BOOKSTRUCK: Sarah-Jane Stratford

Bookstruck-LogoThere are always the usual suspects in considering books that changed my life. Books like Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale aroused and infuriated me, keeping me energized and focused on the ongoing fight for human rights and true equality under the law. Deep readings of Twelfth Night and the first half of The Winter’s Tale led me to explore the complexity and elasticity of relationships and the curious bittersweetness that must always play some part in our lives, even in our greatest joy. And Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia awoke me to the poetry of regret and the foolish futility to which we’re so prone – the desperate need to assert some sort of control in our worlds, internal and external, and the way that need, when enacted, is more than likely going to turn around and land us in a much bigger proverbial paddle-less place.

But the book that really changed me, that affected not just my heart and mind, but set me on a whole new journey, was wholly unexpected: Eric Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation. I read it with a zooming pulse and churning stomach, staying up late several nights because there was no putting it down – and certainly no getting to sleep. I’ve always been political, and I’ve never cared for processed food or the corporate industry that supports fast food, but that book both educated me and coalesced several strands of my politics, jump-starting my impassioned environmentalism, which was an immediate and obvious fit with my lifelong feminism. It was disturbing and upsetting, but galvanizing. It turned me into a fierce and fearless environmental activist, determined to paint not just the town, but the world, green. I’d love to write a book that lights such a fire under readers (burning on responsibly sourced wood, natch), but what I love about Fast Food Nation’s ongoing hold on me is that it continues to make me think – and fight – well outside myself.

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Sarah-Jane Stratford is the author of two imaginative, suspenseful historical novels (with vampires at their heart): The Midnight Guardian and The Moonlight Brigade. She is also writes on politics, feminism, the environment, theater, and where they all collide, for SlateThe Guardianand other publications. You can follow her on Twitter and find her on Facebook. She lives in New York City.

Book hyperlinks courtesy of Powell’s Books, Portland, Oregon.

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Celebrating Books…and the Imagination

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One great thing about being a writer living in a town that still has an independent bookstore: You both get to be immortalized in a mural on the wall of your local elementary school!

Here I am (along with the Village Bookstore‘s owners Roy and Yvonne) in a small portion of a huge “communities” mural painted by the extraordinary Gregory Nemec. (Greg also created the Diamond Ruby baseball card I’ve sent to countless readers and book clubs during the past three years.) The rest of the mural, which I’ll feature in another post, mixes real-life local “celebrities” with characters from children’s books. This is probably the only time I’ll ever be sharing space with Sam-I-Am, the Big Friendly Giant, Charlotte, Lowly Worm, Dorothy, Mary Poppins, Tinker Bell, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, etc.

(I’ve decided that the books I’m carrying include Caroline Leavitt’s Is This Tomorrow, Kate Atkinson’s Life After Life, Erika Robuck’s Call Me Zelda, and Tim Hallinan’s Crashed.)

Love of home, love of books, love of art. Every school district should be smart enough to hire someone like Greg to turn a plain wall into a celebration.

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My Five Simple Rules for Meeting An Editor

linguini_tomato_sauceAs an itinerant writer for thirty years now, I’ve had the chance to meet a lot of editors face-to-face for the first time. Through trial and error (mostly error), I’ve learned that the experience can be vastly more fulfilling and productive if I just remember some simple behavioral guidelines.

You probably already know all this, but here they are anyway:

5) When your first meeting takes place in your editor’s office, pay attention to what she’s saying, not to the books on her shelves. 

This seems obvious, but it’s harder to do than it sounds. If you’re anything like me–and I bet you are–you’re fascinated by what other people have on their bookshelves. This is especially true when you’re at a publishing house (books everywhere!) and even more so when you’re intensely curious as to what other books your editor has shepherded to publication.

Taking a few glances at the shelves is fine, but don’t forget to listen as well. Saying, “What?” too often may lead to a loss of faith.

4) Take the time to seek out and greet your editor’s assistant. 

Again, if your experience is like mine, you’ll have been interacting closely via email or phone with this editorial assistant or assistant editor long before you meet her in person. Almost always, these assistants are young people who love books and believe in publishing. This is worth celebrating, and at the very least a cheerful greeting and your thanks.

3) Search for things you have in common. 

See Number 4. You wouldn’t all be here–writer, editor, assistant–if you all didn’t love books. Likely you share other interests as well, interests you didn’t discover in terse emails. (For example, if your publisher is in New York, it’s quite likely that either you or your editor–or both–grew up in/currently live in Brooklyn. Common ground!)

2) Remember that you and your editor are on the same side. 

This seems obvious, but in these tumultuous times in publishing, sometimes it’s hard to remember. Nobody’s perfect–writer, editor, or publishing company–but the first face-to-face meeting is no time to let your fears spill out. You and your editor are going to be working closely together for months and years, and side by side is a lot better than in opposition.

1) If you’re meeting for lunch, order food that allows you to concentrate on the conversation.

This is crucial, because it can be a stealth attack on an otherwise successful first meeting. That overstuffed, oozy sandwich might look delicious on the menu, but do you want it dripping from your fingers as you maneuver it towards your mouth? Not to mention trying to eat it without looking like a gaping shark? And if you’re thinking of ordering the linguine with red sauce, please reconsider…especially if you’re wearing a white shirt. The talk is what matters, so order something that’s easy to eat.

That’s it. Though give me thirty more years, and I’ll probably have five more.

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My MWF Collection: Biography

secrets-of-the-fleshFor the forthcoming Marmaduke Writing Factory Collection at the Mount Pleasant Public Library.

Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette, by Judith Thurman.  I tend to be drawn to biographies of men (see the rest of my list), for reasons best known to a therapist. However, the life of Colette is an exception on so many levels. Thurman is a precisely evocative writer, an approach that suits her subject here perfectly. France, Paris, erotic schoolgirls, bisexuality, fashion, brave transformations and literary creation: what’s not to like?

James Joyce, by Richard Ellmann.  This is considered one of the greatest, definitive cradle-to-grave biographies. Brilliant evocation of the life and an equally brilliant interfacing of the life with the work of, perhaps, the most innovative English language prose stylist of the 20th century. I read it in high school and it has remained my standard ever since.

W. B. Yeats, A Life. I: The Apprentice Mage 1865-1914, by R. F. Foster.  Sticking to the Irish theme (I am half-Irish and went to Trinity College, Dublin for two years), this is an excellent biography of the great Irish poet. His deep involvement in the tumultuous Irish politics of the time shaped the passion of his poetry and plays. He lived a remarkable public life while creating some of the most creative and demanding literature of the 20th century. This book takes the life up to Yeats at 50.

Evelyn Waugh: The Later Years 1939-1966, Martin Stannard.  This volume follows Stannard’s Evelyn Waugh: The Early Years 1903-1939. Waugh, the author of novels such as Vile Bodies, Scoop, and Brideshead, revisited, is such an acerbic, funny and complicated character and this biography, written in an addictive, lively British high style, is a delicious read. One good line among many: “Cooking the facts was Waugh’s specialty.”

Burt Lancaster: An American Life, by Kate Buford.  This is my own book, but it has been described, not by me, as one of the best books about Hollywood. I wanted take the measure of this under-rated movie star who broke the star mold by playing against type before that was the norm — and ran the most successful star-driven independent production company in Hollywood during the pivotal decade of the 1950s.

Native American Son: The Life and Sporting Legend of Jim Thorpe, by Kate Buford.  Also one of my own biographies. Thorpe was the greatest multi-sport athlete we’ll ever see and stepped onto the field when sports in America were in their infancy. I wanted to understand the roots of our current obsession with sports and that took me right back to Thorpe and the early days of football, baseball and the Olympics and their impact on our culture.

The River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt’s Darkest Journey, by Candice Millard.  This is a terrific example of the new direction of biography: the “slice” of a life, rather than the cradle-to-grave tome. Millard’s book takes us up an Amazonian river with TR and his son Kermit in 1913, when TR’s political career was over. The trip is plagued by unbelievable and life-threatening disasters, leading to TR’s realization that, in Time’s words, “To save his son … he would have to let his son save him.”

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic and Madness and the Fair That Changed America, by Erik Larson.  This book, not exactly a biography, is just so damn good it isn’t funny so I’ll use it here. The parallel narratives – a serial sexual killer and the building of the “White City” of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair – make for a dynamic and often seriously creepy tightrope-read.

Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley, by Peter Guralnick.  I am hooked on biographies/books about American popular music. Anything by Elijah Wald is a must-read; Greil Marcus, too, though he’s so Totally Berkeley it can be tough going. Guralnick is more accessible and this book, which covers the first and best 24 years of Elvis’s life (before he was drafted into the army), is essential reading for any American or American wannabe.

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Book hyperlinks courtesy of Politics & Prose Bookstore, Washington, DC.

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Oranges Are Not the Only Book

Red_AppleI was recently part of a Facebook conversation about the writer Don Winslow, author of Savages and California Fire and Life.  I said that I preferred Winslow’s books about soulful, aging surfers trying to figure out how to keep their lives meaningful (The Dawn Patrol, The Gentlemen’s Hour) to his books about hot, hip twenty-somethings trying to do good in the world while having lots of sex and dealing drugs (Savages, The Kings of Cool.)

(Can you tell which books I prefer by the way I describe them?)

Anyway, the man whose page I was visiting told me that I shouldn’t state a preference because the two Winslow series are “apples and oranges.”  I hear that concept a lot when discussing books—that choosing one form, one genre, one set of themes over another is invalid because, after all, they’re different. And therefore not comparable.

This got me thinking. Why aren’t we allowed to respond more strongly to one kind of book than to another, simply because they’re “apples and oranges”? (Note that I didn’t say Winslow’s surfer series was “better,” just that I gravitate towards it.) Taken to its extreme, doesn’t this attitude mean that we can never like any book more than any other…because isn’t each book as different as each snowflake?

This seems silly. I think that having such preferences is what lies at the heart of loving to read: The fact that some books leave us cold while others keep us awake until three in the morning–and that we rarely know going in which will happen. (If either.) It’s a complex chemical reaction in our brains that’s a lot like the function of our taste buds when we’re trying a new food, or a new bite of a familiar one.

So I think I’ll go on reacting to–and comparing–each apple and each orange as I go along. And each book as well. I can’t imagine I’m the only one.

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BOOKSTRUCK: Michael S. Roth

Bookstruck-LogoI teach Madame Bovary, a book that has been a drug in my blood for a very long time. Why? I quote a few passages from the recent Lydia Davis translation:

After the ball, Emma returns to her dull life:

Reverently she put away in the chest of drawers her beautiful dress and even her satinshoes, whose soles had been yellowed by the slippery wax of the dance floor. Her heart was like them: contact with wealth had laid something over it that would not be wiped away. 48

As the affair with Rodolphe starts:

She said to herself again and again: “I have a lover! A lover!” reveling in the thought as though she had come into a second puberty. At last she would possess those joys of love, that fever of happiness of which she had despaired. She was entering something marvelous in which all was passion, ecstasy, delirium. 142

Rodolphe prepares the note to drop Emma:

But once the pen was in his hand, he could not think of anything… 176

Indeed, these women, flocking into his thoughts all at the same time, impeded and diminished one another, as though by the sameness of his love. …his pleasures, like school children in a schoolyard, had so trampled his hert that nothing green grew there…177

 The driver of the carriage in which Leon and Emma are having sex:

[The driver] could not understand what mania for locomotion was compelling these individuals to refuse to stop. 217

I’ll stop, but it hurts to do so. There are so many delicious sentences that give pleasure even as they remind one that the pursuit of pleasure (at least outside of art) is doomed to trivialization, cliché and disappointment. I’ve taught the novel dozens of times, and I still am thrilled by it. That’s why I can laugh as I quote from the master’s letters:

“Passion does not make verses; and the more personal you are, the weaker… The less you feel a thing, the more capable you are of expressing it as it is ..But one must be able to make oneself feel it. The faculty is simply, genius: the ability to see, to have the model posing there before you.” (Letter to Louise Colete, July 6, 1852)

“To have talent, you must be convinced that you possess it; and to keep your conscience pure you must set it above everybody else’s. The way to live serenely, in clean, fresh air, is t install yourself on some pyramid, no matter which, provided it be lofty and have a solid foundation. Ah! It isn’t always “amusing” up there, and you are absolutely alone; but there is some consolation in spitting from so high a place.” (Letter to Louise Colete, May 29, 1852)

I first read Flaubert at Wesleyan. Teaching it here now is wonderful!

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Michael Roth is the president of Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut, where he also teaches. He is the author of Memory, Trauma, and History: Essays on Living With the Past (Columbia University Press 2011) and a frequent contributor to the Huffington Post and The Chronicle of Higher Education. (Click on the links for some of his articles in each publication.) His thoughtful, insightful Wesleyan blog can be found here.

Book hyperlinks courtesy of Broad Street Books, Middletown, Connecticut, and Columbia University Press.

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My MWF Collection: Books That Invent Writing Anew

ADeathintheFamilyFor the new MWF Book Collection at the Mount Pleasant Public Library, Westchester, New York.

A Death in the Family, by James Agee—For one of the most powerful examples of using specific details to render universal experience.

Continental Drift, by Russell Banks—For bringing together two wholly believable worlds, one hot and one cold, and letting the force detonate.

Collected Poems, Elizabeth Bishop—For using words like gems, flinty and light-catching, and only as many as she can afford.

As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner—For his perfect combination of form and function.

The Ebony Tower, John Fowles—For his rounded creation of a world that had me wholly suspending disbelief.    Read more »

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