I suppose, as with books, there can only be one single beginning to a blog post. The problem here is that I don't know which beginning to choose.
I could start with my introduction to Elizabeth Hand, through my friend Collen Mondoor—Read
Illyria, Colleen whispered, and I did. I wrote of it here.
My appreciation for that book and its author fueled a friendship with Liz, so much so that once, too long ago, this Maine-besotted writer traveled all the way to Philly on book tour and spent some time with me. We walked the parking lot of a strip mall on a rainy day. Up and back. Up and back. The rain in our hair. It could have gone on all day.
Then Liz went back to her world and I to mine. I knew that she was working on a book that mattered deeply to her—a book that had her hero, Arthur Rimbaud, at its heart. I knew that she was studying the man, translating his poetry, finding a way to make this French poet of the late 19th century come alive (this young genius declared a genius by the genius Patti Smith) for teen readers today. I knew about the project, but mostly what Liz and I began to write of then were our lives off the pages—hers in her rural world, mine in suburbia. Lives. This is what we spoke about.
So here is another beginning. A week or so ago, a padded envelope appeared at my front door—a gift from the Viking editor Sharyn November. We'd been talking about books that matter. I was naming titles, she was naming titles, we were having the kind of conversation two lovers of books have; it was that simple. Here, in this envelope, were books that Sharyn loved. There, in the mix, was Elizabeth Hand, her Rimbaud book,
Radiant Days.Which I finished reading this morning—a smile on my face. For Liz has done it, found a way to tell this story about a renegade poet of the 1870s and a 1978 painter, also renegade, who has dropped out of Corcoran to find her way. She's armed herself with cans of spray paint.
Time melts for these two characters. They meet—and Liz makes it believable. Washington, DC, and Paris bend, and the scenes are impeccably drawn, believable. Uniting the two is a former rock star named Ted Kampfert, a homeless guitarist who says, among so much else, "Magic isn't something you do. It's something you make. And if you don't make something and leave it behind, it's not just that it's gone.
You're gone."
This book, Liz Hand, is magic made.
Here is Merle, musing on the wonder of this otherworldly collision with Arthur Rimbaud:
I wasn't sure what had changed—if Arthur's presence had somehow altered the sidewalks and back alleys around us, the way his poem had shaken something loose inside of me, something I couldn't articulate and maybe couldn't even paint: not so much a different way of seeing the world as a different way of feeling it. Maybe because when I was with him, I didn't need to explain who I was; maybe because he seemed even more out of place in the streets of Georgetown than I was. With him, I felt the way I did when I gazed at The Temptation of Saint Anthony—as though the world held a secret that I was on the verge of discovering.
Here is part of the world they inhabit, during their one glorious burning night:
Behind the Dumpster a narrow alley wound between an overgrown hedge and a brick wall, so encrusted with ivy it was like burrowing into a green tunnel. Moonlight seeped through the tangled branches overhead, and there was a pallid yellow glow from the upper windows of a nearby row house. After twenty feet or so the alley widened into a tiny courtyard surrounded by buildings in varying stages of decay. Cracked flagstones covered the ground, along with dead leaves and several plastic chairs that had blown over. Small tables were pushed against the rear of a warehouse, its windows boarded shut. A tattered CLOSED sign flapped from a door chained with a padlock.
Note: I might have also launched this blog post with the news that I had been holding, in my hands, another graffiti novel. I don't know how many of them there are, but Merle, Liz's contemporary character, has herself a mean tag (Radiant Days) and glorious command of color and meaning. I wished, as I read Liz's powerful graffiti passages, that my Ada (of
Going Over) could time warp and meet Liz's Merle. That they could stand together and talk about art and about the people who are missing from their lives.
Because, in meeting Merle, I know that I am also meeting, anew, Liz Hand—a brilliant woman whose life has been seeped in art and Rimbaud and who makes unusual and therefore lasting books because she (and this is rare) can.
Portuguese artist Maria Imaginário paints colorful images filled with playfulness and wonder. Wherever her art appears, whether on canvas, wood or brick, you'll feel compelled to stop and look deeper.
On interior walls Maria paints with acrylic and tries to create environments that draw viewers in to her bittersweet world. On exterior walls she paints with spray paint and gives new life to the drab, gray walls of abandoned builds throughout the streets of Lisbon. Maria says she likes to make simple drawings, using vibrant and happy colors.
It is with tremendous happiness—and a sense of terrific good fortune— that I share the news that I will again be working with Philomel on two new books, a deal that was announced earlier today in both
Publishers Weekly and
Publishers Lunch. My experience throughout the editing and pre-launch of
Small Damages (due out July 19, 2012) has been unparalleled. My respect for Tamra Tuller (my editor), Michael Green (Philomel president), and indeed the entire Philomel team—and author list—cannot be quantified. My appreciation for their kindness and care, their intelligence and wisdom, and their faith in me is unspeakable.
It is a remarkable thing to be believed in by people this smart and this good.
Here is the deal as Publishers Lunch noted it earlier today. My thanks to my agent Amy Rennert for helping to make this happen, and for being there through all the years.
National Book Award finalist and author of more than a dozen books including the new YOU ARE MY ONLY and the forthcoming SMALL DAMAGES, Beth Kephart's two untitled novels, the first of which introduces a teenage graffiti artist living in Berlin in the early 1980s on the eve of a daring escape, to Tamra Tuller at Philomel, by Amy Rennert at the Amy Rennert Agency (World).
I sprayed some of my owl stencils on really thin Chinese painting practice paper to see how they would paste to things. I found that I really liked them on smooth trees because they completely adhere to the surface in a way that looks natural. In fact from a distance it looks like someone carved the image into the tree. I think I might got for a new line of natural looking wheatpasted images on “wild” surfaces.
Stencils backlit by computer screen.
The other night a number of wheatpasted, stencil-style graffiti images popped up around campus.
I’m sure it had absolutely nothing to do with me teaching my art club how to make and spray paint stencils. Which I of course meant to be used for creating legal decorations for their dormitory walls.
I’ll keep you updated on this horrible wave of vandalism! Let us all hope these kids learn the value of dull dirty off-white walls and stop this insanity.
Maybe it’s all the cameos in spaghetti sauce commercials and movies (was it Superman II where he straightens it?) but Pisa’s famous tower struck me as surreal, like we’d stepped into a fantasy world. The white stone buildings of the piazza, which we’re guessing had been cleaned recently, really glowed on the day we visited.
The kids called it the “Bendy Tower,” which is actually pretty accurate, since during its construction, the builders tried to correct for the leaning (already apparent) by centering the higher layers on top of the original foundation. Sounds like something I would do with one of my craft projects. So it really does bend. I kept thinking of Miss Havisham’s wedding cake.
No kids under 8 are allowed to go inside the staircase, which disappointed the kids but was fine by me. I often enjoy the outsides of buildings more than the insides anyway.
It’s a little surprising there’s a rule—-most sights in Europe have no restrictions about children, leaving you to make up your own mind. I understand this and appreciate it, but coming from the super-litigious culture of the U.S., I’ve gotten used to someone else making those decisions for me. At times we’ve been a little confused as to what was really appropriate for the kids.
While the tower was mesmerizing, my favorite thing in Pisa was the exterior of the cathedral next door. The tower is the bell tower for this cathedral. The stones that make up the cathedral are all different sizes and materials, which I found kind of crazy and awesome. Some of them are recycled from other buildings. You can see writing and designs that are now upside down and cut off:
From my reading, I understand the upside-down stuff to be recycled Roman stonework.
Here’s some other writing that must’ve been added after construction, but its placement seems kind of random:
And then there’s the graffiti (another word in my oh-so-extensive Italian vocabulary) scattered around. I guess in the olden days if you wanted to be a graffiti artist, you had to carry around a knife or a chisel or something. If you really wanted to have a lasting impact:
It seemed like these were little hidden messages waiting to be discovered. For someone interested in recycling, patchwork, writing, and printing, it was really cool.
I haven’t had a chance to do much research on the writing and recycled stone, so if you know of articles about it, let me know.
0 Comments on Secret Messages in Pisa as of 1/1/1900
Yay! Just, yay!
Wow! Wow! Wow! Jolly good, and all that! xo
Oh Beth I am just so thrilled for you...this is such wonderful news. Congratulations.
Congrats! So happy for you.
SO excited to hear this, Beth! Congratulations.
What a splendid Christmas present for you :)
Fabulous news! So very happy for you!
I am so excited to read this Beth!
Yay! Congratulations all around! This is the best news ever and so well deserved. You are amazing! Philomel is lucky to have you and it sounds like they know that. Yay! :o)
THIS NEWS MADE MY DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! congrats!
Wow!!!! Congratulations. I'm so happy for you.
YES! Everything everybody said and more. This is wonderful and definitely well-deserved.
What wonderful news! I'm thrilled for you!
I was so excited when I read this in Publisher's weekly yesterday!
Congratulations! Greatgreatgreat. (We're heading across the pond to see our son next week.)
(How weird. My google account appears to give 2 out of my 3 names. Add Bartoletti to that, just in case you don't know it's me!)
Wonderful news, Beth! I'm thrilled for you. Congratulations!!
Congratulations! I'm looking forward to both books.
So, SO happy for you dear Beth. Also happy for *us* that we get more wonderful books to read.
Hugs,
Karen
Congratulations!! That's always great news. :)
Marvelous news--congratulations, and of course, I'm eagerly looking forward to reading them both!
Tears for you, Beth, the really sniffily kind.
You have worked so hard for all of this! I am thrilled for you!
Congratulations, Beth, times two!
Such great news!