Short stories and glory

by Lauren

Twice this week, I spent my evenings at Symphony Space, soaking in culture at some great literary events. On Monday, I was lucky enough to see Emma Donoghue for the second time—rather than doing a reading, this time she was discussing the fabulous Room with Michael Cunningham. Then on Wednesday, Jim and I went to the Selected Shorts program’s evening with Colum McCann, who I’ve also had the privilege of seeing before. If you feel about Let the Great World Spin and McCann’s work in general as we do, you’ll be happy to hear that the series is actually recorded for radio broadcast, so you can listen to it here. On this particular night, Colum McCann hosted Amy Ryan reading his story “Everything in This Country Must” (from the collection of the same name that first introduced me to one of my favorite writers!), Mary-Louise Parker reading “(She Owns) Every Thing” by Anne Enright, and Michael Cerveris reading Nathan Englander’s “Free Fruit for War Widows.” It was a phenomenal performance all around, and I think I’ll be attending far more of these events in the future. As Jim said, Mary-Louise Parker should read everything.

Tucked into the program I found a flyer for the Selected Shorts Writing Contest, which I thought might be right for some of you. The 2011 Stella Kupferberg Memorial Short Story Prize with guest judge Jennifer Egan will result in a $1000 prize for the winner, whose story will be read as part of a Selected Shorts performance and recorded for possible broadcast. Plus Jennifer Egan saying you’re worthy is no small thing in itself. The deadline is March 1st, and you can read the rules here. Anyone planning to submit? If so, good luck!

I mean, if Taylor Swift likes it....

by Rachel S.

A couple of weeks ago, one of my friends passed on this website hosted by Scholastic, called You Are What You Read. Intrigued (obviously), I promptly investigated. Scholastic invented a brand new word on which to base their project:

bookprint [book-print] noun: The list of books that leave an indelible mark on our lives, shaping who we are and who we become.

Okay, so as cheesy as it might sound, it’s actually a pretty cool idea. To readers, books really are an incredibly important part of who we are. The purpose of reading is to further your understanding of both the world and yourself and to see meaning in what before may have been unremarkable or elusive. That books can shape perception as well as action is a truth that needs no expansion. There are some books that I’ve read time and time again, each time as enjoyable as the last. Others I’ll get through only once, but these too can stick with me, usefully popping up for new situations or discussions forever after.

Personal and internal importance aside, books are often also a way of connecting to others- whether it’s in a mutual love or excitement over a particular tome or a fierce disagreement. While choosing only 5 is a really difficult task (so many choices- immediately overwhelmed!), once the books have been narrowed down, you can see who else has been similarly affected by the same words.

Also interesting are the lists of popular titles. The “Most Listed" list differs from the “Most Liked” in parts- obviously you don’t have to necessarily like a book to be marked by it.

I’m really interested to know what your “bookprint” would be if you could only have 5. Also, would it matter that Bill Clinton values The Invisible Man or that Taylor Swift was affected by Charlotte’s Web (or that Daniel Radcliffe’s life was changed by Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone…)? Because they all have profiles and Scholastic is conveniently making it easy for your favorite famous people to show you that they like reading, too.

In any case, I really enjoyed exploring the site (though I’m still working on my own list!) and if nothing else, there’s little I like more to look at then lots and lots of book covers all lined up.

The Austen question

by Stephanie

As a former college undergraduate who majored in English literature, I was never too far removed from the world of Jane Austen. Hers are novels that are firmly situated in the literary canon, and rightfully so. Her writing is more than well-known for its ability to weave elegant moral thought with comically ironic plot turns that prove to be not only witty but profound as well.

So I was interested to see this article at BBC News regarding a three-year-long study that suggests that someone else was heavily involved in the editing process of Austen’s manuscripts, namely an editor who worked for her publisher, John Murray II. This is a pretty big revelation, and indeed one that could incite both discussion and derision. Some could argue that the claim diminishes Austen’s prowess, making her writing not the product of her own talent, but rather something from an editor’s red pen. In other ways, as the article suggests, it could stand as an indicator of Austen’s openness to trying new things with her writing.

Either way, it’s interesting to think that new discoveries can still be made two hundred years after a book is published.

Halloween horror

by Jim

Less than a week to go until Halloween, the best holiday of all time. Keep your fireworks, July 4th. I don’t need your candy canes, Christmas. I just want some candy corn, a scary movie, and the chance to see people wear crazy costumes and wander around.

I love a good scare. Admittedly, I go from zero to terrified pretty quickly and have been known to sleep with the lights on for days at a time when something really gets to me. But that’s never stopped me from going back for more.

I’ve said before (and maintain) that I’m looking for great horror novels. They’re not easy to find for a few reasons. There are no cheap scares in books—you can’t have a “gotcha” moment. So the suspense needs to be built, the discomfort seeded, and the terrifying aspects need to develop fully enough to stay with you as you turn each page.

As many folks know, House of Leaves is one of my favorite books. As the narrator begins to come apart, the narrative itself does as well. The author removes the safety net, and you realize that anything could happen. I still remember the act of reading one passage—how scared I was, and how hard it was to shake the feeling of being watched that the book implanted.

I’m also a big Shirley Jackson fan. Whether it’s the horror that people do in The Lottery or how convincingly spooky We Have Always Lived in the Castle is, she’s a master of unsettling.

Stephen King was pretty much my hero growing up. Looking back, some of his books don’t hold together as well as others. Let us never speak of Gerald’s Game. But when he’s on, no one can come near him. He has such an exceptional eye for what people are afraid of, and he can zero in on the most disturbing of our feelings. Whether it’s the viral fallout of The Stand, the killer clown of It, or the psychopathic fan of Misery, his great talent is in exploring (and exploiting) just what it is about these things that we find so terrifying.

What are your favorite scary books? And what’s the scariest?

Who would you want to be?

by Jane

So October 31st is a date I can never forget because it is my father’s birthday. It’s also Halloween, though, and a time when we all, young and old, at least think about who or what we might want to dress up as. Last week I saw a list of the most sought after costumes for this coming Halloween and guess who was at the top? Lady Gaga, of course.

But that and these two blog entries that Lauren forwarded to me made me think about what literary character from a book—fiction or non-fiction—I would want to be if I were to don a costume this year.

It didn’t take long for me to choose Cleopatra. After all with Stacy Schiff’s upcoming book Cleopatra: A Life being touted everywhere and given the queen’s fabulous make-up and clothes, becoming her for a few hours would be great fun. The question would be whether my husband, Steve, would agree to be Mark Antony?

I wonder what literary characters our readers would like to be and why; so please join the Halloween fun and let me hear from you.

The price of prizes....

by Miriam

Years ago I found myself positively gleeful at the news that Oscar Hijuelos had won a Pulitzer for his gorgeous novel, The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love. I’d not long before finished reading the book and was foisting it upon everyone and anyone—people would read it just to shut me up. Of course, part of my delight was due to the fact that Hijuelos was (and is) Cuban American, as am I. The prize seemed to validate not just my wonderful reading experience but also Hijuelos’ and my shared cultural memories and references.

A few days ago, I was thrilled to hear about another prize won by a Latin American author. This time, it was Mario Vargas Llosa’s Nobel, a prize that eluded him for decades—long after his arch-nemesis Gabriel Garcia Marquez won it and proceeded to rub it in his face at every gathering of illustrious Spanish speaking novelists (okay, maybe this just happens in my imagination and the first congratulatory phone call Mario received was from Gabriel).

On the one hand, it seems silly that these prizes (and their siblings, the Booker, the National Book Award, etc.) should in any way influence our regard for these authors. On the other, check out what the indefatigably witty Adam Gopnik says about this laudatory season.

Do prizes make you pick up books (or avoid them)? Do they influence how you view certain authors? Are you above such trifles?

The thing about writers....

by Miriam

It’s been my experience that writers (especially great writers) seem to see-saw between outsize egomania and despondent insecurity. But, as this delightful excerpt from Hunter S. Thompson’s job application demonstrates, they tend to be wittier than the average Joe at expressing both of those states (and all the ones in between).

What are your favorite examples of writerly arrogance (or self-deprecation)?


via The Millions

Cookbook heaven

by Stacey

I love cookbooks. Mostly because I love food. Having worked on many amazing cookbooks over the years, I enjoyed seeing this eclectic list that Epicurious.com compiled for their 15th anniversary of their favorite cookbooks since 1995. It's nice to see our own Alice Medrich's Chocolate and the Art of Low-Fat Desserts, which Jane represents, as their #1 pick! There are some classics, and some familiar faces (no Rachael Ray?!), and of course it's such a small sampling of the many wonderful books available. Enjoy looking at these, and I hope they inspire you to cook something fun and different, or at least to read some of the books listed, even if you don't actually have time to cook -- one of my favorite pastimes, especially with four little ones at home!

The persistence of memory?

by Jessica

Yesterday someone asked me what novels I’d read while on vacation. I thought for a moment and rattled off three: Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss; Zoe Ferraris’ City of Veils; Evelyn Waugh’s Men at Arms. Hours later, I realized that I’d completely forgotten two others: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell and Aiding and Abetting by Muriel Spark. It’s true that I liked both and loved neither, but they were not so forgettable as to merit oblivion. I wish I could blame my literary amnesia on the impending arrival of a second baby (I am mightily pregnant and soon to deliver) but my ability to forget plotlines, characters, surprise endings, etc. predates the lethe-like mix of hormones now coursing through my bloodstream, and indeed motherhood period.
The year I moved to Cairo, I kept a journal that for some six months included a running tally of the books I read. Perusing the list, it is clear that the recall problem is not a recent one. It seems I’ve been forgetting books for much of my professional life. (Books I read as a child or in college/graduate school, however, have proven to be stickier.) And yet ironically, before I paused to remember all the books I forgot, I believed I had a good memory. Perhaps I’ve conveniently forgotten all evidence to the contrary.

Which is why I was so relieved to read James Collins’ essay in this past Sunday’s NYTBR, “The Plot Escapes Me.”  Like Collins, there are books I clearly remember loving, and yet when I am called upon to reconstruct the storyline, or a particular character, I’m at a loss. The good news is that at least one expert believes that the experience of reading is not so evanescent as we might fear, that the books we devour, adore and forget are not simply lost. Collins quotes Marianne Wolf, professor of child development at Tufts, who says that although we may not have instant recall, “The information you get from a book is stored in networks. We have an extraordinary capacity for storage, and much more is there than you realize. It is in some way working on you even though you aren’t thinking about it.”

I’d like to believe this is true, that some legacy of what we read persists, but rather worry that it isn’t. What do you think? Do the books we read affect us, even if we can’t remember them?

The parenting shelf

by Stacey

I get a newsletter from The Skinny Scoop about all kinds of parenting topics, and this post made me think about parenting books and how many we buy and either don't read, or read a chapter of and file it away. In our new house which is sorely lacking bookshelf space (see Lauren's photo of my book closet), I took a precious shelf and dedicated it to parenting books I've bought or received over the years. It runs the gamut from fertility books to pregnancy books to baby naming books to taking care of baby books, and finally (lucky us!) to books about having and raising twins. Many didn't make a lasting impression, and some turned me off completely with their alarmist and ultra conservative advice, but there are definitely a few I've passed on (mostly about sleep training) like The Baby Sleep Solution, which helped us get our twins sleeping through the night in a flexible way, and Twinspiration, a smart, realistic guide for parents of twins which should get a prize for most clever title.

What are your favorite parenting books, and which ones did you hate?

Sob stories

by Rachel

During my last semester of college, I took a “filler class” to complete the philosophy credits of my degree. Philosophy of Art was the name of the course, and topics such as expressionism, moral and aesthetic value, and artistic taste were studied. One question that continually arose during the course was what we really meant when we said a work of art was “good”. Some students agreed that a work of art was “good”, or held significant value, if it was simply aesthetically pleasing. Other students believed that emotion needed to be play a part when art was being evaluated. “Good art,” it was argued, held significant value if it moved an audience.

In Philosophy, there never seems to be a “right” answer to any argument, but I finished the course believing that the emotional connection we have with a masterpiece—the feelings we take away with us after watching a play, looking at a painting, or reading a book—is what gives significant value to art. That’s not to say that aesthetic value is overlooked, but in my opinion, what separates the extraordinary from the average is that extraordinary work has the ability to move us and change our ways of thinking.

Many times have I found myself sobbing like a baby while reading a tragic novel. I remember finding a copy of Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood in the back of my brother’s car and reading it from start to finish with tears for every alternate chapter. Murakami was able to help the reader dive into an anxious and uneasy world by way of his young characters and touch on topics such as lost love, mental illness, and death. Other sad and memorable novels I love are The Awakening by Kate Chopin (the last page left me distraught for days), and of course, John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. Time and again I’ve tried to read Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, but this novel seems to be a little too depressing for me to finish. My favorite writers are those who are able to lure me into their fictional worlds, usually by writing books that make me cry!

Over at the Huffington Post, Jason Pinter gave us the responses from a question he asked on Twitter about books that made readers cry. And although I complain that some novels may be too emotionally-charged to read, I love a good tear jerker and would love to hear what books moved you and had you reaching for the tissues.

Location, location, location

by Rachel

One of the things I loved about living in San Francisco was its close proximity to Steinbeck country. No more than two hours south of the city lies Monterey, where Steinbeck set the scene for his novels Cannery Row, Tortilla Flat, Of Mice and Men, East of Eden—the list goes on. Walking along Cannery Row while smelling the ocean and hearing the gulls, or driving half an hour inland to Salinas (where the National Steinbeck Center is located) was an exciting pilgrimage for me, because, if I haven’t mentioned it before, John Steinbeck is my number one literary hero.

So, I found it fascinating to read Alison Flood’s article from the Guardian, on literary book tours. What a thrill it is to visit locations mentioned in your favorite novels! I have a few favorite New York literary hotspots I like to visit on occasion: The carousel in Central Park (J.D. Salinger’s Catcher In The Rye); Macy’s Santaland (David Sedaris’ Holidays on Ice); Pete’s Tavern (O. Henry’s Gift of The Magi), and Chinatown, Tiffany & Co., and The New York Public Library (Truman Capote’s Breakfast At Tiffany’s).

What are some memorable locations from your favorite books you’d love to visit?

Growing up is hard to do

by Stephanie

The other day, Jim and I were engaging in some friendly conversation about pop culture of the 90s, but when I drew a blank on a reference, his disgust was tangible: “My God. How young are you?” In truth, Jim’s frankness led me to consider my own place in the wonderfully unnerving process of growing up in all its forms. Whatever “growing up” even means.

So while I faced the reality of my own Generation Y status, I took some solace in reading this piece on the Book Bench blog, in which Macy Halford gives her take on the literary interpretation of the emerging adult. In it, Halford offers seven novels that provide a unique window to the dramas and pitfalls that accompany the young adult, particularly the twenty-something. Being a member of this crowd, I enjoyed perusing this list of titles—my personal favorites being A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and The Emperor’s Children. I’m drawn to the idea that there repeatedly exists in literary form a character who seeks to resist the expectations of society, and instead chooses to define one’s path by his or her rules.

Can you think of other books that fit this description? Are there certain books that particularly spoke to you as you entered young adulthood?

Used toothpicks and toilets for sale!

by Rachel

Ever wanted to own your favorite author’s toilet? Well, I haven’t, but if you’re into acquiring the weird and wonderful, it looks like you’re in luck: J.D. Salinger’s old toilet is up for auction on EBay for a cool one million dollars. The toilet comes un-cleaned (because you’d have it no other way, right?) and with a letter from the owners who bought Salinger’s house (to verify authenticity? After all, noone wants to pay big bucks for a phony toilet).

Other literary memorabilia has gone on auction before, as Huffington Post noted a few weeks ago – from an unpublished manuscript by Mark Twain (interesting) to a toothpick belonging to Charles Dickens (ick!), but the toilet of an author? A used toothpick up for auction makes me cringe, but a used toilet? I’m not sure what to think about this, but the word “absurd” does come to mind.

If you could choose any one item from your favorite author to acquire, what would it be? Quirky, interesting or just plain weird, I’d love to know!

Literary fashionistas

by Rachel

I’m no fashionista, yet I find it fascinating reading descriptions of characters and their garb in books. I remember reading Charlie and The Chocolate Factory as a kid and being blown away by Roald Dahl’s descriptions, and then watching the movie—wow! So, this article by Judy Berman piqued my interest and made me think about some of the best-dressed book figures out there. I’m going to be cliché here and vote for Ian Fleming’s James Bond as my best-dressed literary hero. I also agree with a lot of the names on Berman’s list—Dorian Gray, Scarlett O’Hara, Emma Bovary—what great examples of fashion-conscious characters.

I’d love to hear who you think is one of the best-dressed literary figures out there! Or perhaps the worst (if I recall anything from my college reading, Dorothea Brooke from George Eliot’s Middlemarch wasn’t such a sharp dresser).

The real Camelot

by Miriam

I’ve been fascinated by the Arthurian legend since I was a kid. The impossible struggle to be good in the face of temptation and evil, the idea that a belief in magic is as necessary for survival as the quest for something of meaning, the courage and passion and the heartbreaking losses and defeats, the notion that the human spirit can triumph over the darkness that sometimes threatens to engulf us…all that and Excalibur. I’ve read dozens of versions over the years, from Chretien de Troyes’ to Alfred Lord Tennyson’s to John Steinbeck’s to T.H. White’s to Mary Stewart’s to Richard Monaco’s to Marion Zimmer Bradley’s, and always hoped that there was more than myth and folklore to the story of the great King Arthur and his court.

So, it was with great delight that I came upon this piece in the Daily Mail. How cool is the discovery that there was, in fact, a real Round Table (which was not a table at all)? Hopefully, the new information will spark a new wave of Arthurian storytelling.

To Kill a Classic

by Rachel

I read To Kill A Mockingbird twice as a high school student—once as an eleventh-grader in Australia, and then again the following year as a senior in the States. I was going to take an American literature course in college which examined the story further, but decided against it; I worried re-reading and overanalyzing the text would ruin the book for me. After reading it a couple of times and liking it, I’m thinking of taking it on once again this summer—as a reader this time, not as an overly analytical student.

Part of my decision to read To Kill A Mockingbird again comes from wanting to prove Allen Barra wrong, after reading his Wall Street Journal article. In this piece, Barra tells his readers that it’s time to “stop pretending that 'To Kill a Mockingbird' is some kind of timeless classic that ranks with the great works of American literature.” He believes there’s no ambiguity in the text of the book; that its “bloodless liberal humanism” is dated, and declares Flannery O’Conner’s writing a far worthier subject for high-school readers.

Allen Barra may complain of the book lacking ambiguity, but I’ve got to admit how much I enjoyed this book—twice. Combining controversial and eye-opening themes of injustice, courage and innocence, with Harper Lee’s simple and elegant narrative style, I think To Kill A Mockingbird is an incredibly relevant piece of literature that I hope will continue to be read in schools for years to come.

Do you think To Kill A Mockingbird is worthy of praise? Or, do you think it’s time to give students something else to read? If you agree with Allen Barra’s thoughts on the book, what do you think should be next on the curriculum for high school kids to read?

The definition of insanity

by Lauren

Reading Miriam's post the other day, I was totally delighted by all the great/bad books.  I'm not sure I can make a top five list, because I'm incredibly contrary and like to overthink lists before I commit to them, but Moby Dick, Jane Eyre, and the collected works of Charles Dickens (sorry, Jim!) and John Steinbeck (sorry, Rachel!) would at least be in my top 25.

The thing that struck me most, though, was several of you mentioned reading these books multiple times.  I particularly loved that Kerry went back to a book she hated the first time, which I can't even imagine. I just can't do it, myself.  With very few exceptions (the odd children's book I don't remember well; Gatsby once to try to understand a reference to it that still makes no sense), the only books I re-read are manuscripts I'm editing.  Even when I love the books, I find re-reading has none of the enjoyment for me that reading for the first time does.  I find it near impossible to focus, knowing what's coming next.  (It's probably for the best that I never became a copyeditor, for that and other reasons.)

The idea doesn't bother me: On the one hand, there are so many books to read, it seems a waste to read one of them multiple times.  On the other hand, you're never going to read them all anyway, so what's the harm?  I just can't actually do it in practice.

Anyone else? Re-readers, tell me, why? Do you easily read every word, have no objection to skimming, or struggle with the impulse? And is there a certain kind of book you find re-readable when others aren't? A thriller doesn't sound like much fun the second time. Enlighten me below!

And you thought you had problems....

by Chasya

I do love dissecting a good book, and even more so, it’s characters. Which is why this piece by the Wall Street Journal had me at hello. Turns out I’m not the only person who diagnoses fictional characters using the DSM-IV, the bible of psychiatric diagnosis (I also tend to do this to historical figures, just FYI). Turns out, this is a very good teaching tool for psychiatric residents, too. Various universities are now picking apart the neuroses and ticks of your favorite fictional characters. Turns out Twilight’s broody vamp Edward may have a serious case of arrested development, and your favorite Winnie the Pooh characters suffer from everything from generalized anxiety disorder to dysthymia.

I mean, what was up with that Don Quixote? Hearing voices? Believing he’s a knight? Fighting windmills he thinks are actually giants? Clearly delusional disorder, right? As a reader, I find this added layer in character dissection just an interesting topic for discussion. What about you? Any literary characters you would diagnose?

A literary affair to remember

by Rachel

Ever wondered what would happen if your two favorite authors hooked-up and penned a book together?

Well, I have, and so has Caroline Hagood, who gives us a rundown on her top 5 literary hook-ups in her article on Huffington Post.

I don’t know about you guys, but pairing Franz Kafka with Chuck Palahniuk sounds like a mind-bending literary experience. Maybe a Stephen King and Dostoevsky combination could work wonders too. But why stop with fiction? How about Julia Child and Albert Camus hooking up – they’d create a delicious and absurd little cookbook together that I’d definitely want to read.

Fancy any literary hook-ups yourself?