Call and Response

I've written before about how I made it out of school without encountering a lot of the classics. One such book is "Jane Eyre." In fact, I had never read any of the Brontes until I read Charlotte's novel. I wonder if I can possibly express to you how deeply I got in to this book. I followed the characters. I was Jane. I loved Rochester. I was fully present in this novel and could barely put it down. But reflecting on it made me think about the appeal of the classics. What is the draw of the literary canon? Is it that these books are all just "that good" and have managed to stand the test of time? I rather doubt this as "good" is really subjective and I've read a great deal about how "Jane Eyre" is not a technically good novel (we don't have to go into why I disagree with that, do we?). I have a feeling that the more true answer lies in the canonical books as cultural touchtones.

Reading a book like "Jane Eyre" would be enjoyable in a vacuum. It is a good book on its own terms but more than that (for me, anyway) is being able to stake my claim in the novel's cultural landscape. I don't find that I get the same satisfaction in reading modern "it" novels as I do from completing a classic. I'm not as interested in the discussion surrounding the current ubiquitous titles. I wonder why that could be? I imagine it must have something to do with the history of the discourse. The classics have years of study and written response to them.

One way in which the classics have a cultural leg up on the front list is in parallel texts. I mentioned "Jane Eyre" specifically not only because I enjoyed it but also because I read it along with Jean Rhys 1966 novel "Wide Sargasso Sea." Rhys' novel is a modern response to Bronte's and tells the story of the other Mrs. Rochester. A direct literary response like this will not be found for a current popular title (books tend to take a while to write and such) and it can add so much to the earlier work. "Wide Sargasso Sea" is a feminist, anti-colonial look into Jane Eyre's world and it will make you look at the characters within an entirely different light. A close reading of a text will give you a look at the characters but to have someone else rearrange and re-imagine them can open doors of understanding that may have previously been closed. I definitely felt that way about these two novels (though nothing could put a damper on my irrational, romantic love of Rochester ... I admitted it was irrational!).

Flavorwire recently put together a list of 11 parallel texts that's worth checking out. Many of these have been added to my TBR pile. Anyone interested in taking over my bookstore duties? I just want to stay home and read this summer!

SIBA's 2011 Book Award Winners

Cavalier House Books is a proud member of the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance. SIBA is awesome; it's one of those resources that my customers don't really hear about but that helps me to function as a better bookseller everyday. When John and I opened the store we were so excited to join SIBA, and we've basically been excited about it ever since. From the yearly tradeshow to the camaraderie between our regional bookselling peers ... it's just fantastic.

So having said all that, I would like to share with you this year's SIBA Book Award Winners followed by a short quote from the nominating bookstore. To be nominated by for an award the book must be southern in nature (either written by a southern writer or dealing with a southern topic/setting).

In the Children's Category: Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine

“Catlin will touch your heart. What more is there to say?” –Fiction Addiction in Greenville, SC

In the Young Adult Category: Countdown by Deborah Wiles

“Oh, this story brings back memories!” –Two Sisters Bookery in Wilmington, NC

In the Fiction Category: Burning Bright by Ron Rash

“Ron Rash can’t write a false word.” –Quail Ridge Books & Music in Raleigh, NC

In the Nonfiction Category: The Blueberry Years: A Memoir of Farm and Family by Jim Minick

“A captivating look into a couple’s efforts to create an organic blueberry farm in Central Appalachia. . .sit back and savor the sweetness of his blueberry story.”—Malaprop’s in Asheville, NC

In the Poetry Category: A House of Branches by Janisse Ray

“These poems are about waking up, looking around at the world, and discovering how to live within it.” –Kathryn Stripling Byer

In the Cookbook Category: Southern My Way: Simple Recipes, Fresh Flavors by Gena Knox

“Gena’s cookbook shows quicker ways to make traditional southern dishes from a fresh angle!” –Page & Palette in Fairhope, AL

Review: A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson made a somewhat hasty decision to go for "A Walk in the Woods." He'd already committed to walking the Appalachian Trail (to friends and neighbors, to his publisher, etc) when he began to research the trail. By then he had to go through with it and (thankfully) write a book about it. Bryson is at his best in the beginning of the book when he is nervous and uncomfortable while traveling with his long lost friend, Katz. It's then that we get lines like this: "All the books tell you that if the grizzly comes for you, on no account should you run. This is the sort of advice you get from someone who is sitting at a keyboard when he gives it. Take it from me, if you are in an open space with no weapons and a grizzly comes for you, run. You may as well. If nothing else, it will give you something to do with the last seven seconds of your life."

I really like that side of Bryson, when he's funny and a bit sarcastic but not too snide. To me Bryson always feels like he is reveling in his discomfort - as though the draw to his books is more what he didn't enjoy about an experience than what he did. And that's totally great, as long as it's funny. It's when Bryson becomes too biting or complains too much that reading becomes a drain. Thankfully, that's relatively absent from most of this book. Instead we hear that, "there is nothing more agreeable, more pleasantly summery, than to stroll along railroad tracks in a new shirt." He seems to have genuinely enjoyed his time on the trail. To have really gotten something out of becoming a "mountain man."

I couldn't help but be a little proud and a little jealous. Hiking the trail is definitely not for me. I love nature. The beauty, the austerity, the solitude. But I'm terrified of it as well (as I am terrified of most things). At the height of his discomfort during one of his hikes Bryson begins to worry that he might die even as he knows that he is in a safe situation. He starts to worry about how much he's worrying. "Presumably, a confused person would be too addled to know that he was confused. Ergo, if you know that you are not confused then you are not confused. Unless, it suddenly occurred to me - and here was an arresting notion - unless persuading yourself that you are not confused is merely a cruel, early symptom of confusion." And that my friends would be my thought process in the woods, which is exactly why I would not survive.

I can't neglect to mention how much we learn from "A Walk in the Woods." Of course, this book is the story of Bryson's walk, but he also packs it full of interesting history about the trail itself as well as the Forest Service (who knew bureaucracy in the woods would be such a bad thing?) and the general failings of the American people and government when it comes to nature. Also, he's got an unhealthy interest in the people who have died on the trail, and if you thought I wasn't going to attempt this 2,200 mile hike before, well, imagine me now. I really enjoyed "A Walk in the Woods." The book is full of pitch-perfect trademark Bryson, and in the end I feel that I have "gained a profound respect for wilderness and nature and the benign dark power of the woods."

The internet has me thinking...

There is a series of recent articles swirling around in my head right now (not the least of which is this one - no more Oxford comma? I'm a fan of all commas!). I know how they all fit together in my head; I'm just looking for a way to connect them to yours. You know, without the convenience of The Matrix.

The first is a recent discussion on NPR's Talk of the Nation regarding our limitations in media input called "You Can't Possibly Read It All, So Stop Trying." The title basically says it all and I don't know if I can possibly explain to you how this made me feel. As a means of understanding I'll share an anecdote from my childhood, when I was a kid I once asked my mom how long she thought it would take me to read every book in the world. She told me that I couldn't possibly, ever. This hit me pretty hard. Frankly, I'm still getting over it. And I'm still trying to read every book ever, which is probably why I have over 1,000 books at home. But back to the show, one of NPR's culture critics, Linda Holmes, suggests that you must either cull or surrender when it comes to imbibing books (or culture or mass media at large). To cull is to make a broad swipe and say this is not good/relevant/worth my time/whatever and ignore whole sections of artistic output while surrendering is to say this may be great, but I've already got all this other great stuff going on over here so I can't possibly get to it.

I'll call myself an approaching surrenderer (yeah, I just made that up). I'm not a cultural elitist, so I wouldn't say that I judge wide swaths of culture as beneath me and thus cull them. That being said, I can tell the difference between art and entertainment and I think that's a really important distinction that often gets lost in the shuffle. So, what I mean when I say that I am an approaching surrenderer would be that I try to balance the art with the entertainment (perhaps what my more highbrow peers would cull). I don't think being well-read means that you've read all of the Russians or Milton or whatever; it seems to me that being well-read means being widely read. I've read Milton and I've read Christopher Moore, for that I consider myself rather well-read. There's a cultural playing field when it comes to literature that I feel comfortable stepping out on. I know that there are holes in my literary background but I'm striving to fill them. That's just gotta be enough for me because, as my mother told me years ago and Linda Holmes reminded me Monday, I can't read everything.

Now, why am I sharing this with you? Before I go there, let me share the next article. Author Ann Patchett will be opening a bookstore in her hometown, Nashville. Apparently, Nashville doesn't have a bookstore anymore. The indie that had been in town for 30 years has closed, the chains have fled, and Nashville is left with nothing but the internet (and here's hoping a thriving library system but somehow I doubt it; are "thriving library systems" even allowed exist anymore?). I'm hoping you are starting to catch my drift here. This is going to be one of those "bookstores are important!" posts. I heard Patchett's news and I immediately thought of Holmes' discussion.

When you know that the number of books out in the world is really too much to fathom, how do you deal with the question of what to read? For some the answer is simply the recommendations of friends, for others it's the NYT Bestseller's List, but one that I think is really important is the community bookstore (as well as the library; I'm a huge library fan). Sure, a website can tell me what books customers purchased together, but is that all the information I want? What if I want a recommendation that's geared to me and my immediate literary community? That's not going to happen without a conversation. Then there's the limitless possibility. Not all limitations are a bad thing; in her interview Patchett says "I think we’ve got to get back to a 3000-square-foot store and not 30,000." The word typically used for stocking a small bookstore is "curating," as though it were a collection. When you have such a small amount of space a great deal of care goes into how you fill it, trust me on this one. When I consider whether or not to put a book in my store I am taking into consideration whether or not I would recommend it to someone. I don't have enough space (or funds) to dedicate it to books I don't believe in.

That is how I'm helping you to surrender to the vastness of the literary world. I spend most of my time reading books or reading about books because that's my job. I do it so that I can act as a guide through this vastness and in that way you can still have time to, you know, do your job.

Review: Middle School by James Patterson and Chris Tebbetts

I have finally read my first James Patterson novel. I know you're thinking "Patterson? With your delicate sensibilities?" Okay, so maybe you aren't thinking that, but I will tell you that I shy away from Patterson and his ilk. I find detective fiction (as riveting and pageturning as it gets) to be far too violent for my tastes. So now you really are asking, "why Patterson?" It all started with a book in my mailbox.

Little, Brown and Company sent me a copy of a book called "Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life," I flipped through it, read a little, and decided to take it home with me. It looked cute and funny enough to pass the evening with. I did not expect to enjoy this middle grade novel as much as I did, nor did I expect it to come from the man I later found to be its author, you guessed it - James Patterson.

"Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life" is Rafe's story, he's an average kid with an average disdain for middle school. Plus he's got a friend who's kind of a bad influence, but you can't help but enjoy him. Rafe and Leo are the kinds of kids whose lives at home are sometimes difficult and they remain mostly obscure in school until they come up with a plan. The plan is to break every rule in the Hills Village Middle School Code of Conduct. Rafe and Leo make a game of breaking all the rules, assigning point values (the more dangerous the rule breaking the higher the points) and lives (only three, which can be lost by neglecting an opportunity to break a rule or not acting swiftly enough). Rafe immediately endears himself to the reader by making a rule of his own: no one is to be hurt by consequence of his rule breaking.

This is a great story with a lot of sweetness, heart, and humor. I would definitely recommend it to reluctant middle grade readers, especially those who like the Wimpy Kid books as it shares with that series the journal-like first person narration with plenty of humor and illustrations. "Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life" is a good story with a great character. Rafe is a perfect blend of fragile kindness and young rebellion.

Advance Reading Copy reviewed from Little Brown Books for Young Readers

Review: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

I've started writing this review several times now and the words that come to mind as I begin every intro are "surprising" and "complex." I feel that I can really sum up the whole of Ishiguro's novel with those two words. "Never Let Me Go" opens with the first person narration of Kathy H which is creepy enough since we are told that the setting is "England, late 1990s" and I know no one in England is simply named H. Then Ishiguro begins to drop terms that the reader is unfamiliar with noting that Kathy is a "carer" and she takes care of those who have made "donations." The opening of the novel is not exactly confusing but it is disconcerting, especially for those familiar with Ishiguro's prose. He's famous for being a good writer, and I mean that in the beautiful language sense. So the odd references and the incredibly simplistic language set the reader up for what is going to be a very different reading experience in only the first paragraph.

The novel opens with Kathy reflecting on her life thus far as she prepares to make a big change and step down from the carer position she has held for eleven years. She explains that she wants to talk about her childhood as she has recently reconnected with two close friends from the past. Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy were incredibly lucky kids. They were students at the elite Hailsham school. While most of the donors Kathy cares for had horrible childhoods in schools they'd rather not discuss, Kathy and her friends lived in a basically care-free world throughout their early lives. Kathy is curious about her memories. She is constantly questioned about them by individuals who did not attend Hailsham and it is as though her reflections have begun to weigh on her.

And that's the thing, as a reader you are following along as Kathy describes life in Hailsham. The Guardians, the Gallery for creative works, the Collections of student possessions ... you hear about all of these things and Kathy describes their importance, but all the while you keep thinking that something else is going on here. There are hints and clues that allude to the fact that not all is right with the world, even in the idyllic Hailsham. This just doesn't sound like 90s England. Then all is illuminated to Kathy and the reader. It makes sense of the entire experience of reading the novel. Everything has been slightly off-kilter for a reason and we learn why when we find out just what it was that was special about Kathy, her friends, and the others like them. But I'm not going to tell you what that is ... I'll let Kazuo Ishiguro tell you in his own time as you read the novel.

So, there's the surprising. Here's the complex - this novel is not really even about that surprise. It's not really about the moral and ethical questions Ishiguro is posing through his characters. "Never Let Me Go" is a coming of age novel. It's the story of Kathy's journey away from and then back to Ruth and Tommy. Following these three very different characters as they navigate similar situations and relate (or fail to relate) to one another is the true goal of the novel. The three of them are close friends but I couldn't help but think that their ties seem to be more along the sibling lines. There was a need for one another that grade school friends don't typically feel. Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy are like the three sides of a triangle - they can be objects on their own but without the other two they will never be whole. Even with two all they will ever be is intersecting lines, it's the third that makes them who they are as a unit. Finding out what was going on in this world was what kept the pages turning, but reading about the characters relationships with one another was what made the whole book worth it. It's difficult for me to say whether or not I liked "Never Let Me Go." I enjoyed reading it, but I enjoyed thinking about it moreso and sometimes found myself setting the book down to think in depth about a passage.

I haven't had any time to read lately, and I was so far behind that I actually neglected to finish (or really start) "Never Let Me Go" before our bookclub met to discuss it. I was disappointed about it then, but now having read the novel I am so sad about it! I wish I could have really participated in this discussion instead of fielding the questions and making a weird reference to a side character in True Blood. Having read the novel, I can no longer even see how I fit that reference comfortably into the conversation; though thinking about it now I have a feeling we had gone off on a tangent about living forever and I was all "Godrick was such an awesome vampire you guys!" (don't judge me, readers - that show is TV's version of crack). What I'm trying to say here is that I want you to read Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go" and then I want you to come talk to me about it.

#YAsaves

For those not familiar with Twitter lingo the # before a word or phrase tags it and is called a hashtag. Using a hashtag makes searching for a subject easier. After the publication of Meghan Cox Gurdon's WSJ article someone, I've heard it was YA author Maureen Johnson, created the hashtag #YAsaves. The entirety of the YA community caught on to the tag and twitter was ablaze with stories of the good that comes from YA. This isn't love, kittens, and sparkly vampires good; this is actual "this book saved my life" good. Today, I'm not even going to talk about how all YA is not dark. I covered that earlier. There's plenty of love and kittens and those sparkly Cullens. All that is well and good but today I've got an answer to this question: "Contemporary fiction for teens is rife with explicit abuse, violence and depravity. Why is this considered a good idea?"

Darkness in YA literature (darkness in any literature, in any art) is a response to the darkness in society. Let's face it, the daily news is a whole lot more grim than many of the books that Gurdon calls out in her article. She calls these dark and violent books smut (she uses that word - without irony. Who does that?). If it's called smut when it is fiction what are we to call the nonfiction? Lauren Myracle's "Shine" is one of the dark and violent books Gurdon specifically calls out, noting that it opens with a gay teenager being "savagely beaten." So, what are we to call Judy Shepard's book "The Meaning of Matthew" about her life (and the world) after the murder of her son? Or, is it okay for Shepard's book to deal with darkness because it was not aimed at a young audience? Are we to assume that teenagers are so oblivious to the world that they don't know hate crimes happen? I should hope not. Then, isn't it right that they should be able to read a book about it? A book that may help them to understand the world even if it's in response to a completely non-understandable situation.

This is the problem with challenging the acceptance of dark subject matter: if you are not interested in it then it is not meant for you. Maybe your life has been relatively free of darkness; you haven't experienced it and you don't want to read about it so why should you? You don't have to. That's a perfectly valid option. But don't judge those who do. As Sherman Alexie pointed out in his response to Gurdon's article:

When some cultural critics fret about the “ever-more-appalling” YA books, they aren’t trying to protect African-American teens forced to walk through metal detectors on their way into school. Or Mexican-American teens enduring the culturally schizophrenic life of being American citizens and the children of illegal immigrants. Or Native American teens growing up on Third World reservations. Or poor white kids trying to survive the meth-hazed trailer parks. They aren’t trying to protect the poor from poverty. Or victims from rapists.
No, they are simply trying to protect their privileged notions of what literature is and should be. They are trying to protect privileged children. Or the seemingly privileged.

Life is difficult for just about everyone, especially teenagers. To combat that some people escape into "hyper-violent" dystopias like "The Hunger Games" or maybe they relate to the damaged characters in "The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian". That's why I think "abuse, violence and depravity" are a good idea in young adult literature. Not only is it a good idea, but it is absolutely necessary. These books are needed; they are doing actual good. These books are saving lives. And really, do I have to say this, are we actually complaining about kids reading?

I know I stated that I don't really read YA, but one of the YA books that I have read is Laurie Halse Anderson's "Speak". "Speak" is a genuinely good book and an important book, and Laurie Halse Anderson is awesome. For the tenth anniversary of the publication of "Speak" she wrote a poem in honor of the feedback she received from the book, which is about a girl who was raped. The poem is called "Listen" and you can watch her read it below. After you hear this poem you will fully understand just how #YAsaves.