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who took the long drive from her home in Northern California to join me at Book Passage in Corte Madera, where we gathered around a table with other talented writers and talked about truth. It was a remarkable morning. Wendy produced wonderful work. And when were done, we spent some time with Izzies and bruschetta, with mounds of garlic cloves.
Today, on a day that has so many of us thinking back, I am grateful to Wendy for taking the time to come see me, to read
Handling the Truth, and to write
this extraordinary review. Wendy is set to go to Florence, soon. I've been working hard, but perhaps not effectively enough, to get my Florence novel to her in the nick of time.
Hence my silence, mostly, here.
Right now, I can only say how grateful I am for this, and for the friendship.
A few (but just a few) of Wendy's words. Which made me cry on this day, when writing feels like such incredibly hard work.
Maybe you don’t want to write a memoir, so you think this book is not for you. But I encourage you to read it anyway, because within its pages are truths, “aha” moments, and beautiful writing. And if you only read it to get to the appendix of book recommendations – that is also worth your time. The research for this book was huge. Beth culls her formidable list of titles she read down to the best – many of which I have read and loved myself.
It was hot in Marin this past weekend – the day was heavy with sunshine, thick with an intense heat that had people rushing into shade – but sitting in the air conditioned environment of The Book Passage, the day fell away behind me. We were a small group, each of us there for different reasons and at different points in our writing abilities. We sniffed spices, shared photos, and scribbled down bits of memory and detail in short bursts of time. We shared. And we listened. We had the opportunity to get a glimpse into a writer’s soul and her passion, and reap the reward of doing so. It is not an experience I will soon forget.
Many thanks to Beth Kephart – to her willingness to share herself so completely with others, to fly through the dark, starry nights in order to touch the lives of her readers, and for her beautiful words of which I never tire of reading. You are a treasure. And so is your latest book – Handling the Truth.
We celebrated New Years Eve with truly beloved friends, as we now do each year. We choose a restaurant halfway between our homes, in a town called Skippack. We talk students, dance, Hollywood, art, travels, books, life as it is and was.
The bounty of friendship.
In so many ways the year now gone terrified those of us who love this country and care about the rising class of dreamers. I am vulnerable and incapable, often. I have not learned what I can do in the face of national and personal tragedies, congressional cacophony and faulty machines. I have lost my faith in the sanctity of theaters and classrooms. I have worried about weather. I have felt sickened by conversations that stopped far short of anybody actually listening.
I have wanted to make room. I have asked myself how. I have asked myself questions.
Why are we screaming so much at one another? What is the payoff of cruelty? How can we push a man into the path of an oncoming train? How can we survive the gunning down of children, of teachers, of people watching Batman? What can we do for the friend who has lost a brother far too soon? What can we say when illness happens, and when it returns, when jobs are lost, when everything is so preposterously uncertain, when the storms sweep in? When we don't know and we need to know? When there are people relying on us?
We can, I think, be kinder to one another. We can be more trustworthy. Less self-indulgent with our anger or our needs. Less quick to correct or accuse, humiliate or shame. More aware of the connections between people and things, and how easily—pushed too far, intruded upon—they're broken. We can surround ourselves with the bounty of friendship, and it is this bounty, and the love in my own family, that sustains me, that shows me how. It is this bounty that I am particularly grateful for, on this first day of this new year.
Earlier this year, Wendy Robards, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a caretaker, one of the smartest readers of books anywhere, a quilter, read an early copy of
Small Damages and began to make a quilt that captured the colors in the story. When it arrived I was astonished. Since it arrived, I have shown it to every single person who comes, sometimes I show them twice. It is symbolic, this quilt—bright, particular, personal, and made and given out of love.
Today Wendy has posted her favorite books of the year, and, Wendy being Wendy, first provides incredible reviews of a truly stellar collection, then finally names
Small Damages as her favorite read of the year.
A tree grows for you in my heart, Wendy.
Love to all of you in 2013.
Less than an hour ago, I discovered a big box on my front porch. It was addressed to me. Return address: Wendy Robards, of Caribousmom. I had
written of her just yesterday. Called to thank her for her glorious words about
Small Damages. Listened to her wise counsel. We talked for a long time. She never said a word about the sensational, handmade, unbelievable, I have never received a gift like this, I am stunned
Small Damages quilt that she had already boxed and sent my way.
She never even
hinted. Look at this quilt!!!
Look at the colors, the care. "Use it!" she kept saying, when I phoned her just now to say (fumbling for words, breathless) thank you. But how can I? How could anyone? This is art and it belongs on a wall. This is an extraordinary gesture of friendship. This is color interwoven with love.
I truly am too speechless to write much more. But Wendy, on her blog, has described her process. She has photographed this quilt throughout its making. Please, I implore you, visit her
there.
And celebrate her heart, with me, today.
Late in this day I sat down at my desk for the first time and there discovered two kindnesses.
The first from my friend Wendy of Caribousmom, one of those extraordinarily gifted people who reads, who writes, who heals, who thinks, who quilts, who makes flowers grow. She had read
Small Damages and (sneaky woman that she is) had decided to blog about it. Her words are indescribably gorgeous, and so meaningful to me.
Read them all simply to see how beautifully Wendy writes. Here is a passage dear to me:
I loved this novel and its appealing young protagonist. I loved the journey, and the discovery, the hope and the sadness, the path toward healing after trauma, the knowledge that we are never really alone, and that home is not a place on a map but the people who love you. Beth Kephart is an artist with words and Small Damages is another astonishing literary success.
Shortly after reading Wendy's beautiful post I learned from my friend Paul Hartel—a Hollywood type, an LA guy—that he had found
Small Damages in the pages of his newspaper,
The LA Times, in the 2012 Summer Reading Guide.My surprise is sincere. My happiness radiant.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 9/23/2011
Blog:
Beth Kephart Books
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I'm going to spend this beautiful day in the company of the students and faculty of the Country Day School of the Sacred Heart, which chose
Dangerous Neighbors as its summer read.
Before I head out, I wanted to share these few things:
First, readers of this blog know how moved I was by the
Logan Schweiter Fundraiser, which took place at Club La Maison. Today, at Generocity.org, in a story called
"A Spectacular Act of Love," I report on the remarkable efforts of literally hundreds of people who together raised an extraordinary amount of money on behalf of a young local teen still recovering from a near drowning following a storm.
Second, yesterday morning I had a chance to read the
Vanity Fair story "The Book on Publishing," which can also be found on Nook and Kindle reading apps at vfr.com/go/ebooks. This extended essay by Keith Gessen takes an instructive look behind the scenes of one of the largest book auctions in recent history, which yielded Chad Harbach, a first-time author, a $665,000 advance from legendary editor Michael Pietsch for the novel (ten years in the making) called
The Art of Fielding. Anyone who ever wondered just how major parts of the industry work will have questions answered here.
Finally, a bouquet of gratitude to Medieval Bookworm, for
her eloquent words about
You Are My Only, and a thank you to
Caribousmom for letting me know those words exist. I am, as always, very grateful.
To the Country Day School I now go.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 9/8/2011
Blog:
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I woke up yesterday thinking the day would be like most others—a scramble of corporate work, some exercise, laundry folded on the fly, an hour or two spent with a novel-in-progress, some texting with my son, Wednesday night salsa at MIXX. It started out that way, that's for sure, but the pattern got broken mid-way through. Things started to show up on my Facebook wall.
You-better-take-a-look-at....-emails were coming through.
What's going on? people were asking.
I don't know, I said. Because for a long time I didn't.
I'm still mystified, to be honest, by
all the kindness that came my way during the course of yesterday—all the kindness that exists in this world. I'm mystified, and I'm eternally grateful. I am also feeling desperately inadequate because I have failed to capture it all. I had planned, yesterday, to thank some very special people who have been supporting me and my work for years. In the shuffle and shift and bewilderment of my day, I did not do that.
Today is the day that I stop and thank the readers and writers who have quietly written to me of their support. Today is the day I thank those who read this book early and posted their thoughts. I never want this blog to be all about me. It is my privilege, here, to write about others, their books, their dreams; to write about my city; to write about people doing good. In cross posting these early blogger reviews of
You Are My Only, I am celebrating those who took the time—those who care. I am telling them what I hope they already feel and know: That I am hugely grateful. If I have not captured your voice here, it is only because I don't know. Because years ago I stopped googling my own name—the only solution for one as naturally obsessive and easily worried as me.
And so then please find below the excerpts from some recent blog posts that I hope you will read in their entirety. Posts from bloggers whom you should visit daily. Caribousmom is here—that exquistely smart reviewer with whom I first connected over
The Elegance of the Hedgehog and whom I later met in person in New York; I've loved her ever since. Becca of Bookstack, an indelible presence and so-smart reviewer and long time blog world friend is here. There's a Book and My Friend Amy are here—their support so entirely unspeakable. Hippies Beauty and Books. Oh my, is here, as is The Reading Zone. These join the rocking surprise gonzo
You Are My Only promotion featured here, on
Chick Loves Lit and on
Bookalicious, the equally stealthy and gonzo Melissa Sarno of This Too
giveaway, Florinda,
Kay's Bookshelf, and
Books, Thoughts, and a Few Adventures. Thank you. All. I'm about to start reading a new book called
Child Wonder. I hope to write of that soon here—to return to the universe some of the what has been sent my way.
2 Comments on You Are My Only—the kindness of bloggers continues, last added: 9/8/2011
Many exquisite things trundle and waltz by my home on Memorial Day weekend. There is, for example, the annual carriage parade. There are the dogs of the famous dog cotillion. And then there are my fabulous, witty, smart, and loving neighbors—so entirely and brilliantly in love.
Exquisite things waltz into my world as well, and this morning I would like to send my heartfelt thank you to Florinda, for
this especially moving post about our time together at BEA. Caribousmom, I thank you, too, for including
You Are My Only in your
Book Buzz: Fall Reads; you've assembled an immaculate list of titles, and I'm so grateful to have my book included on that list.
On this brilliant, beautiful morning I stop to thank three special reviewers of
Dangerous Neighbors. A writer is grateful, always, for those who take the time to read her books—who sneak them out from the tower of abundant choices and settle in.
My thanks this morning to reviewers who helped me think newly about this book that was so many things and represented so many dreams before it became
Dangerous Neighbors:
Caribousmom,
Amy's Book Obsession, and
Reading, 'Riting, and Randomness.
which was so well run, so informative, and so rippled through with companionable energy:
The Javitz Convention Center. Yours truly flanked by Natasha (
Maw Books Blog) and Nicole (
Linus's Blanket). The faithful attendees, of the very last BEA week day, after the very last session, as seen from the very last seat of the Author/Blogger Relationship panel discussion. Yours truly with the one and only
Lenore. Yours truly with the always-kind Melissa of
The Betty and Boo Chronicles. And never last and never least: The fabulous Amy of
My Friend Amy (in person!) as well as the very dear and intelligent Wendy of
Caribousmom.
I agree with all of those great words from Wendy. I cannot wait to hear about her travels to Florence.