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Viewing: Blog Posts Tagged with: Essay Review, Most Recent at Top [Help]
Results 1 - 8 of 8
1. On writing about where we are from

Joni Tevis has an article in the Sept/Oct Poets & Writers (not online I’m afraid) about how she finally broke through the flatness of an essay she had been working on about her hometown. She was specifically writing about the textile mills in South Carolina, which she knew very well. As I have been working on an essay about a particular town and its history for several years, I found this piece extremely appealing (and ordered a copy of her recent essay collection because of it). From her article:

Then one day, as I was driving around town, Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks” came on the radio. That summer had been unusually rainy; at one point, Greenville’s rainfall totals were higher than those of Seattle. Creeks flooded, bridges washed out, mountainsides bucked. The strange weather unnerved people, and we started joking about rain lasting forty days and forty nights, animals boarding two by two. It hit me then that the essay I’d been toiling over might be about something more than just the mills. In part, it might be about rebuilding after a crisis—one that people outside the region had forgotten, if they ever noticed it at all.

I love Led Zeppelin and I love “When the Levee Breaks” and the place I have tried to write about, my father’s hometown, suffered a massively destructive flood at one point. The song is not the spark I need to break through the flatness of my writing however (as much as I wish that listening to it over and over would do it for me), but this article has made me think a bit deeper about what I’ve been trying to write about. On the surface, it has always been the ethnicity of this particular New England town and why the immigrants came there and the somewhat amazing work ethic they created and adhered to.

But there’s more than that to it and now I am understanding better where I have not dug deep enough. The last line of that excerpt is what really got to me: “…it might be about rebuilding after a crisis—one that people outside the region had forgotten, if they ever noticed it at all.”

The “crisis” was not a flood in my case, but the less obviously dramatic and long drawn-out crisis that made it necessary for my family and many other people to come to a town in the US and leave their country (Canada) behind. I wish I had a song to play along to that but I haven’t found it yet. This article is a good substitute though; an unexpected perspective that is making me reconsider some writing I had very nearly given up on.

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2. I've always had a soft spot for plastic pink flamingos

"The Tacky History of the Pink Flamingo" from Smithsonian Magazine:

First designed in 1957, the fake birds are natives not of Florida but of Leominster, Massachusetts, which bills itself as the Plastics Capital of the World. At a nearby art school, sculptor Don Featherstone was hired by the plastics company Union Products, where his second assignment was to sculpt a pink flamingo. No live models presented themselves, so he unearthed a National Geographic photo spread. It took about two weeks to model both halves of the bird, brought into the third dimension by then-revolutionary injection-mold technology.

A flamingo-friendly trend was the sameness of post-World War II construction. Units in new subdivisions sometimes looked virtually identical. "You had to mark your house somehow," Featherstone says. "A woman could pick up a flamingo at the store and come home with a piece of tropical elegance under her arm to change her humdrum house." Also, "people just thought it was pretty," adds Featherstone's wife, Nancy.

For more reading, Jennifer Price has a great essay collection* about nature and American culture that includes a piece on plastic pink flamingos, Flight Maps. There's a Q&A with her on the subject here. You can also read a non-flamingo piece she wrote for The Believer, (full text!) a few years ago, "Thirteen Ways of Seeing Nature in LA".

*I've got in on my shelf!

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3. Essential reading for writers (& booklovers)


A few weeks ago Sean Manning emailed me about a new Da Capo released he edited, BOUND TO LAST: 30 Writers on Their Most Cherished Book. Like a lot of bloggers who have been around awhile I get emailed a lot about new books but Manning impressed me by pointing out that the book included an introduction by Ray Bradbury, which he knew I would find appealing for obvious reasons. I told him I'd give it a look and when it arrived that was all I planned to do. But if you are a book lover - and especially if you are a writer - then this is a book you will love from the start. I'm only about 45 pages in but I can't believe how well done it is.

BOUND TO LAST just became the book I'm getting for every writer on my list, hands down.

The premise is simple: it's not a blast against e-books but it is about how physical books do still matter. This is best exemplified early on by Nick Flynn who writes that certain books are perfectly fine in e-book. Grisham, he says, is fine that way. You read it and then you are ready to pass it along. A lot of books, he notes, end up headed to the landfill but others can never be sent that way. "It is harder to bury a living thing," he writes. And some books, as this collection points out, are clearly very much alive.

Bradbury's intro will be familiar to fans of his work. He writes about his Aunt Neva and how she brought so many wonderful things into his life including the stories of Edgar Allan Poe. It's wonderful and classic Bradbury all the way. Jim Shepherd writes about visiting a mysterious used bookstore, reminiscent of the last shot in Raiders of the Lost Ark, that gave him an incredible collection of hard covers. When he returned some time later it was, of course, shuttered and gone. But he sees those books and remembers that magical place all over again.

Francine Prose writes about the pain of discovering her copy of Andersen's Fairy Tales was missing and the wonder of finding the exact copy available for sale online - and immediately acquiring it. (The point was to find the exact same edition - nothing else would do.) Anthony Swofford writes about carrying The Stranger with him on tour in the Persian Gulf (an experience he used to write Jarhead). Here's some of what he has to say:

...my experience in that burning desert altered me, changed me as a writer and a man. Perhaps it even made me a writer; it certainly made me a different writer from the one I'd have become if I'd gone to university at eighteen or become a carpenter, another option at the time. That battered copy of the The Stranger that I carried around the desert was an integral part of my writer's education.

That battered copy he carried around is essential to him even now - it reminds him who he was before and during the war and who he has become since.

Danielle Trussoni has a treasured copy of Speak, Memory that she has taken with her on every move, reading it literally to death but still can not let go.

Joyce Maynard's essay surprised me the most so far. It's about The Bible and I thought, "oh man - of course..somebody always writes about The Bible." But it's not just The Bible in general, it's her father's Bible and why she doesn't have it and why he did have it and why she misses him so much and by the time she gets to the end you feel so badly for this poor woman who has only the memory of her father annotating his Bible and not the actual book itself.

No other Bible will do, that's for sure.

All of these lead to the essay I finished last night on Les Miserables by Louis Ferrante. This is how it starts:

In the early '90s I was indicted by the FBI, Secre

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4. Wil Wheaton's dad talk

The fangirl in me has been reading Wil Weaton's blog for years, enjoying his conversations about everything from Star Trek to D&D. What has really kept my attention though is his entries about family and writing and how he has navigated the world since child actor status of a near iconic nature. (If you're a regular on Star Trek you get the icon tag I think, whether you want it or not.) (It also doesn't hurt if you starred in one of the greatest coming-of-age movies of all time.) (And when that is based on one of the greatest coming-of-age stories of all time it makes you even cooler.)

But I digress.

I am sure a lot of people think Wheaton is just another former child star and write him off as such without taking any time to actually see what he is doing now. For those of us who follow his work this is crazy talk however as although Wheaton still acts (and does a great job) it is his writing that has really taken off. His latest essay collection, The Happiest Days of Our Lives recently came out from Subterranean and iIt's classic Wheaton - funny, nostalgic, ironic and if you are of a certain age (late 30s/early 40s) a dead on sentimental look back at certain times and places from your own childhood. But, more than all of that, Happiest Days is also yet another example of what I think Wheaton does just about better than anybody these days and that's write about what it's like to be father.

Wheaton has two stepsons who live him with him and his wife and they figure prominently in his essays. Sometimes they are used as a foil for his own geekiness - responding in mock horror to his musical taste or nostalgia for gaming, SF, etc. But mostly there are really sweet moments such as the book's brief opening piece when he asks Ryan the formula for the circumference of a circle and in the exchange that follows reveals he "has been riding this planet for almost twenty billion miles." Ryan thinks it's pretty cool and it is, although the conversation between the two is even better: casual, a little to the geek left of ordinary, and comfortable. It's Wheaton being who he is with this kid and Ryan being cool with that. From those first two pages I realized this book is not about being an actor but about being a father and in small ways or large all the pages that followed just reaffirmed that first assessment.

There are essays here about saying goodbye to the Star Trek TNG set, a funny memory of what it is like as a kid to choose between saving your allowance or buying a much longed for action figure (at Kmart no less) and a look at Star Trek conventions from a perspective most of will never know. But there are also numerous asides about music shared between the generations and playing frisbee with the boys and the first time he plays D&D with Ryan (which prompts all sorts of memories about his own storied past with the game) and driving with Nolan on the freeway for the first time. These are small idea essays mostly - meaning they are narrowly focused on one man's experiences. But by reaching beyond his fame and into aspects of his life that are so easy to relate to (something he does daily on his blog), Wheaton largely removes his fame from the narrative (which is odd as clearly he does write about Star Trek). Every time he mentioned Nolan or Ryan it made me smile - I recognized those parental feelings and I appreciated how he was sharing them. By the time I finished reading Wheaton had cemented himself in my mind as a wr

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5. When Sherman Alexie raves about a book....

....then yeah, I want to read it.

Notes From No Man's Land is an essay collection author Eula Biss that won the Graywolf Press Nonfiction Prize. (That is another clue that the book is a must read.) Here's what Alexie had to say in his blurb:

I fought with this book. I shouted, Amen! I cursed at it for being so wildly wrong and right. It's so smart, combative, surprising and sometimes shocking that it kept me twisting and turning in my seat like I was on some kind of sociopolitical roller coaster ride. Eula Biss writes with equal parts beauty and terror. I loved it.

I bought this one for myself because of Alexie's blurb and also because of excerpts I had read about her first essay, on telephone poles and the history of lynching in America. I used to heavily teach lynching to my students at Ft Wainwright, just because it shows so much about who we were - not only the fact that lynchings occurred, but that so many people celebrated them and that the largest mass lynching in the US was actually of Italians in New Orleans in 1891. The topic has a lot of punch and I found it was always excellent for finding common ground among all students (no one supports lynching). So I wanted to see what Biss could bring to this aspect of American history and man, was I ever impressed.

In "Time and Distance Overcome" she writes about the history of the telephone, the development of telephone poles (and how some people opposed them to the point of destruction) and how, by default, they became used for lynchings. She writes about riots, about lynching postcards, about a big story (lynchings) and a small one (telephone poles). She includes amazing things like this:

In Pittsburgh, Kansas, a black man was hanged from a telephone pole, cut down, burned, shot and stone with bricks. "At first the negro was defiant," the New York Times reported, "but just before he was hanged he begged hard for his life."

In the final paragraphs she mentions her grandfather who was a lineman whose back was broken when a pole fell. And just like that she gives you personal insight as to why the poles have always captivated her ("My Dad could raise a pole by himself," her father would say) and yet how she can not see them the same way now. It's a startling beginning and the book just takes off from there.

Biss gets personal by explaining her family's mixed race history and yet this is not a memoir but rather an occasional consideration of her experience. She writes about teaching but then uses that entry to discuss the mashup of attitudes (both preconceived and otherwise) in inner city schools. She writes about the Caucasian woman who gave birth to twins via invitro and one was African American (and not hers) and the outcome of that court case (and what it said about mothering) and about writing for the San Diego Voice and Viewpoint, an African American community newspaper.

I was especially impressed though with a historical essay about Buxton, Iowa. In "Back to Buxton", Biss writes about Buxton, "the Negro Athens of the Northwest" and her own experiences living in Iowa City, an often out of control college town. The security and peace found in Buxton, is absent from Biss's life and drives her to study not only its history but that of other towns who live on in the university's archives. For historians this is pure candy all by itself but when viewed throu

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6. Understanding the west and telephone poles and Clark Kent


NPR has an excerpt up of Notes From No Man's Land by Eula Biss. What's really interesting is that she writes eloquently about the history of telephone poles and then, slowly, builds to their use in lynchings. Here's a bit:

Lynching, the first scholar of the subject determined, is an American invention. Lynching from bridges, from arches, from trees standing alone in fields, from trees in front of the county courthouse, from trees used as public billboards, from trees barely able to support the weight of a man, from telephone poles, from streetlamps, and from poles erected solely for that purpose. From the middle of the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth century, black men were lynched for crimes real and imagined, for whistles, for rumors, for "disputing with a white man," for "unpopularity," for "asking a white woman in marriage," for "peeping in a window."

The children's game of telephone depends on the fact that a message passed quietly from one ear to another to another will get distorted at some point along the line.

Notes was already on my radar as a must read and now I am doing my level best to hold off until the summer before I buy a copy. This is exactly the sort of history that so impresses me - the way ordinary things are juxtaposed with drama in a way that is wholly unexpected. Sarah Vowell often does this with humor, It seems that Bliss does it with great empathy. Can't wait.

This collection is just another reminder of why I follow the releases of Graywolf Press so closely. Last year I raved (more than once) about Terese Svoboda's Black Glasses Like Clark Kent, a combination of military history, family memoir and meditation on research methods that blew me away. It's one of the more quietly intense and "searching" titles I've read in ages. Svoboda asks questions that no one else has asked and the reader becomes just as consumed with finding answers as she did. I loved it.

I recently finished another Graywolf title, The Next Rodeo by William Kittredge's about growing up in eastern Oregon and his own changing views of the west. This one started slow for me and honestly I wasn't sure that I would like it. But Kittredge is so unsparing of his own feelings - so determined to admit how his view of the land was wrong and how the way the people he loved damaged it because they thought they could - they thought they were doing the right thing to tame it - he just pulled me in. It's odd because he's not a big apologist; he's not asking for forgiveness and he's certainly not throwing his rancher father or grandfather under the bus in the name of political correctness. But he does say that the long held myths of the west have so corrupted our vision of it that we destroy it because we believe the stories even in the face of an overwhelmingly damaged reality. I found myself turning down the corners of one page after another (bad habit) and thinking, remember this - remember this - remember this.

He made me think of Florida and Alaska; of so many people who cling to what they know are lies just so they don't have to face the truth. The Everglades will survive, the river will survive, the beaches will survive, the wolves and the polar bears and the Porcupine Caribou herd and on and on and on. They will all be there tomorrow because they were there yesterday. If we say if often enough then it will come true, right?

There were orange groves in my hometown when I was growing up and whales offshore and beaches as far as the eye could see. They were all there once; if I close my eyes I can see them still. As long as I keep my eyes closed, they are there forever.

Graywolf Press you break my heart with your books, but man how much I love you.

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7. "Remember what it was to be me: that is always the point."


In the wake of her award winning book The Year of Magical Thinking, I realized that I had never read anything by Joan Didion. This is odd because the essay is one of my particularly favorite forms of writing and she is well known for her essays. A few months ago I finally got around to ordering a copy of Slouching Towards Bethlehem and then it sat downstairs as I dealt with other books I could not resist. A few days ago I picked it up and I have been slowly reading (savoring) it ever since.

This lady really can write.

The only reason anyone would be fascinated by these essays is the writing. A murder in "Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream" - is it so different from anything else we read about in the news today? Not really, not much, and yet the language draws you in; makes it so much more relevant. "Of course she came from somewhere else," writes Didion, "came off the prairie in search of something she had seen in a movie or heard on the radio, for this is a Southern California story." And just like that the reader understands something about this woman, this killer. We have seen a glimpse of something that Didion was able to show us and that makes us keep reading.

I wanted to know what else Didion understood.

It's such a joy to read a smart writer, and even more so when she isn't afraid to be smart. Didion reminds me of Jenny Diski that way - they both have a wry way of looking at the world and no concerns about telling it like it is. Joan Baez "was a personality before she was entirely a person, and like anyone to whom that happens, she is in a sense the hapless victim of what others have seen in her, written about her, wanted her to be and not to be." Echoes of our own celebrity culture today, of Britney, Lindsey, and all the others. Of course Joan Baez never wandered around without her underwear on but still - "a personality before she was entirely a person" is pitch perfect and makes you wonder, in retrospect, how much of the myth was really Joan Baez and how much was what everyone else decided was Joan Baez.

When I read this kind of writing it always makes me want to be more honest; to stop playing at story and thinking too much and just write. I try to drum into my head the importance of truth in writing - it seems obvious, even in fiction, but you can't ignore that little voice that wonders what the reader wants; irregardless of what you have to say. Is this character sympathetic enough, this moment intense enough, this conversation sincere enough? Is it what they want to read?

Didion did not worry about such things of course. Her thoughts on Bethlehem from an interview at the Guardian a couple of years ago:

I ask if it felt like career-making stuff as she wrote it. "No. I was paying the rent. It wasn't until Henry Robbins, who was my editor at Farrar Straus, wanted to bring out a collection of pieces ... I thought it was a terrible idea because I thought they would all be repetitive." But she did put them together, "and it was sort of well received. But I still have no sense, no sense of ... they literally were pieces that were taken against a deadline, against a need for money."

Don't think about it too much maybe - not about the audience anyway. Think about the writing but not about the rest. Let the rest just happen because the writing is the most important thing. "We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and screamed, forget who we were."

I still remember and that's why I need to write it now. For me, and maybe only for me, I need to write while I still remember.

(Post title from "on Keeping a Notebook" by Didion. Picture from Alexis Anne MacKenzie; see post at Endicott Studio to learn more about this amazing artist. The picture, to me, was Didion creating a world.)

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8. Some words on Cecil and Bennett and a few others

I am deep into reading Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys and I have to say that much of this touching and funny anthology is ringing as remarkably true for me. I am planning to include it as a "Cool Read" for my column this Spring and I think it really is an excellent choice for teens. Many of the essays recall friendships in high school or college that will particularly appeal to young adult readers and if they are in similar situations as the writers then this book will certainly seem to be a god send.

I requested an ARC of this one solely based on the inclusion of two of my favorite YA authors: Cecil Castellucci and Bennett Madison. Most of the contributors write for adult readers, but it was Cecil and Bennett who were the big attractions for me (and also David Levithan). Cecil's piece is, well, a heartbreaker. Anyone who has been there, whether in Paris or Florida (like me) will know what she was thinking and feeling and you just hate that it has to happen so often - that we all have to get our hearts broken on such a regular basis.

Now I have an idea as to why she is so very good at writing her books with their endearing characters and poignant plots. (Oh how I wish I had gone to college with you Cecil - I am sure it would have made it all so much more wonderful!!!)

As for Bennett's essay, well it is full of the sort of searching for self and embrace of all that is unique and free and wonderful in the world that I would expect the creator of Lulu Dark to know and feel. I suspect though, for all of his casual attitude and refusal to get too close, that Bennett's heart was broken a time or two when he was young as well - even if he broke it himself, it sure seems like a few lonely tears were dropped on occasion.

It's all in the growing up, you know.

What I really loved about these two essays most of all though was the peek inside of the lives of people who are sort of friends - friends in this odd way that the internet and lit blogosphere can give you friends you have not met or talked to or really honestly know.

And yet, still, somehow they are friends. (And I know this - I know how much I would have to talk to them about from the very first moment we say hello.)

Ed had a piece earlier this week in response to Michael Goodman's announcement that he would be sharply reducing his blogging at the Grumpy Old Bookman. The question of why to blog or is blogging a distraction is not new, but I have figured out why I do this. No one in my family is a writer, none of my friends are and other than grad school I have never really been around writers. I have already written why I chose to review books, but starting Chasing Ray was more of an attempt to connect with a portion of the literary world. Simply put, I blog so I can meet people and learn things that make me a better writer. I blog so I can learn from Cecil and Bennett, from Gwenda and Jenny D. and from the lovely Justine (who has so kindly been emailing me with advice on my YA book). I blog so I can meet someone like Gavin and then exchange opinons on Ray Bradbury's latest as if we were sitting outside a Parisian cafe in the 1920s; as if talking books was the best, right way to spend part of each day.

Because you know, I think that is so very true.

I blog because it helps me to know better authors like Cherie and Margo, whose worked I have reviewed and loved, and reviewers like Leila, Jen, Susan and Kelly who all have discussed a book at one time or another that I have subsequently read and enjoyed. And also there is all that I learn from Ed and Mark, Johanna and Jessa on other writers, publishers and the larger literary universe.

The lit blogosphere might seem to be a small world, I know, but it's a world that I have never been allowed to enter before - that I was always urged away from because there were other things more important than reading and writing. (These are things you do after school, after work, after "the real world".)

I blog because at long last I have found my people and really, what better reason do you need than that?

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