Beth Neff's Blog - Posts Tagged "getting-somewhere"
You're an Artist
Writing *blink*
Read a paragraph or page from one of your favorite books. Pay attention to the use of words, the lengths of sentences, the choices of verbs and metaphors. Now write a paragraph imitating this exact style. Make the subject different but try to ‘hear the voice.’ What’s hard about it? What, of your own writing style wants to creep in? Listen carefully because that’s probably YOUR voice. (Note: this is not plagarism. You’re not going to try to copy another author’s writing and pretend it’s your own. Think of it as how the great masters of the Renaissance required their apprentices to copy the master’s work again and again until they had honed their skills.)
Read a paragraph or page from one of your favorite books. Pay attention to the use of words, the lengths of sentences, the choices of verbs and metaphors. Now write a paragraph imitating this exact style. Make the subject different but try to ‘hear the voice.’ What’s hard about it? What, of your own writing style wants to creep in? Listen carefully because that’s probably YOUR voice. (Note: this is not plagarism. You’re not going to try to copy another author’s writing and pretend it’s your own. Think of it as how the great masters of the Renaissance required their apprentices to copy the master’s work again and again until they had honed their skills.)
Out of the corner of your eye
New writing *blink*
Collect ten gestures. Watch people in your school, office, at the bus station or grocery store. (Be discreet – no staring, please.) Observe how they move their bodies, perform gestures, make facial expressions depending on their reactions to whatever is going on around them. Just write these down and keep them for future use or build a story around them. Don’t use words that describe feelings – just rely on the descriptions to convey the emotions.
Collect ten gestures. Watch people in your school, office, at the bus station or grocery store. (Be discreet – no staring, please.) Observe how they move their bodies, perform gestures, make facial expressions depending on their reactions to whatever is going on around them. Just write these down and keep them for future use or build a story around them. Don’t use words that describe feelings – just rely on the descriptions to convey the emotions.
Or maybe a musician!
Writing *blink*
Have you ever heard of a riff? It's a blues concept, a variation on a musical theme. It's the idea of staying true to a general set of rules (timing, key, etc.) while letting the imagination go within those parameters. Just like writing, right?
Okay, here's the exercise:
Choose an object. Study it, observe everything about it and then use the written word to describe it. In other words, create a riff. Ask questions. Do you and this object have some history together, some associations? A story? Write from any perspective, even that of the object itself. A riff on everything to do with this object.
Have you ever heard of a riff? It's a blues concept, a variation on a musical theme. It's the idea of staying true to a general set of rules (timing, key, etc.) while letting the imagination go within those parameters. Just like writing, right?
Okay, here's the exercise:
Choose an object. Study it, observe everything about it and then use the written word to describe it. In other words, create a riff. Ask questions. Do you and this object have some history together, some associations? A story? Write from any perspective, even that of the object itself. A riff on everything to do with this object.
You might need to *blink* twice at this one!
Freeze frame – describe an event that occurred recently with as few adjectives as possible, no added emotion or response. Simply say what happened with short sentences, attention to detail but no flowery description. It doesn’t even have to be a significant event, might be better if it’s not. This is from your point of view.
Now, consider writing the same event from the perspective of someone else. Or write it in a different tense, sprucing up your descriptions, nailing them down, as you go. Have fun! And send me your results - they may be posted at www.bethneff.com!
Now, consider writing the same event from the perspective of someone else. Or write it in a different tense, sprucing up your descriptions, nailing them down, as you go. Have fun! And send me your results - they may be posted at www.bethneff.com!
Put it in its place
Did you do last week's 'freeze frame' *blink*? Now, instead of an event, write about a place. Be short, direct, accurate, no flowery language necessary. And you don't have to be describing Niagara Falls or the Grand Canyon. Maybe you just want to talk about your kitchen counter or the path out to your mailbox. In any case, pay close attention and try to include observations from the perspective of all your senses. If you're still enjoying yourself, change tense and go again.
And, don't forget, you can send your results to me at authorbethneff (at) gmail (dot) com and I might comment or post (if you want me to.) Keep it fun!
And, don't forget, you can send your results to me at authorbethneff (at) gmail (dot) com and I might comment or post (if you want me to.) Keep it fun!
Who Are We Writing For?
The audience. That’s the big ‘if,’ isn’t it? Who is the target audience? Who will read what we’ve written, tell other people about it, participate in Goodreads discussions and share postings on their Facebook pages?
It starts with a label, of course: YA, contemporary, sci fi, magical realism. The list is long. But it’s considered important to communicate – articulate – what it is that defines this product, who will be attracted to it, and then find a way to sell it to them.
Any marketing strategy requires achieving the proverbial balance between something familiar and something unique. If one author hits the big time with vampire romance, you can be sure that a blitz of vampire romances will follow. But the new ones have to be different enough to avoid saturation, copy-cattedness, creative stagnation. It’s a game, certainly, a crap shoot in some ways. And it’s most assuredly ruled by the marketplace, the almighty dollar. You can’t be a ‘success’ without it. You can’t get published again without it. You can’t pay the electric bill without it.
I’m not knocking book sales. I want them and need them as much as the next author. It’s just that, if we operate exclusively from this perspective, write from this perspective, we become purveyors of a product, can find ourselves determining audience by consumption and the promise of ‘value’ – as in ‘getting your money’s worth,’ or ‘entertainment value.’
But what else might fall under that broad and somewhat intangible ‘value umbrella?’
This is where my story comes in.
This week, a bookstore in my area (thanks, Kazoo Books) arranged for me to visit a private juvenile detention center. It’s called ‘an academy.’ The kids are there by court order, spending anywhere from six months to a year-and-a-half in the program. They’re not there by choice but whatever value they might derive is by their own volition. They can participate or resist but the consequences, as explained to me by the director, are primarily peer-driven. I had no idea what any of the girls had done to get there, only learned a bit about the circumstances of their lives from what they told me while I was there.
Some of the girls in the group arranged for my visit had read my book. A few others had read part of it. The discussion was lively, dynamic, challenging, fun. In fact, it was one of the most stimulating experiences I’ve had in a long time, certainly the most rewarding in direct relationship to my fairly embryonic writing career. Why?
The main reason was that the story I had written provided an excellent opportunity for engagement. It also allowed us to digress a bit into issues that were of particular interest and importance to the audience (teen pregnancy, the juvenile criminal system, lesbian experience.) The girls liked talking about the story. They had questions I hadn’t considered. They made suggestions I wished I’d thought of. But, more than anything, they found the story real. It made sense to them. The characters felt authentic. The results of the characters’ choices seemed, if sometimes disappointing, at lot like what might happen in the world they were familiar with.
One girl said that it was the best book she’d ever read.
No member of this particular ‘audience’ had paid a penny out of her own pocket for the book. Not one had read a review, knew the reputation of my publisher, had met any other authors to compare me to. And that made their opinions more valuable to me than anything else I have so far experienced.
I left in an exhilarated daze. We all could have spent a lot more time together and that was a great way to end. I hope I get to go back. I wish I could follow up on what happens next in their lives but I know that’s not going to happen. I think they might agree that they’d like to follow up with mine.
The point is that, among those girls whose futures are about as up-in-the-air as any teenager’s can be, I found a critical component of my audience. Far outside and beyond the marketplace, we found valuable points of connection.
They, and anyone else who is motivated to think more, feel more, discuss more, evaluate more, are the audience I care most about. They are who I’m writing for.
It starts with a label, of course: YA, contemporary, sci fi, magical realism. The list is long. But it’s considered important to communicate – articulate – what it is that defines this product, who will be attracted to it, and then find a way to sell it to them.
Any marketing strategy requires achieving the proverbial balance between something familiar and something unique. If one author hits the big time with vampire romance, you can be sure that a blitz of vampire romances will follow. But the new ones have to be different enough to avoid saturation, copy-cattedness, creative stagnation. It’s a game, certainly, a crap shoot in some ways. And it’s most assuredly ruled by the marketplace, the almighty dollar. You can’t be a ‘success’ without it. You can’t get published again without it. You can’t pay the electric bill without it.
I’m not knocking book sales. I want them and need them as much as the next author. It’s just that, if we operate exclusively from this perspective, write from this perspective, we become purveyors of a product, can find ourselves determining audience by consumption and the promise of ‘value’ – as in ‘getting your money’s worth,’ or ‘entertainment value.’
But what else might fall under that broad and somewhat intangible ‘value umbrella?’
This is where my story comes in.
This week, a bookstore in my area (thanks, Kazoo Books) arranged for me to visit a private juvenile detention center. It’s called ‘an academy.’ The kids are there by court order, spending anywhere from six months to a year-and-a-half in the program. They’re not there by choice but whatever value they might derive is by their own volition. They can participate or resist but the consequences, as explained to me by the director, are primarily peer-driven. I had no idea what any of the girls had done to get there, only learned a bit about the circumstances of their lives from what they told me while I was there.
Some of the girls in the group arranged for my visit had read my book. A few others had read part of it. The discussion was lively, dynamic, challenging, fun. In fact, it was one of the most stimulating experiences I’ve had in a long time, certainly the most rewarding in direct relationship to my fairly embryonic writing career. Why?
The main reason was that the story I had written provided an excellent opportunity for engagement. It also allowed us to digress a bit into issues that were of particular interest and importance to the audience (teen pregnancy, the juvenile criminal system, lesbian experience.) The girls liked talking about the story. They had questions I hadn’t considered. They made suggestions I wished I’d thought of. But, more than anything, they found the story real. It made sense to them. The characters felt authentic. The results of the characters’ choices seemed, if sometimes disappointing, at lot like what might happen in the world they were familiar with.
One girl said that it was the best book she’d ever read.
No member of this particular ‘audience’ had paid a penny out of her own pocket for the book. Not one had read a review, knew the reputation of my publisher, had met any other authors to compare me to. And that made their opinions more valuable to me than anything else I have so far experienced.
I left in an exhilarated daze. We all could have spent a lot more time together and that was a great way to end. I hope I get to go back. I wish I could follow up on what happens next in their lives but I know that’s not going to happen. I think they might agree that they’d like to follow up with mine.
The point is that, among those girls whose futures are about as up-in-the-air as any teenager’s can be, I found a critical component of my audience. Far outside and beyond the marketplace, we found valuable points of connection.
They, and anyone else who is motivated to think more, feel more, discuss more, evaluate more, are the audience I care most about. They are who I’m writing for.
Sustaina ... what?
The short bio included on the cover of my book and in all the publicity material says I have worked, among other things, as a sustainability activist. Not surprisingly, a few people I’ve met at bookstores and schools have asked me what this means.
At first, I felt a little uncomfortable talking about it, not because I’m not proud of my previous accomplishments or have anything to hide. It’s simply that I felt it had little to do with who I am now, the author persona I’m presently wearing, the novel I have written.
And then I realized that none of that is really true. Sustainability IS what I’m doing now. Less than I would have expected has really changed in the transition from activism to fiction writing. I’m still talking about many of the same things, still making the same points.
Let me explain. First, I need to say that sustainability is not just about lasting a long time as in ‘it’s not sustainable to spend more than you earn’ or ‘it’s not sustainable to keep burning fossil fuels.’ These things may very well be true and the concept of sustainability does require that actions and behaviors are able to be sustained over the long haul. But it goes a little further than that.
Sustainability is often described (among those of us who actually find a need to describe it) as a three-legged stool. A stool needs three legs to stand on and can’t function without all of them. This interconnectedness is critical. And, specifically, each leg of the stool stands for something. One is environmental responsibility. A second is economic justice (not suprisingly often mistaken, particularly in business jargon, to mean anything that helps a product or service promote itself.) And the third is social equity. Without all three, the stool can’t stand.
The idea is, of couse, that the ‘yardstick’ of sustainability can be used as a criterea for how we determine our actions, both personally and as a society. It’s a measured accounting – not just financial – of the both short and long-term impact and benefit resulting from decisions. No decision can proceed unless the stool stands balanced and steady.
When I think about the book I’ve written, I realize that sustainability exists, for me, as a core belief system that I use to measure not only the social contract all of us are a part of (whether we wish to be or not) but also as a tool to evaluate emotional and psychological well-being. This is simply another way of saying that what we often refer to as a social ‘safety net’ is a big part of sustainability. The people who have fallen through the net, or stretched its limits, the people who are stressed emotionally, pressed economically, the places that are crumbling structurally, are a symptom of a wobbling stool where one or more of the legs have broken down.
What we’re really talking about is resources, tangible and intangible, how we access them (fairly,) how we utilize them, our relationships with them. Sustainable culture attends to the distribution of resources in all its manifestations – environmental resources like land and fuel, food and conserved spaces, ecological diversity; economic resources (which instantly echo those of the first list;) and social resources such as families and communities, education, mental and physical health.
It turns out that, in caring for and about Sarah, Cassie, Lauren and Jenna, however fictional they may be, I am doing much the same work I have always done.
At first, I felt a little uncomfortable talking about it, not because I’m not proud of my previous accomplishments or have anything to hide. It’s simply that I felt it had little to do with who I am now, the author persona I’m presently wearing, the novel I have written.
And then I realized that none of that is really true. Sustainability IS what I’m doing now. Less than I would have expected has really changed in the transition from activism to fiction writing. I’m still talking about many of the same things, still making the same points.
Let me explain. First, I need to say that sustainability is not just about lasting a long time as in ‘it’s not sustainable to spend more than you earn’ or ‘it’s not sustainable to keep burning fossil fuels.’ These things may very well be true and the concept of sustainability does require that actions and behaviors are able to be sustained over the long haul. But it goes a little further than that.
Sustainability is often described (among those of us who actually find a need to describe it) as a three-legged stool. A stool needs three legs to stand on and can’t function without all of them. This interconnectedness is critical. And, specifically, each leg of the stool stands for something. One is environmental responsibility. A second is economic justice (not suprisingly often mistaken, particularly in business jargon, to mean anything that helps a product or service promote itself.) And the third is social equity. Without all three, the stool can’t stand.
The idea is, of couse, that the ‘yardstick’ of sustainability can be used as a criterea for how we determine our actions, both personally and as a society. It’s a measured accounting – not just financial – of the both short and long-term impact and benefit resulting from decisions. No decision can proceed unless the stool stands balanced and steady.
When I think about the book I’ve written, I realize that sustainability exists, for me, as a core belief system that I use to measure not only the social contract all of us are a part of (whether we wish to be or not) but also as a tool to evaluate emotional and psychological well-being. This is simply another way of saying that what we often refer to as a social ‘safety net’ is a big part of sustainability. The people who have fallen through the net, or stretched its limits, the people who are stressed emotionally, pressed economically, the places that are crumbling structurally, are a symptom of a wobbling stool where one or more of the legs have broken down.
What we’re really talking about is resources, tangible and intangible, how we access them (fairly,) how we utilize them, our relationships with them. Sustainable culture attends to the distribution of resources in all its manifestations – environmental resources like land and fuel, food and conserved spaces, ecological diversity; economic resources (which instantly echo those of the first list;) and social resources such as families and communities, education, mental and physical health.
It turns out that, in caring for and about Sarah, Cassie, Lauren and Jenna, however fictional they may be, I am doing much the same work I have always done.
Summer Reading List
My younger daughter asked me for some reading suggestions for her break between college and graduate school so I decided to put together a Summer Reading List. These are a few of the great books I’ve enjoyed over the past couple of years. I’ll admit that I’m skipping over books that have already earned their own hype (anything by George R.R. Martin, Suzanne Collins, Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain – though all of these are extremely enjoyable.) I’ll also mention that virtually anything by Chris Bohjalian, Anne Tyler, Richard Russo, Annie Proulx or E.L. Doctorow is likely to be absolutely worth reading so I’m not going to put their individual books on my list. I also haven’t included anything I’ve already reviewed on Goodreads (I don’t think!)
Michael Chabon – The Yiddish Policeman’s Union: What if Alaska had become a homeland for the Jews after WWII as FDR apparently suggested? This dark comedy provides the answer in perfect noir style with engaging characters, a complex yet always entertaining plot and enough twists and turns to qualify as a Sherlock Holmsian mystery. A real treat.
Carol Edgarian – Rise the Euphrates: Three generations of women descended from a survivor of the 1915 Turkish massacre of Armenians. A perfect capsule of immigrant experience and a beautiful treatment of questions of family, identity, and the way history lives within us.
T.C. Boyle – The Tortilla Curtain: T.C. Boyle has the most amazing way of addressing serious social issues through the eyes of complex, deeply wrought characterizations. These two families – one white and wealthy, the other Mexican immigrants living below the radar – represent and embody an intersection of culture and experience that we, as a society, have only begun to recognize or understand. Vivid, heartfelt without excessive pathos, rendered in sharp detail, this book may be Boyle’s best – and that is really saying something!
Julia Glass – Three Junes: Under Glass’s pen, characters come alive in a way that makes her books nearly glow with intensity and scrutiny. She is in their heads and even minor characters are beautifully developed and real. Three sections, three connected ‘leads,’ every word leaving us hungry for more. Just lovely.
Joyce Carol Oates – We Were the Mulvaneys: Few writers can render familial associations, nuances, and disasters as authentically as Joyce Carol Oates. With some kind of mystical force, Oates makes us care passionately about what might be considered mundane or even overblown events in the lives of a well-heeled family who are forced to watch the foundation of their happiness crumble from underneath them. It’s almost impossible to turn away, even for a moment, in fear of missing any detail of the saga.
Adam Haslett – Union Atlantic: In this extremely keen observation of what is ostensibly a conflict over land use, Haslett gives us three wonderful characters: a retired history teacher who just may collapse under the weight of her moral obligation, a savvy businessman whose apparent disregard for community would, in a much simpler story, make him an obvious antagonist, and a boy who straddles the web between them. Smart, contemporary and classic in the best sense.
Sadie Jones – Small Wars: There can be no war without casualties and this story expands the definition of that concept, pulling us into the personal tragedy that always accompanies the social one. At the center of this taut novel is a marriage and from there reverberates the trauma of dangerous lives, the immense pressure of moral decisions and the resiliance – or lack thereof – of human nature. Intense, fast-paced, authentic.
Louis Sachar – The Cardturner: Who would have thought that a story about bridge – yes, the card game – could have such punch? Sachar has created two endearing and memorable characters, young and old, seeing and blind, wise and yearning and then asks us to discern, in some ways, which is which! Both my teenaged son and I adored this book and talked about it, and the game of bridge, for a long time after.
Jess Walter – Citizen Vince: Walter has written a very sharp and witty character study embraced by a crime thriller – a perfect combination. Vince crosses all the assumed lines between criminal and victim, hero and loser, and takes us for a wonderful ride while we figure it out. Highly entertaining and also a sparkling contemporary commentary.
Nicole Krauss – The History of Love: If this title seems a bit on the expansive side, it is simply because Nicole Krauss has actually succeeded in the claim. Her book is a cross-decades saga, centered around a manuscript (or several?) of the same name, that ties a contagious cast of characters together in their disease of enamorato. One of the most engaging and intriguing novels I’ve ever read.
Barbara Kingsolver – The Lacuna: Okay, yes. I’m a Barbara Kingsolver groupie. The Lacuna may even be as good as The Poisonwood Bible and similar in the way that it captures culture and history through the experiences of highly magnetic characters. In this story, some of the characters are even ‘real’ and add a layer of fascination even beyond Kingsolver’s usual impeccable storytelling and political savvy.
Carol Cassella – Oxygen: Think Jodi Picoult-like contemporary medical/legal conflict and then step it up a notch with flawless writing, a captivating first-person narrator/main character and a traumatic event-based plot and you might come close to describing this excellent book. Cassella is, like her main character, an anesthesiologist which puts the final touch on a novel where every word rings true.
David Wroblewski – The Story of Edgar Sawtelle: This is a big book, both literally and figuratively, yet I still had trouble putting it down, ended up reading it all the way through in one barely-interrupted sitting. The story revolves around Edgar, a boy born mute who has a special relationship with the unusual and mystically brilliant dogs his family raises. Events which cause Edgar great grief, guilt, and confusion drive him into a backwoods/personal journey that rivals any in literature. Oprah chose it and I don’t blame her. Waiting for Wroblewski’s next effort.
Stefan Merrill Block – The Story of Forgetting: While on the surface a classic tale of boy-meets-and-befriends-old-man, The Story of Forgetting succeeds beautifully in making this universal relationship unique and, well, unforgettable. Seth Waller’s mother is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and the stress and horror of this experience bring him to the doorstep of the recluse Abel Haggard, enabling them both to endure the complex burdens of both remembering and forgetting.
Allen Kurzweil – The Case of Curiosities: Occasionally a book will manage to amaze you with just the sheer brilliance of the author’s complex imagination, the depth of knowledge revealed between the pages, the artistry of storytelling. The Case of Curiosities is just such a book. Set in 18th century France, this is less an historical novel than a detailed portrait of a life where every daub of paint is both vivid and fascinating. An entertaining and sometimes hilarious read.
Ann-Marie McDonald – The Way the Crow Flies: By the time I finished this book, I could hardly believe that Ann-Marie McDonald wasn’t one of the most famous and popular writers on the planet. This book is truly a masterpiece in the way that it captures a critical moment in history (the Cuban missile crisis from a Canadian perspective) through the eyes of a witty, naive observer, eight-year-old Madeleine, whose own secrets echo those of her military father. A further gift of the novel is the opportunity to observe Madeleine some twenty years later as she visits her therapist and struggles to process the events of her childhood. Truly remarkable. (I just have to add that McDonald’s first book, Fall on Your Knees, is almost equally as awesome. These are books I wish I hadn’t read so I could read them again for the first time!)
Ann Patchett – Bel Canto: This is just simply one of the best contemporary novels I know of. Militant guerillas in some unnamed South American country take hostages at a party where the president was supposed to have been a guest and isn’t but a very famous opera singer is. The guerilla leader is so taken aback by the singer’s performance that he is subsequently confused about how to proceed. Thus follow long days in which the various guests, from all over the world and brought together by an incredibly sharp and endearing translator, begin to wonder if they would actually rather be somewhere else. Absolutely mesmerizing.
Michael Chabon – The Yiddish Policeman’s Union: What if Alaska had become a homeland for the Jews after WWII as FDR apparently suggested? This dark comedy provides the answer in perfect noir style with engaging characters, a complex yet always entertaining plot and enough twists and turns to qualify as a Sherlock Holmsian mystery. A real treat.
Carol Edgarian – Rise the Euphrates: Three generations of women descended from a survivor of the 1915 Turkish massacre of Armenians. A perfect capsule of immigrant experience and a beautiful treatment of questions of family, identity, and the way history lives within us.
T.C. Boyle – The Tortilla Curtain: T.C. Boyle has the most amazing way of addressing serious social issues through the eyes of complex, deeply wrought characterizations. These two families – one white and wealthy, the other Mexican immigrants living below the radar – represent and embody an intersection of culture and experience that we, as a society, have only begun to recognize or understand. Vivid, heartfelt without excessive pathos, rendered in sharp detail, this book may be Boyle’s best – and that is really saying something!
Julia Glass – Three Junes: Under Glass’s pen, characters come alive in a way that makes her books nearly glow with intensity and scrutiny. She is in their heads and even minor characters are beautifully developed and real. Three sections, three connected ‘leads,’ every word leaving us hungry for more. Just lovely.
Joyce Carol Oates – We Were the Mulvaneys: Few writers can render familial associations, nuances, and disasters as authentically as Joyce Carol Oates. With some kind of mystical force, Oates makes us care passionately about what might be considered mundane or even overblown events in the lives of a well-heeled family who are forced to watch the foundation of their happiness crumble from underneath them. It’s almost impossible to turn away, even for a moment, in fear of missing any detail of the saga.
Adam Haslett – Union Atlantic: In this extremely keen observation of what is ostensibly a conflict over land use, Haslett gives us three wonderful characters: a retired history teacher who just may collapse under the weight of her moral obligation, a savvy businessman whose apparent disregard for community would, in a much simpler story, make him an obvious antagonist, and a boy who straddles the web between them. Smart, contemporary and classic in the best sense.
Sadie Jones – Small Wars: There can be no war without casualties and this story expands the definition of that concept, pulling us into the personal tragedy that always accompanies the social one. At the center of this taut novel is a marriage and from there reverberates the trauma of dangerous lives, the immense pressure of moral decisions and the resiliance – or lack thereof – of human nature. Intense, fast-paced, authentic.
Louis Sachar – The Cardturner: Who would have thought that a story about bridge – yes, the card game – could have such punch? Sachar has created two endearing and memorable characters, young and old, seeing and blind, wise and yearning and then asks us to discern, in some ways, which is which! Both my teenaged son and I adored this book and talked about it, and the game of bridge, for a long time after.
Jess Walter – Citizen Vince: Walter has written a very sharp and witty character study embraced by a crime thriller – a perfect combination. Vince crosses all the assumed lines between criminal and victim, hero and loser, and takes us for a wonderful ride while we figure it out. Highly entertaining and also a sparkling contemporary commentary.
Nicole Krauss – The History of Love: If this title seems a bit on the expansive side, it is simply because Nicole Krauss has actually succeeded in the claim. Her book is a cross-decades saga, centered around a manuscript (or several?) of the same name, that ties a contagious cast of characters together in their disease of enamorato. One of the most engaging and intriguing novels I’ve ever read.
Barbara Kingsolver – The Lacuna: Okay, yes. I’m a Barbara Kingsolver groupie. The Lacuna may even be as good as The Poisonwood Bible and similar in the way that it captures culture and history through the experiences of highly magnetic characters. In this story, some of the characters are even ‘real’ and add a layer of fascination even beyond Kingsolver’s usual impeccable storytelling and political savvy.
Carol Cassella – Oxygen: Think Jodi Picoult-like contemporary medical/legal conflict and then step it up a notch with flawless writing, a captivating first-person narrator/main character and a traumatic event-based plot and you might come close to describing this excellent book. Cassella is, like her main character, an anesthesiologist which puts the final touch on a novel where every word rings true.
David Wroblewski – The Story of Edgar Sawtelle: This is a big book, both literally and figuratively, yet I still had trouble putting it down, ended up reading it all the way through in one barely-interrupted sitting. The story revolves around Edgar, a boy born mute who has a special relationship with the unusual and mystically brilliant dogs his family raises. Events which cause Edgar great grief, guilt, and confusion drive him into a backwoods/personal journey that rivals any in literature. Oprah chose it and I don’t blame her. Waiting for Wroblewski’s next effort.
Stefan Merrill Block – The Story of Forgetting: While on the surface a classic tale of boy-meets-and-befriends-old-man, The Story of Forgetting succeeds beautifully in making this universal relationship unique and, well, unforgettable. Seth Waller’s mother is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and the stress and horror of this experience bring him to the doorstep of the recluse Abel Haggard, enabling them both to endure the complex burdens of both remembering and forgetting.
Allen Kurzweil – The Case of Curiosities: Occasionally a book will manage to amaze you with just the sheer brilliance of the author’s complex imagination, the depth of knowledge revealed between the pages, the artistry of storytelling. The Case of Curiosities is just such a book. Set in 18th century France, this is less an historical novel than a detailed portrait of a life where every daub of paint is both vivid and fascinating. An entertaining and sometimes hilarious read.
Ann-Marie McDonald – The Way the Crow Flies: By the time I finished this book, I could hardly believe that Ann-Marie McDonald wasn’t one of the most famous and popular writers on the planet. This book is truly a masterpiece in the way that it captures a critical moment in history (the Cuban missile crisis from a Canadian perspective) through the eyes of a witty, naive observer, eight-year-old Madeleine, whose own secrets echo those of her military father. A further gift of the novel is the opportunity to observe Madeleine some twenty years later as she visits her therapist and struggles to process the events of her childhood. Truly remarkable. (I just have to add that McDonald’s first book, Fall on Your Knees, is almost equally as awesome. These are books I wish I hadn’t read so I could read them again for the first time!)
Ann Patchett – Bel Canto: This is just simply one of the best contemporary novels I know of. Militant guerillas in some unnamed South American country take hostages at a party where the president was supposed to have been a guest and isn’t but a very famous opera singer is. The guerilla leader is so taken aback by the singer’s performance that he is subsequently confused about how to proceed. Thus follow long days in which the various guests, from all over the world and brought together by an incredibly sharp and endearing translator, begin to wonder if they would actually rather be somewhere else. Absolutely mesmerizing.
Who Do YOU Identify With?
To identify with: to associate or affiliate (oneself) closely with a person or group as in Most young readers of The Catcher in the Rye will readily identify (or identify themselves) with Holden Caulfield.
Online Free Dictionary.
You’ve heard it a hundred times, young adult literature assessed by the opportunity the book provides for teenagers to ‘identify’ with the characters. My question is: why is this so important and what do we hope to achieve by it? More importantly, is ‘identification’ really the goal and, if not, what is?
Identity is a complicated issue. We have a tendency to simplify it (how surprising!,) to imagine that it can be broken down to a particular characteristic, to a set of experiences. If a person identifies as female or gay or Latino or underprivileged, we go on to imagine that this one characteristic is a defining aspect of that person’s ‘identity.’ Even if we could agree (and we can’t) that it makes sense for a person to have just one important aspect of his or her identity, can we then extrapolate that this same person is likely to identify most strongly with others who also fall into the category? Can dark-skinned people only identify with other dark-skinned people? Jews with Jews? Adolescents with other adolescents?
Certainly when we are dealing with whole categories of people that have been ignored or minimized by literature, it is only natural to celebrate opportunities for that identifying characteristic to move to center stage, for characters who exhibit such features to win a place as actors in narrative, for their particular experiences to receive notable attention. At the same time, I think it’s dangerous to assume that anyone, maybe especially young adults, should be encouraged to believe that, in order to ‘identify’ with a character or a story, that the characters must look exactly like them or have experiences which echo their own. That is the opposite of empathy.
Let’s look at international literature for a moment. There has been a well-deserved blossoming of stories from other countries populating library and bookstore shelves lately. We now – finally – have rather wide access to novels in which the main characters are from India or Iraq or Thailand, where we are exposed to the unique (to us) experiences of young people raised in Islamic families or growing up on central African cattle ranches. One reason these books are so important is that they allow our world to expand, provide insight into traditions and cultures and lifestyles that differ from our own. They allow us, in essence, to broaden the definition of ‘identification,’ to allow for the very real and critical understanding that empathy absolutely must transcend existing boundaries, must go beyond the groups we presently belong to and that have a tendency to solidify our moral ground, if it is to have positive impact on the world.
Don’t we, then, in some ways limit the reach of empathy if we make our goal association or affiliation with those we already know are like us? And don’t we also patronize to our most vulnerable and non-white, non-heterosexual, non-middle class, non-male readers if we suggest that their process of identification is best achieved through characters and narratives that mirror most closely their own experience? Isn’t this saying that the entire body of literature, that which, by this definition, fails to provide identifying opportunities, is ‘not for them?’
It’s insulting, to say the least, truly dangerous if taken to its fullest extremes. Obviously, literature must contain a wide diversity of characters. Gaps must be filled, attention must be paid to a broad range of identities, focus must be on voices that often go unheard. There is nothing wrong with identification but it doesn’t quite go far enough. If we truly want to utilize the identification process as a path toward empathy (which I certainly think we do,) then we can’t behave as if the best or even a good way to achieve that is for people to read mostly about themselves, even for those people who don’t fit into the dominant group (again, white, privileged, straight, northern.)
I realize that there are already plenty of books out there about the ‘dominants’ and it makes sense to try to expand the selection. I did that myself with Getting Somewhere. But even though I’m extremely glad to provide a literary outlet for teens who may be questioning gender identity or those who have found themselves on the wrong side of the law, I also hope that teens who do not fall into either of these categories will be able to empathize with my characters and their experiences.
Identification, in and of itself, cannot be the primary goal for young adult literature. If it is, if we don’t focus on empathy instead, we not only patronize to young people but also lose an enormous opportunity. I would rather that we encourage kids – all kids – to read about every kind of person in every kind of circumstance. Let’s try to move beyond prejudice, even that which is often self-imposed, and ask not if characters share our experiences but if we are capable of imagining sharing theirs.
Online Free Dictionary.
You’ve heard it a hundred times, young adult literature assessed by the opportunity the book provides for teenagers to ‘identify’ with the characters. My question is: why is this so important and what do we hope to achieve by it? More importantly, is ‘identification’ really the goal and, if not, what is?
Identity is a complicated issue. We have a tendency to simplify it (how surprising!,) to imagine that it can be broken down to a particular characteristic, to a set of experiences. If a person identifies as female or gay or Latino or underprivileged, we go on to imagine that this one characteristic is a defining aspect of that person’s ‘identity.’ Even if we could agree (and we can’t) that it makes sense for a person to have just one important aspect of his or her identity, can we then extrapolate that this same person is likely to identify most strongly with others who also fall into the category? Can dark-skinned people only identify with other dark-skinned people? Jews with Jews? Adolescents with other adolescents?
Certainly when we are dealing with whole categories of people that have been ignored or minimized by literature, it is only natural to celebrate opportunities for that identifying characteristic to move to center stage, for characters who exhibit such features to win a place as actors in narrative, for their particular experiences to receive notable attention. At the same time, I think it’s dangerous to assume that anyone, maybe especially young adults, should be encouraged to believe that, in order to ‘identify’ with a character or a story, that the characters must look exactly like them or have experiences which echo their own. That is the opposite of empathy.
Let’s look at international literature for a moment. There has been a well-deserved blossoming of stories from other countries populating library and bookstore shelves lately. We now – finally – have rather wide access to novels in which the main characters are from India or Iraq or Thailand, where we are exposed to the unique (to us) experiences of young people raised in Islamic families or growing up on central African cattle ranches. One reason these books are so important is that they allow our world to expand, provide insight into traditions and cultures and lifestyles that differ from our own. They allow us, in essence, to broaden the definition of ‘identification,’ to allow for the very real and critical understanding that empathy absolutely must transcend existing boundaries, must go beyond the groups we presently belong to and that have a tendency to solidify our moral ground, if it is to have positive impact on the world.
Don’t we, then, in some ways limit the reach of empathy if we make our goal association or affiliation with those we already know are like us? And don’t we also patronize to our most vulnerable and non-white, non-heterosexual, non-middle class, non-male readers if we suggest that their process of identification is best achieved through characters and narratives that mirror most closely their own experience? Isn’t this saying that the entire body of literature, that which, by this definition, fails to provide identifying opportunities, is ‘not for them?’
It’s insulting, to say the least, truly dangerous if taken to its fullest extremes. Obviously, literature must contain a wide diversity of characters. Gaps must be filled, attention must be paid to a broad range of identities, focus must be on voices that often go unheard. There is nothing wrong with identification but it doesn’t quite go far enough. If we truly want to utilize the identification process as a path toward empathy (which I certainly think we do,) then we can’t behave as if the best or even a good way to achieve that is for people to read mostly about themselves, even for those people who don’t fit into the dominant group (again, white, privileged, straight, northern.)
I realize that there are already plenty of books out there about the ‘dominants’ and it makes sense to try to expand the selection. I did that myself with Getting Somewhere. But even though I’m extremely glad to provide a literary outlet for teens who may be questioning gender identity or those who have found themselves on the wrong side of the law, I also hope that teens who do not fall into either of these categories will be able to empathize with my characters and their experiences.
Identification, in and of itself, cannot be the primary goal for young adult literature. If it is, if we don’t focus on empathy instead, we not only patronize to young people but also lose an enormous opportunity. I would rather that we encourage kids – all kids – to read about every kind of person in every kind of circumstance. Let’s try to move beyond prejudice, even that which is often self-imposed, and ask not if characters share our experiences but if we are capable of imagining sharing theirs.
I could use your help...
READ THIS! THE WRITERS RETREAT FOR EMERGING LGBT VOICES (quoted directly from the Lambda Donor Pages appeal)
By far one of the most important initiatives the Lambda Literary Foundation undertakes is to support up-and-coming writers. In the long run, maybe it’s LLF's most important job. The Foundation does so through The Writers Retreat for Emerging LGBT Voices – this year in Los Angeles, July 28 - August 4. After 5 years of existence, the Retreat has earned a sterling reputation, and for good reason.
The Retreat is unlike any other writing program in the world. It’s the only residency established specifically for promising LGBT writers. Classes are taught by a brilliant and diverse faculty, themselves all successful LGBT writers. The sad truth is, many who want to come to the Retreat just can’t afford it. Though some scholarship money is offered, it does not cover all costs to ensure the very best aspiring lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender writers can attend. They need your support today. Your contribution to help send a talented emerging writer to Los Angeles this summer is critical.
The “Retreat” – a misnomer, really, since one former student delighted in calling it a “queer writers’ boot camp” – gathers LGBT writers from every walk of life for one rigorous, immersive week. Lives are changed. Students arrive with manuscripts in hand, a novel or short story collection, a book of poetry or a memoir, a mystery or young adult novel that will soon extend the fabric of our literature. At “boot camp” they polish their craft. They work on plot, develop more convincing characters and explore their own distinctive voices. Teaching is personalized. They gain a better understanding of what works and what might need re-working. Besides one-on-one instruction, students forge connections to publishing industry professionals, and most importantly, build a community of peers on whom they’ll depend for years of encouragement, inspiration and friendship.
A writer’s life is full of challenges. Lambda’s emerging voices Fellows come from big cities and rural towns all over America. In many of these places the LGBT community is still under a lot of pressure, subtle and not-so-subtle. When a writer is committed to our queer literary traditions – to stories of unconventional lives and social struggle, to girl-meets-girl and first gay love – work becomes so much harder in isolation. Your gift today will give a talented LGBT writer a real chance for professional growth and personal achievement. Our Lambda Fellows go on to achieve an impressive record of publication and community involvement. They are both prolific artists and ambassadors of the literary arts.
Your generous donation to a student's tuition, room and board will give these shining artists a leg up in their careers, and – not a small side benefit! – it will empower them as agents of social change. Remember, they’re the ones who’ll be telling our stories and continuing our fight for LGBT equality and freedom.
You can make a direct, meaningful difference in the life of a writer by making a tax-deductible contribution to send an emerging writer to Los Angeles this summer for what will undoubtedly be an experience of a lifetime.
Thank you!
GO HERE!
http://lambdaliterary.donorpages.com/...
By far one of the most important initiatives the Lambda Literary Foundation undertakes is to support up-and-coming writers. In the long run, maybe it’s LLF's most important job. The Foundation does so through The Writers Retreat for Emerging LGBT Voices – this year in Los Angeles, July 28 - August 4. After 5 years of existence, the Retreat has earned a sterling reputation, and for good reason.
The Retreat is unlike any other writing program in the world. It’s the only residency established specifically for promising LGBT writers. Classes are taught by a brilliant and diverse faculty, themselves all successful LGBT writers. The sad truth is, many who want to come to the Retreat just can’t afford it. Though some scholarship money is offered, it does not cover all costs to ensure the very best aspiring lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender writers can attend. They need your support today. Your contribution to help send a talented emerging writer to Los Angeles this summer is critical.
The “Retreat” – a misnomer, really, since one former student delighted in calling it a “queer writers’ boot camp” – gathers LGBT writers from every walk of life for one rigorous, immersive week. Lives are changed. Students arrive with manuscripts in hand, a novel or short story collection, a book of poetry or a memoir, a mystery or young adult novel that will soon extend the fabric of our literature. At “boot camp” they polish their craft. They work on plot, develop more convincing characters and explore their own distinctive voices. Teaching is personalized. They gain a better understanding of what works and what might need re-working. Besides one-on-one instruction, students forge connections to publishing industry professionals, and most importantly, build a community of peers on whom they’ll depend for years of encouragement, inspiration and friendship.
A writer’s life is full of challenges. Lambda’s emerging voices Fellows come from big cities and rural towns all over America. In many of these places the LGBT community is still under a lot of pressure, subtle and not-so-subtle. When a writer is committed to our queer literary traditions – to stories of unconventional lives and social struggle, to girl-meets-girl and first gay love – work becomes so much harder in isolation. Your gift today will give a talented LGBT writer a real chance for professional growth and personal achievement. Our Lambda Fellows go on to achieve an impressive record of publication and community involvement. They are both prolific artists and ambassadors of the literary arts.
Your generous donation to a student's tuition, room and board will give these shining artists a leg up in their careers, and – not a small side benefit! – it will empower them as agents of social change. Remember, they’re the ones who’ll be telling our stories and continuing our fight for LGBT equality and freedom.
You can make a direct, meaningful difference in the life of a writer by making a tax-deductible contribution to send an emerging writer to Los Angeles this summer for what will undoubtedly be an experience of a lifetime.
Thank you!
GO HERE!
http://lambdaliterary.donorpages.com/...
