backhoe.
Of course, he also reminds me of the weather here in Vermont. I am not making up the following exchange we had in early January:
DAD: It's snowing in Vermont! You should see the pictures on the news.
ME: I can see the pictures outside my front door.
DAD: You've gotten a foot of snow!
ME: I know. I just shoveled the walk.
DAD: It's 70 degrees here. No snow.
I mention this because, according to the calendar, spring is a mere month away. Here in the Land of the Polar Tomato - a.k.a., Vermont - it tends to arrive somewhat later. (Just ask my dad.)
Over the years, my wife has noticed that it is often around Mother's Day when, almost overnight, the grass in our corner of the Green Mountains is transformed from brown to green and the leaves on the trees abruptly unfurl. Nevertheless, these weeks at the end of February are among my favorite of the year - and not simply because when my father phones, I can reassure him that we've had a thaw and the snow is no longer taller than his granddaughter. (Yes, she is 16 years old, but she's still barely five feet tall.) The days are growing long once again: The day today, for example, is roughly the same length as it was back on October 22. In the next few weeks, there will be moments some afternoons when the sun will feel so warm on the front porch of my house that my wife and I will have lunch there and I will wonder whether it's time to pull my bicycle out of the shed.
Meanwhile, sugar makers will be putting their final taps in the trees and checking the long lengths of plastic tubing that link their hundreds (in some cases, thousands) of maples with their great white holding tanks. One year I tromped through the snow in the woods with my neighbors Don Gale and Evan Truchon while they were inspecting the taps in their sugarbush high in the woods where Lincoln and South Starksboro meet. At the time, there were only a few inches of snow remaining on my lawn, but the snow was still nearly thigh-high in the forest.
We all know that between this morning and the first day of spring, it will snow and there will be serious cold snaps. We may have a blizzard. (Again, just ask my dad.) I remember that it was the third week in March, 1993, while she was shoveling snow off the roof over our screened porch after a storm, that my wife realized with certainty that she was pregnant with our daughter. The home pregnancy test kit had said that morning that she wasn't pregnant, but with the conviction of an expectant mother, she decided she was.
In any case, any crocus that happens to push its way through the thawing ground between now and mid-April most likely will be pummeled by snow.
But I do savor this transitional period. I love the lengthening days and occasional balminess. I love the idea that we are all starting to emerge from our winter hibernation. And, yes, I love the weather reports that I'm getting from my dad.
I think it's time for a visit: I'll let you know the weather in South Florida.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 21, 2010.)
Of course, he also reminds me of the weather here in Vermont. I am not making up the following exchange we had in early January:
DAD: It's snowing in Vermont! You should see the pictures on the news.
ME: I can see the pictures outside my front door.
DAD: You've gotten a foot of snow!
ME: I know. I just shoveled the walk.
DAD: It's 70 degrees here. No snow.
I mention this because, according to the calendar, spring is a mere month away. Here in the Land of the Polar Tomato - a.k.a., Vermont - it tends to arrive somewhat later. (Just ask my dad.)
Over the years, my wife has noticed that it is often around Mother's Day when, almost overnight, the grass in our corner of the Green Mountains is transformed from brown to green and the leaves on the trees abruptly unfurl. Nevertheless, these weeks at the end of February are among my favorite of the year - and not simply because when my father phones, I can reassure him that we've had a thaw and the snow is no longer taller than his granddaughter. (Yes, she is 16 years old, but she's still barely five feet tall.) The days are growing long once again: The day today, for example, is roughly the same length as it was back on October 22. In the next few weeks, there will be moments some afternoons when the sun will feel so warm on the front porch of my house that my wife and I will have lunch there and I will wonder whether it's time to pull my bicycle out of the shed.
Meanwhile, sugar makers will be putting their final taps in the trees and checking the long lengths of plastic tubing that link their hundreds (in some cases, thousands) of maples with their great white holding tanks. One year I tromped through the snow in the woods with my neighbors Don Gale and Evan Truchon while they were inspecting the taps in their sugarbush high in the woods where Lincoln and South Starksboro meet. At the time, there were only a few inches of snow remaining on my lawn, but the snow was still nearly thigh-high in the forest.
We all know that between this morning and the first day of spring, it will snow and there will be serious cold snaps. We may have a blizzard. (Again, just ask my dad.) I remember that it was the third week in March, 1993, while she was shoveling snow off the roof over our screened porch after a storm, that my wife realized with certainty that she was pregnant with our daughter. The home pregnancy test kit had said that morning that she wasn't pregnant, but with the conviction of an expectant mother, she decided she was.
In any case, any crocus that happens to push its way through the thawing ground between now and mid-April most likely will be pummeled by snow.
But I do savor this transitional period. I love the lengthening days and occasional balminess. I love the idea that we are all starting to emerge from our winter hibernation. And, yes, I love the weather reports that I'm getting from my dad.
I think it's time for a visit: I'll let you know the weather in South Florida.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 21, 2010.)
February 21, 2010
This week's reviews of Secrets of Eden
This week's reviews of Secrets of Eden.
Thanks for reading!
"Suspenseful. . .searing. . .Bohjalian has written a literary murder mystery that hooks readers early and keeps its secrets until the end. . .Bohjalian's book is about the power of secrets and sacrifice and a warning against jumping to judgment. Those who doubt their faith, he writes, are sometimes the strongest among us."
—Amy Driscoll, The Miami Herald
"The eden of Chris Bohjalian’s new thriller is Haverill, Vt., where Stephen Drew is the minister at the Baptist church. And, as usual, there are more snakes lurking than meet the eye."
-- Amy Virshup, The New York Times
Thanks for reading!
"Suspenseful. . .searing. . .Bohjalian has written a literary murder mystery that hooks readers early and keeps its secrets until the end. . .Bohjalian's book is about the power of secrets and sacrifice and a warning against jumping to judgment. Those who doubt their faith, he writes, are sometimes the strongest among us."
—Amy Driscoll, The Miami Herald
"The eden of Chris Bohjalian’s new thriller is Haverill, Vt., where Stephen Drew is the minister at the Baptist church. And, as usual, there are more snakes lurking than meet the eye."
-- Amy Virshup, The New York Times
February 18, 2010
Win one of 50 paperbacks, or a complete library of my books, of 10 copies of SECRETS OF EDEN for your book group
Dear Goodreads Friends,
This Sunday, February 21, SECRETS OF EDEN will be # 6 on the New York Times bestseller list.
I am delighted – and grateful. SECRETS OF EDEN had such an extraordinary first two weeks because of all of you. You are the wondrous readers and booksellers who supported the book from day one. Thank you.
Now, one of the benefits of having a book on the bestseller list is that it means the novel is deeply discounted at many bookstores.
And to make sure there are plenty of party favors at this celebration, I want to thank you all in a big way.
And the thanks are open to anyone who has already purchased SECRETS OF EDEN and anyone who agrees to purchase the novel between now and 6 p.m. on Saturday, February 20 – in other words, when you are sure to save the most money.
All you have to do is post a comment on EITHER this blog post here on goodreads OR on the Secrets of Eden facebook group wall saying,
“I already bought my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN”
or
“I will stroll by a bookstore and buy my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN before this coming Saturday night.” (I trust you!) Please only post one time.
And what are the party favors?
1) One of you will receive ten signed hardcover copies of SECRETS OF EDEN for your book group.
2) One of you will receive a copy of all ten of my books in print – again, all signed.
3) Fifty of you will receive a signed paperback copy of SKELETONS AT THE FEAST or THE DOUBLE BIND or MIDWIVES.
In April we will randomly select the winners, reach out to them for their addresses, and send them their prizes on or around May 1.
In the meantime, thanks again for your faith in my work. You are all completely amazing.
Sincerely,
Chris B.
PS: Remember, all you have to do is post either of the following two comments on the SECRETS OF EDEN facebook wall: “I already bought my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN” or “I will stroll by a bookstore and buy my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN before this coming Saturday night.”
This Sunday, February 21, SECRETS OF EDEN will be # 6 on the New York Times bestseller list.
I am delighted – and grateful. SECRETS OF EDEN had such an extraordinary first two weeks because of all of you. You are the wondrous readers and booksellers who supported the book from day one. Thank you.
Now, one of the benefits of having a book on the bestseller list is that it means the novel is deeply discounted at many bookstores.
And to make sure there are plenty of party favors at this celebration, I want to thank you all in a big way.
And the thanks are open to anyone who has already purchased SECRETS OF EDEN and anyone who agrees to purchase the novel between now and 6 p.m. on Saturday, February 20 – in other words, when you are sure to save the most money.
All you have to do is post a comment on EITHER this blog post here on goodreads OR on the Secrets of Eden facebook group wall saying,
“I already bought my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN”
or
“I will stroll by a bookstore and buy my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN before this coming Saturday night.” (I trust you!) Please only post one time.
And what are the party favors?
1) One of you will receive ten signed hardcover copies of SECRETS OF EDEN for your book group.
2) One of you will receive a copy of all ten of my books in print – again, all signed.
3) Fifty of you will receive a signed paperback copy of SKELETONS AT THE FEAST or THE DOUBLE BIND or MIDWIVES.
In April we will randomly select the winners, reach out to them for their addresses, and send them their prizes on or around May 1.
In the meantime, thanks again for your faith in my work. You are all completely amazing.
Sincerely,
Chris B.
PS: Remember, all you have to do is post either of the following two comments on the SECRETS OF EDEN facebook wall: “I already bought my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN” or “I will stroll by a bookstore and buy my copy of SECRETS OF EDEN before this coming Saturday night.”
February 15, 2010
A particularly revealing audio interview
If you have nine minutes, this is a particularly revealing interview I did with Steve Bertrand for bn.com while I was in Chicago this past week:
http://media.barnesandnoble.com/index...
http://media.barnesandnoble.com/index...
February 14, 2010
Cold hands, warm heart on Valentine's Day.
It is Valentine's Day, 2007, and Suzanne Eikenberry, director of Montpelier Alive, is walking from her home in Montpelier, Vermont to the Statehouse so she can arrive in time for a live, 6 a.m. radio interview. And she isn't so much walking as she is trudging, because it has been snowing all night long and there is at least a foot and a half of snow on the ground and more continuing to fall.
But in the midst of all that Narnia-like whiteness, Eikenberry is struck instead by a wondrous swath of crimson that cuts through the monochromatic blizzard like a searchlight: A row of red hearts has been plastered to the windows of the Main Street businesses.
When she arrives at the Statehouse, she sees even larger hearts planted in the shoveled snow on the steps and wrapped around the great columns that mark the Statehouse's front entrance.
Eikenberry moved to Montpelier from Washington, D.C., the year before and this was her first Valentine's Day in the Vermont capital -- and her first exposure to the Phantom Valentine.
Every year since 2002, someone (or some people) descends upon the downtown in the small hours of Valentine's Day morning so that when the sun rises there will be thousands of red hearts festooning the city streets. "As I walked to the radio interview, I remember thinking, how does he do it? How did he get the hearts posted during the biggest blizzard in years?" Eikenberry recalls.
Claire Benedict, who with her husband owns the Bear Pond and Rivendell bookshops, saw the phantom's handiwork for the first time in 2003 and was instantly smitten. She and her family had just moved to Montpelier from Natick, Mass. "It's such a dreary season and the hearts are wonderful and cheerful. Everyone loves them," she says. "You'd have to be Scrooge not to love it. It's uplifting. It's why you live in a small city." Her store now sells a Phantom Valentine jigsaw puzzle -- an image of a giant banner of the heart the phantom somehow managed to drape from the Kellogg-Hubbard Library one year
Both Eikenberry and Benedict insist they are not the phantom Valentine (or one of the phantom's cohorts) and that they have absolutely no idea who the phantom is. Everybody in Montpelier I spoke to about the phantom was quite clear: Even if they knew the identity, it would take the rack or the iron maiden to get them to reveal it.
Some people didn't even like me asking them if they knew. Montpelier writer David Dobbs, author of "Reef Madness" and "The Northern Forest," says adamantly, "I wouldn't reveal my suspicions because part of the magic comes from not knowing who it is. There's also a sort of understood collusion among those who suspect they know not to reveal clues or suspicions or evidence. The phantom has been doing it a while now, yet the thrill of finding the town papered in valentines each Valentine's Day remains as strong as ever. In some ways, it's even sweeter, precisely because we don't know who it is: A sort of magic and mystery remain."
And if people do know? "We've agreed as a town not to reveal anything," Dobbs says. "It's as if we're protecting Santa Claus and our own J.D. Salinger at the same time."
In return, the phantom shares his love for the city by turning the downtown into one massive Valentine. "You're in the doldrums of winter," Eikenberry observes, "and then people get up and go out and they see these hearts everywhere. For a lot of people, Valentine's Day can be lonely and sad -- but not here. We have a romance between a city and a phantom."
This is precisely the sort of altruistic angel we could all use in our lives: A phantom far more likely to string paper hearts from a chandelier than send one crashing to a city stage.
Happy Valentine's Day.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 14, 2010.)
But in the midst of all that Narnia-like whiteness, Eikenberry is struck instead by a wondrous swath of crimson that cuts through the monochromatic blizzard like a searchlight: A row of red hearts has been plastered to the windows of the Main Street businesses.
When she arrives at the Statehouse, she sees even larger hearts planted in the shoveled snow on the steps and wrapped around the great columns that mark the Statehouse's front entrance.
Eikenberry moved to Montpelier from Washington, D.C., the year before and this was her first Valentine's Day in the Vermont capital -- and her first exposure to the Phantom Valentine.
Every year since 2002, someone (or some people) descends upon the downtown in the small hours of Valentine's Day morning so that when the sun rises there will be thousands of red hearts festooning the city streets. "As I walked to the radio interview, I remember thinking, how does he do it? How did he get the hearts posted during the biggest blizzard in years?" Eikenberry recalls.
Claire Benedict, who with her husband owns the Bear Pond and Rivendell bookshops, saw the phantom's handiwork for the first time in 2003 and was instantly smitten. She and her family had just moved to Montpelier from Natick, Mass. "It's such a dreary season and the hearts are wonderful and cheerful. Everyone loves them," she says. "You'd have to be Scrooge not to love it. It's uplifting. It's why you live in a small city." Her store now sells a Phantom Valentine jigsaw puzzle -- an image of a giant banner of the heart the phantom somehow managed to drape from the Kellogg-Hubbard Library one year
Both Eikenberry and Benedict insist they are not the phantom Valentine (or one of the phantom's cohorts) and that they have absolutely no idea who the phantom is. Everybody in Montpelier I spoke to about the phantom was quite clear: Even if they knew the identity, it would take the rack or the iron maiden to get them to reveal it.
Some people didn't even like me asking them if they knew. Montpelier writer David Dobbs, author of "Reef Madness" and "The Northern Forest," says adamantly, "I wouldn't reveal my suspicions because part of the magic comes from not knowing who it is. There's also a sort of understood collusion among those who suspect they know not to reveal clues or suspicions or evidence. The phantom has been doing it a while now, yet the thrill of finding the town papered in valentines each Valentine's Day remains as strong as ever. In some ways, it's even sweeter, precisely because we don't know who it is: A sort of magic and mystery remain."
And if people do know? "We've agreed as a town not to reveal anything," Dobbs says. "It's as if we're protecting Santa Claus and our own J.D. Salinger at the same time."
In return, the phantom shares his love for the city by turning the downtown into one massive Valentine. "You're in the doldrums of winter," Eikenberry observes, "and then people get up and go out and they see these hearts everywhere. For a lot of people, Valentine's Day can be lonely and sad -- but not here. We have a romance between a city and a phantom."
This is precisely the sort of altruistic angel we could all use in our lives: A phantom far more likely to string paper hearts from a chandelier than send one crashing to a city stage.
Happy Valentine's Day.
(This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 14, 2010.)
February 12, 2010
Great news -- thanks to all of you!
Secrets of Eden debuts on a variety of bestseller lists:
* The New York Times at # 6
* Publishers Weekly at # 6
* National Indie List at # 10
* New England Booksellers Association at # 3
I thank you all so much!
* The New York Times at # 6
* Publishers Weekly at # 6
* National Indie List at # 10
* New England Booksellers Association at # 3
I thank you all so much!
