Every single day we get something wrong. We assume, we misinterpret, we misconstrue, we fail to hear, we post deliberate, blatant untruths somewhere within the forest of the internet, we (conversely, with no intent to harm) confuse our facts, we accuse, we attack, we (in our desire to defend ourselves) polish and sharpen our narrow rationales. We leave others scrambling for cover.
Welcome to Humanity.
In
Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error (Ecco), Kathryn Schulz, a daring and intelligent writer, tackles wrongness. Where it comes from. How it is institutionalized (and broken). How our response to it defines us. Fear it, she says, and we lose our ability to learn and grown. Accept it, even embrace it, and we live more intellectually elegant lives.
Nested with the history of science, democracies, philosophy, adventures in love and transformation, Shakespeare and Proust,
Being Wrong is an exquisite book. It is, in fact, a page turner; I read its 300-plus pages over the course of a single day and one early morning. I read for the ideas and the anecdotes. I read for the prose, which cradles clarity, nuance, and intrigue with seeming ease.
And I read for selfish reasons. I read because, from time to time, a reader will write to me about something I have written—words like an arrow slung.
Once, in an essay, I infuriated a reader by describing Philadelphia as having a European glow in October (I was a rich, Main Line soccer mother of many apparently snooty children, she declared, in her comment—the only part of the accusation that is in fact true is that I live in a tiny two-bedroom house not far from the Main Line tracks. Perhaps Philadelphia does not have a European glow.)
Once, in an 800-word story about the present-day culture and ambiance of Bethlehem, PA, and our ideas of home, I upset a reader for not mentioning the name of one of her husband's distant relatives who figured in Bethlehem's history—her displeasure communicated to me through both an Op/Ed letter and in person, when she found me at a bookstore.
Once I deeply angered a reader for mentioning one cemetery and not both cemeteries along a pedestrian trail, and indeed I might have mentioned both, and I was sorry that I hadn't. It was an oversight, a wrongness glimpsed in hindsight—and learned from.
And once I surprised a reader by mentioning her husband (who had passed away) and my search (along South Street) for his last name. My conversations with those who remembered this artist had led me to conclude that his name was Bud Franklin. Indeed, as I later learned, his name was (Bud) Franklin Drake. The artist's widow had called to let me know the truth. Our phone conversation led to email conversations led to a gift led to a friendship—a story I later told
here.
The history of us, Schulz teaches, is the history of error. Of assumptions sliding beneath the weight of new assumptions. Of rigid ideals yielding to debated possibilities. Of "fact" becoming footnote. No one wants to make mistakes (I am so very mad at me when I make mistakes, just ask my poor editors), and yet all of us do. But there is hope, Schulz suggests, for those who choose to grow through errors, to let down their guard, to speak in the measured maybe as opposed to the caustic, self-righteous declaration, to make room for an apology, as Ruth made room for my apology.
... whatever damage can arise from erring pales in comparison to the damage that arises from our fear, dislike, and denial of erring. This fear acts of a kind of omnipurpose coagulant, hardening heart and mind, chilling our relationships with other people, and cooling our curiosity about the world.
The author, who has produced three young-adult novels, will write "Rooms,'' to be released by Ecco in 2014.
| | Title: The Song of Achilles Author: Madeline Miller Publisher: Ecco ISBN: 978-0062060617 |
May Contain Spoilers
From Amazon:
| Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the kingdom of Phthia. Here he is just another unwanted boy living in the shadow of King Peleus and his golden son, Achilles. Yet one day, Achilles takes the shamed prince under his wing. As they grow into young men their bond blossoms into something far deeper – despite the displeasure of Achilles’s mother. When word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped, the men of Greece are called upon to lay siege to Troy in her name. Seduced by the promise of a glorious destiny, Achilles joins their cause. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus follows Achilles into war, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they have learned. |
Review:
February was an exciting month for me, book-wise. Why, you ask? Because I discovered three Holy Crap This is a Good Book books. Yes, this coveted designation, so carefully thought out, was awarded to three different reads. Deadly by Julie Chibbaro, Born Wicked by Jessica Spotswood, and the last book I started in the month of love, The Song of Achilles. It’s appropriate that I stumbled on this title in February, because it is all about love – love for friends, love for self, love for that one, true soul mate. How love changes, and how it brings out the best, and the worst, in two extremely different men.
I have loved The Iliad and The Odyssey since I was in elementary school. Learning about Ancient Greece started a lifelong fascination for cultures, both ancient and modern, and opened up a whole new world for me: I discovered how much fun independent study can be. I spent hours in the library, reading about the Greek gods and goddesses, about ancient Greek heroes, and how they lived, and about how they died. Reading a re-imagined siege of Troy now that I’m an adult gave me a sense of awe – Homer’s stories survived thousands of years after his death, and have entertained generations of people. These characters are truly immortal, and because of their strengths and flaws, they have become the definition of heroes. What a legacy Homer created for himself.
The Song of Achilles is the story of Patroclus and Achilles, rendered in beautiful prose that enchants and engages. It was hard to step away from the story, as both characters grew in depth and complexity. I came to love Patroclus, and to see him for what he was destined to be. As one adventure rolled into another, he gained wisdom and compassion. As his love for Achilles swelled out of control, too much for him to keep contained and hidden within his heart, he became more dear to me. How could he dare to love this prince, destined to be the greatest hero the Greeks had ever known, and not be destroyed by the turmoil threatening their relationship? Just knowing that Achilles’ mother was so disapproving of him should have ended the relationship before it ever began, but nothing could come between them. This is a love story for the ages. Nothing could drive them apart; not gods or war or those ugly, bitter flaws that lie hidden in all of us.
I was afraid, as I read this book, and as the tide of fate marched Achilles and Patroclus closer and closer to Troy, that there would be no sense of suspense. That it
HarperCollins has acquired the U.S. and Canadian rights to bestselling author Amy Tan‘s (pictured, via) forthcoming novel, The Valley of Amazement.
In the U.S., Ecco publisher Daniel Halpern negotiated with Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency president Sandra Dijkstra. In Canada, Harper Canada publisher Iris Tupholme ironed out a contract with Westwood Creative Artists literary agent John Pearce.
Tan described her book in the release: “A painting called the ‘Valley of Amazement’ is passed along through three generations of women of the same family. Despite vast differences in their upbringing, culture and circumstances, each of the women is drawn to discover the meaning of the painting and the unknown histories of their mothers.”
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