books

It gives me more joy than you can possibly imagine to announce that a book I edited, On Being 40(ish), will be released by Simon & Schuster on February 5th, 2019.  This book was a delight from start to finish, and working with my incomparable agent Brettne Bloom and editor par excellence Christine Pride was a complete pleasure.  Anyone who’s been reading this blog for a bit knows this is a lifelong dream for me.  I hope there will be more books.

The fifteen artists whose work is included in the book are all people I respect and admire, and I can say without hesitation that these pieces will make you laugh, cry, and nod in identification.  This book is about a particular decade of life, but it’s also about being an aware, sentient human being in general.  I will be giving copies to many, many people I know come the winter and spring, and I hope you will too!

You can preorder On Being 40(ish) and I hope you will.  Most of all, I hope you love it.  Please let me know!

Also, a giveaway: I’ll send an advance copy to someone who comments here  I’ll draw randomly tomorrow at 8am so please leave a comment for your chance to win our book!

I’m happy that our first two trade reviews were positive!  They are here:

I love Dani Shapiro’s work.  That’s not a surprise.  I reviewed Devotion here, Still Writing here, and Hourglass here. I’m incredibly fortunate to have taken classes with Dani and to call her my first and most important teacher.  Her writing moves me and makes me think, as well as inspires me to be better, more aware, more thoughtful, more engaged.

I was lucky enough to read an advance copy of her new memoir, Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love and it took my breath away.  Run, don’t walk.  Order it now.  I’ll be giving to to many friends when it comes out early next year.  Inheritance tells the story of Dani’s discovery, in early 2016, that the father that she’d long adored, who died many years ago, was not her biological father (this is on the back of the book, so I’m not giving anything away).

The book starts with this revelation and unfolds as she learns more about her parents’ motivations and about her true biological background.  The story feels like a detective story, with a kind of breathless pacing that is for me new in Dani’s work.

The book centers around questions of identity.  Most saliently: what makes us who we are?  What combination of genetics, experience, loyalty, and love makes up our soul?  How do we wrestle with choices people made long ago that impact us deeply?  Particularly when the choosers are not here to talk to anymore?

Dani’s family – both the family she grew up with (though her parents are not living, there are other relatives who come into this story: cousins and half-siblings and an aunt) and the biological family she newly meets in midlife – mostly meet her revelations with candor and warmth, for which she is grateful.

Dani’s father was already a towering figure in her life, and he features in much of her writing before Inheritance.  As she says at the end of the book, “there has rare been an event of importance in my life when I have not searched for my father.”  His legacy of Orthodox Judaism forms is the through line of Devotion, and, arguably, of Dani’s life altogether.  This discovery about his role in her biological makeup is an earthquake for Dani, but, ultimately, it does not change the love they shared and the enormous influence he had on her.  Of course this is book hit me – another daughter hugely impacted by her father, in a moment of deep grief and awareness of that power – particularly right now.

The book unpacks complicated questions of agency and secrets, of what we share and why, as Dani thinks through who she is in the light of this new information.  Like in many of her books, I closed it with a deep sigh of relief and identification.  The thing I love most about Dani’s work is how beautifully, delicately, and honestly she describes what it’s like to live the questions, in Rilke’s words. She manages to take experience that is deeply, uniquely personal and use it to comment on universal themes of humanhood.  Dani’s done this in all of her books, in my opinion, and Inheritance is no different.

She lives the questions, without forcing an answer, and in that willingness inspires me profoundly.  There may not be perfect, clean answers – in the case of Inheritance, Dani will never truly know what her parents knew and why they chose this path – but that does not need to stand in the way of a rich, meaningful, and honest life.  The last lines of the book capture this beautifully as she stands before her biological family, thinking of the father of her childhood:

… I silently call to him, a Hebrew word – hineni.  Here I am.  Hineni, uttered only eight times in the entire Torah, is less a statement of personal geography than an expression of presence and pure attentiveness….I say it to my father, again and again.  Hineni.  I am here.  All of me. 

It’s that time!  For several years now, inspired by my friend Nina Badzin, I have shared my favorite books so far at the year’s halfway point (2017, 2016, 2015). As I’ve mentioned, I haven’t been reading a ton and when I do I’m drawn to books that might be characterized as Airport Reads (ie you can buy them in an airport bookstore).  I like plot.  This is a shorter list than usual at the midway point of the year; it’s particularly thin on memoir.  That doesn’t feel deliberate, but it also doesn’t feel surprising given how much Real Life the last several months have contained for me.  Maybe it makes sense that I’m less focused on reading about Real Life and more drawn to stories that transport me elsewhere.  But I’m slowly creeping back, and I would welcome your suggestions: what should I read this summer and beyond?

The Immortalists, Chloe Benjamin – I had heard so much about this novel and when I finally read it I wasn’t disappointed.  It’s both page-turning and thought-provoking, a combination I find rarer than I wish it was. For me this story was less about the forecast that happens early on (around which most of the reviews center) and more about families, fate, and the ways that who we were as children continues to echo in who we are as adults.  It’s about what makes a happy life.

My Absolute Darling, Gabriel Tallent – Wow.  I actually started this book in the last days of 2017, but I need to mention it here because it blew me away.  I reviewed this novel for Bookclique here.  Difficult, beautiful, un-put-downable.  Tallent’s first book is all of those things.  I am still thinking about it, six months later.

Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved, Kate Bowler – One of three memoirs I’d put on my “best of” list, this one really crept under my skin.  In some ways Bowler’s book reminded me of The Bright Hour, which I read and loved last year.  Could there be a more painful combination than motherhood and cancer?  I don’t think so.  But Bowler’s story, like Riggs’ before it, manages to achieve that highest goal of memoir: it has something to say about how to live.

Educated, Tara Westover – Another powerful memoir, another book I’d heard a ton about that I finally read and which really lived up to the hype. Tara’s voice is compelling and her story is downright astonishing.  In some ways this book reminded me of the Tallent novel.

An Odyssey: A Father, a Son, and an Epic, Daniel Mendelsohn – I loved this memoir, as well, which reminded me powerfully of my father and pointed me yet again in the direction of reading the Odyssey, which I have yet to do.  Mendelsohn’s story is about the centrality of the father figure (both in his own life and in the heroic stories that he teaches) and also about teaching itself.  I’m not a teacher, but I admire them and am close to several, and this book reminded me that in many ways they have the world’s most important and valuable job.

Goodbye, Vitamin, Rachel Khong – Another book I’d heard a lot about that I finally read and thoroughly enjoyed.  Obviously, the central theme in this story of a father fading away made me miss my dad.  Khong has a lovely, light touch and a voice that kept me reading.

Circe, Madeline Miller – I’m not even finished yet and I am telling everyone I know to read this book.  And I’m taking it as yet another sign that I finally need to read The Odyssey (and I plan to read the Emily Wilson translation). I’m learning so much in this novel, and understanding with a great gasp of a-ha! how some characters I’ve long heard of fit together.  Absolutely wonderful.

Next up for me: The Verdun Affair (Nick Dybek), The Reluctant Fundamentalist (Mohsin Hamid, and Grace’s required summer reading) and The Hate U Give (Angie Thomas).  

I am eager for your suggestions: what do I need to read?

Disclosure: these are Amazon affiliate links.

I love books.  I love books about books.  I love children’s books.  When Grace and Whit began reading I described it as feeling like the lights were going on.  I have a whole separate essay in my mind about what it felt like when they loved some and rejected others of my favorite books from childhood.  In this arena – reading – as in so many others, parenting was an exercise is recognizing that my children were not me, and that they had their own opinions.  Not always simple, but always educational!

Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about children’s literature.  I’m not sure precisely why: maybe it’s just that some of these pieces below have found their way into my mind.  Maybe it’s because my father’s death has made me think of all the times he read to me as a child and that we spoke about literature until the very end (the last conversation I had with him was about books).  I do know I’m asked a lot for book recommendations, for adults and for children.  The former is easier for me: I’m comfortable recommending my favorites as well as recent reads.  The latter is more complicated: books I loved, then and now, or books Grace and Whit loved and are loving?  Two separate categories that, of course, have a lot of overlap.

What are your favorite books for children?  I’m very curious.

Finally, these are the three things that have recently put children’s books squarely at the front of my mind.

17 Authors on the Children’s Books that Still Make the Weepy this piece on Brightly made me nod and hum in appreciation as many of my favorite titles were mentioned (and a few I have not heard of).  Mostly I was thrilled to see A Wrinkle in Time here, because L’Engle’s book is not just my favorite childrens’ book but quite possibly my favorite book of all.  I’ve written about this before, but at my 20th college reunion I was on a panel of alumni speaking about the Books That Changed My Life.  I was enormously humbled to be on this panel, and I sat at the edge of the table, both literally and figuratively.  My fellow panelists – each more impressive than the last – trotted out examples that intimidated me with their seriousness and intellectual content.  My Book the Changed My Life was A Wrinkle in Time.  And it did.  I’ve read it three times (one of a very short list of books I’ve read three times; others include all the Harry Potter books, Crossing to Safety, and Gilead – no surprise, my most treasured volumes).

Kate DiCamillo’s piece in Time, Why Kids Books Should Be a Little Sad made me cry, of course.  That last line?  Took my breath away. I love what she says about how the purpose of books – for children, she says, though I’d posit this is true of books for all ages – is to show the reader that he or she can survive something that is sad and still be okay.  That notion is incredibly germane for me right now. I’m thinking I need to re-read Charlotte’s Web.

I recently read and loved Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children’s Literature as an Adult by Bruce Handy in one swift gulp.  This is a quintessential book about books, and it’s full of detailed background and thoughtful analysis.  I loved this entire book, though my favorite chapters were about Sendak, Charlotte’s Web, and Narnia. Handy quotes Sendak about what the aim of writing is for him: “All this, mixed and beaten and smoothed into picture-book form that has something resembling the lush, immediate beauty of music and all its deep, unanalyzable mystery. Most of all, the mystery – that is the cherished goal.” (I shared these lines on Instagram).  Evoking the mystery.  No matter who you are, no matter your medium (writing, visual art, your life in general), isn’t that what we are all seeking to do?

I believe books are the best present and they often make up a large part of the gifts I give.  For the last several years, I’ve written about the books I plan to give during the upcoming holiday. My previous posts are here: 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012.  I used to share ideas “for children’ and “for adults” but as my children, and many of the children I know get older, the lines are blurrier.  So, this year, my list in no particular order.  I’d love to hear what books you plan to gift this year!

The Book of Dust: La Belle Sauvage (Book of Dust, Volume 1)– Philip Pulllman.  It’s no secret that I’m a huge Pullman fan (fun fact: so is R.J. Palacio: Auggie Pullman in Wonder is named for him) and I can’t wait to read this new book (the first of three) which revists Lyra, the intrepid, compelling heroine of the The Golden Compass.

Strong Is the New Pretty: A Celebration of Girls Being Themselves – Kate T. Parker. One of Grace’s godmothers gave her this book and she and I were both smitten.  Inspirational, strong, powerful, this book is an affirmation for anyone – girl, boy, adult, child – that being ourselves is the most beautiful, and most important, thing.

Artemis – Andy Weir.  For any fan of The Martian, this is a must-read.  I loved Andy Weir’s first novel (and love the story of how it came to be, with his self-publication followed by enormous success followed by traditional publishing taking notice). I plan to read this after Whit undoubtedly tears through it.

Endurance: A Year in Space, A Lifetime of Discovery – Scott Kelly. I found this book, of Kelly’s journey from childhood in New Jersey to a year in the International Space Station, as riveting as the photographs he tweeted from space. A marvelous book for anyone in your life who is interested in space, exploration, and the human race pushing the boundaries of the known.

Turtles All the Way Down – John Green. Grace and I will have to take turns with John Green’s much-anticipated and awaited new novel.  He can do no wrong as far as she (and I) are concerned.

Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver – Mary Oliver, my favorite poet.  This beautiful collection is a perfect gift for a friend who doesn’t yet know of Mary Oliver’s luminous poetry, or for someone who is just beginning to discover her. Or, really, for anyone.

I’m the One Who Got Away – Andrea Jarrell’s.  Jarrell’s first book, a slender memoir, reads with the urgency of a freight train.  In spare, beautiful prose, she writes about how we live with and move past our childhoods, in her case a particularly challenging one.  I can’t stop thinking about this beautiful book.

Saints for All Occasions – Courtney Sullivan.  I’ve established that I didn’t read much meaningful fiction this year, but Sullivan’s engrossing, compassionate novel about family, loyalty, secrets, and identity is one I keep recommending.  The Washington Post just named it one of the 10 best of the year, so I’m not alone in loving this story!

The Burning Girl – Claire Messud.  I also loved Messud’s novel, and have been mentioning it along with Saints to everyone who asks what I’ve read recently.  Her story, about the treacherous road girls can travel from adolescence to adulthood, has stayed with me.

Full disclosure: the links are Amazon affilitate links.