So I'm preserving some of my favorite posts from the past several years here. (Most of this content never appeared in print.)
They would include some coverage from the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference, the Texas Book Festival and Book Expo America; a couple of online-only reviews; and, of course, the interview with William Shatner.
 | 1:01 AM Sun, Oct 17, 2010 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio |  E-mail |  News tips |
Rebecca Skloot and Joyce Maynard are not writers who, to me, would seem to have a lot in common.
But I saw them at a gathering Saturday evening and noticed that both were wearing what appeared to be mighty fancy cowboy boots.
Maynard confirmed that she had purchased her pair -- which I am recalling as midcalf, tan, with a red design on the side (possibly a cowgirl? I didn't take notes) -- in Austin years before during a down phase in her life. She said she wears them when she needs a jolt of confidence, or attitude, when headed into business meetings. [UPDATE: I have since been told that design I saw was actually a rose.]
Skloot said her pair -- high, black, I'm going to call it suede and stitched and rather dangerous looking -- was freshly purchased in Austin. [UPDATE: I now recall that Maynard said she had actually picked up a fresh pair of boots while in Austin, too.]
The last I saw both women, they were headed out, comparing notes on where they had shopped.
But I saw them at a gathering Saturday evening and noticed that both were wearing what appeared to be mighty fancy cowboy boots.
Maynard confirmed that she had purchased her pair -- which I am recalling as midcalf, tan, with a red design on the side (possibly a cowgirl? I didn't take notes) -- in Austin years before during a down phase in her life. She said she wears them when she needs a jolt of confidence, or attitude, when headed into business meetings. [UPDATE: I have since been told that design I saw was actually a rose.]
Skloot said her pair -- high, black, I'm going to call it suede and stitched and rather dangerous looking -- was freshly purchased in Austin. [UPDATE: I now recall that Maynard said she had actually picked up a fresh pair of boots while in Austin, too.]
The last I saw both women, they were headed out, comparing notes on where they had shopped.
| | 11:11 PM Thu, May 27, 2010 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
Thursday morning's author breakfast featuring Jon Stewart, Condoleeza Rice, John Grisham and Mary Roach was perhaps the hottest ticket at the expo. And if Stewart did not quite hold the crowd in the palm of his hand the way buddy Stephen Colbert did in 2007, he got off a couple of zingers for the ages.
Stewart got loud cheers when he offered a response to a New York Times column by Garrison Keillor that declared book publishing dead. "Honestly, I think the most surprising thing about the Garrison Keillor Op Ed is that I thought he was dead.
"But I hope you take his criticism to heart. Because no one understands cutting edge media than a man who does ... written radio plays. In a fictitious town."
His best line, though, was maybe a bit too close to home for the many indie booksellers in the crowd, who were had been served muffins at their tables.
Stewart got loud cheers when he offered a response to a New York Times column by Garrison Keillor that declared book publishing dead. "Honestly, I think the most surprising thing about the Garrison Keillor Op Ed is that I thought he was dead.
"But I hope you take his criticism to heart. Because no one understands cutting edge media than a man who does ... written radio plays. In a fictitious town."
His best line, though, was maybe a bit too close to home for the many indie booksellers in the crowd, who were had been served muffins at their tables.
"I actually heard one person ... just browsed the muffin bucket and said, "You know what, I'll just order it off Amazon.'"
He then offered a reading from his upcoming Daily Show book, Earth. It was a silent reading. He seemed to enjoy it.
Rice gave a more standard presentation about her upcoming autobiography. In a congenial, matter-of-fact way that played down the struggles involved, she traced her success all the way back to a grandfather -- a sharecropper who found a way to put himself through college -- to parents who valued education and taught her to believe in her abilities even amid her upbringing in segregation-era Birmingham, Ala., to her ultimate ascent to Secretary of State. It was an apolitical, sincere account that led emcee Stewart to wince in mock horror: "Don't make me like you."
(If it helps, Jon, her handlers were abrupt when I tried to ask a softball question backstage about whether she and her former boss, future author George W. Bush, had discussed their pending near-simultaneous releases.)
After Rice, John Grisham stepped up to talk about the roots of his October novel, which came from his regular reading of the obituaries. He is particularly fond of small town obituaries: "I love small town obituaries because they print the full name of the dead. And you can use that name in your work without getting sued, because they're dead. I have this thing with lawsuits. I'm always worried about getting sued." He then spoke passionately about his work with the Innocence Project.
Which left Mary Roach to lighten things up with her book about lesser-explored aspects of space travel, Packing for Mars. The California writer -- a Mayborn Conference favorite -- held her own in the all-star lineup, even after Stewart pretended to forget her name. (She noted that one headline about the event read, 'BEA breakfast to feature Grisham, Rice, Stewart and more.") Taking a look at aspects of astronaut life that range from space capsule hygiene (one chapter: "Houston, we have a fungus") to what dandruff does in zero gravity, she had no problem keeping the crowd laughing.
The audience questions were laughable in another way entirely. And not a good one. Stewart actually had to plea, "Does anybody have a question where we don't have to help you people?" Perhaps a screener might be employed next year.
He then offered a reading from his upcoming Daily Show book, Earth. It was a silent reading. He seemed to enjoy it.
Rice gave a more standard presentation about her upcoming autobiography. In a congenial, matter-of-fact way that played down the struggles involved, she traced her success all the way back to a grandfather -- a sharecropper who found a way to put himself through college -- to parents who valued education and taught her to believe in her abilities even amid her upbringing in segregation-era Birmingham, Ala., to her ultimate ascent to Secretary of State. It was an apolitical, sincere account that led emcee Stewart to wince in mock horror: "Don't make me like you."
(If it helps, Jon, her handlers were abrupt when I tried to ask a softball question backstage about whether she and her former boss, future author George W. Bush, had discussed their pending near-simultaneous releases.)
After Rice, John Grisham stepped up to talk about the roots of his October novel, which came from his regular reading of the obituaries. He is particularly fond of small town obituaries: "I love small town obituaries because they print the full name of the dead. And you can use that name in your work without getting sued, because they're dead. I have this thing with lawsuits. I'm always worried about getting sued." He then spoke passionately about his work with the Innocence Project.
Which left Mary Roach to lighten things up with her book about lesser-explored aspects of space travel, Packing for Mars. The California writer -- a Mayborn Conference favorite -- held her own in the all-star lineup, even after Stewart pretended to forget her name. (She noted that one headline about the event read, 'BEA breakfast to feature Grisham, Rice, Stewart and more.") Taking a look at aspects of astronaut life that range from space capsule hygiene (one chapter: "Houston, we have a fungus") to what dandruff does in zero gravity, she had no problem keeping the crowd laughing.
The audience questions were laughable in another way entirely. And not a good one. Stewart actually had to plea, "Does anybody have a question where we don't have to help you people?" Perhaps a screener might be employed next year.
Leave Comment
| | 2:11 AM Sun, Jul 25, 2010 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
I hope everyone has been enjoying our live Twitter feed from the Mayborn conference. Let me see if I can remember how to type in phrases that have more than 140 characters long enough to give a report on how the past 18 or so hours on nonstop nonfiction have gone.
First, I'm struck once again by the high quality of the speakers and the general satisfaction of the attendees. Newcomers and regulars alike have been using words like "energized" and "amazing" over and over again. (Note that I am typing this before I take part in a panel tomorrow, so opinions might be radically different by then.)
Friday headliner Mary Karr and Saturday keynoter Mark Bowden both won praise from the people I spoke with. Karr was like her books -- simultaneously earthy and profound, intellectual and profane. Bowden gave a workmanlike speech -- no hushed silences as with N. Scott Momaday, no slick production like Ira Glass. But he offered professional advice from someone who worked his way up from the trenches of reporting to the stratosphere of literary fame, and he was warm and genial about it.
First, I'm struck once again by the high quality of the speakers and the general satisfaction of the attendees. Newcomers and regulars alike have been using words like "energized" and "amazing" over and over again. (Note that I am typing this before I take part in a panel tomorrow, so opinions might be radically different by then.)
Friday headliner Mary Karr and Saturday keynoter Mark Bowden both won praise from the people I spoke with. Karr was like her books -- simultaneously earthy and profound, intellectual and profane. Bowden gave a workmanlike speech -- no hushed silences as with N. Scott Momaday, no slick production like Ira Glass. But he offered professional advice from someone who worked his way up from the trenches of reporting to the stratosphere of literary fame, and he was warm and genial about it.
Best of all, Bowden -- unlike Karr -- was around during the day's sessions, and he referenced them in his evening presentation. He felt like one of the gang. Albeit, the one in the gang who writes stuff for Jerry Bruckheimer.
I had a couple of only-at-the-Mayborn moments with him, in fact. He walked up while I was chatting with Slate editor-at-large Jack Shafer, who had just made an excellent presentation about the history of literary journalism, including an absolutely stunning reading from Lafcadio Hearn about a hanging that sounds as fresh and riveting as it did the day he wrote it on deadline in the 1870s. Shafer was talking to National Book Award winner Bob Shacochis, who was wandering around barefoot. I think anybody would have been welcome to walk up and join, despite the literary firepower those three wield.
A couple of presenters referenced that moment in Annie Hall when Woody Allen grabs Marshall McLuhan into a conversation to prove a point. I tried that late in the evening when Bowden, Hampton Sides and Gary Smith sat down at a table while I was pontificating to some friends about a theory I have that all writers, no matter how big, at their core feel as if any moment, someone will expose them as a fraud. I steered my group over and tested my theory. Bowden's response was something akin to, "Well, yeah, but after writing 10 books, it's not as much of an issue."
OK, so that theory may be blown. But the theory that the Mayborn is a great place to be someone interested in literary nonfiction? That one still holds.
I had a couple of only-at-the-Mayborn moments with him, in fact. He walked up while I was chatting with Slate editor-at-large Jack Shafer, who had just made an excellent presentation about the history of literary journalism, including an absolutely stunning reading from Lafcadio Hearn about a hanging that sounds as fresh and riveting as it did the day he wrote it on deadline in the 1870s. Shafer was talking to National Book Award winner Bob Shacochis, who was wandering around barefoot. I think anybody would have been welcome to walk up and join, despite the literary firepower those three wield.
A couple of presenters referenced that moment in Annie Hall when Woody Allen grabs Marshall McLuhan into a conversation to prove a point. I tried that late in the evening when Bowden, Hampton Sides and Gary Smith sat down at a table while I was pontificating to some friends about a theory I have that all writers, no matter how big, at their core feel as if any moment, someone will expose them as a fraud. I steered my group over and tested my theory. Bowden's response was something akin to, "Well, yeah, but after writing 10 books, it's not as much of an issue."
OK, so that theory may be blown. But the theory that the Mayborn is a great place to be someone interested in literary nonfiction? That one still holds.
| | 11:09 PM Sat, Oct 31, 2009 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
I was able to catch the final moments Jeff Abbott's session that drew an overflow crowd to one of the Senate committee rooms. Minute for minute, he provided some of the best laughs of the day. Such as when he discussed research he did for his recent thriller, Trust Me, at radical Web sites:
"One of the sites that I went to was a neo-Nazi site. And you would think they would all be, oh, how to build a pipe bomb, or here's our YouTube video on how to do this, or how to steal an identity -- all these things that they were interested in doing to facilitate their operation."
That wasn't necessarily so.
"The neo-Nazi site had recipes. And movie reviews. And book reviews. And a dating service. Because, you know, they're so picky. And plus -- who wants to date the neo-Nazis?"
"I just wanted to bleach my eyeballs sometimes."
But he revealed his true genius in a couple of ways. Both involve bars.
The first bar involves how he landed his first book deal.
"One of the sites that I went to was a neo-Nazi site. And you would think they would all be, oh, how to build a pipe bomb, or here's our YouTube video on how to do this, or how to steal an identity -- all these things that they were interested in doing to facilitate their operation."
That wasn't necessarily so.
"The neo-Nazi site had recipes. And movie reviews. And book reviews. And a dating service. Because, you know, they're so picky. And plus -- who wants to date the neo-Nazis?"
"I just wanted to bleach my eyeballs sometimes."
But he revealed his true genius in a couple of ways. Both involve bars.
The first bar involves how he landed his first book deal.
It was at a writing conference in Austin, when Jeff, who grew up in the Dallas area, was trying to find an agent for his book, a Southern-style mystery.
"I identified the two Southerners who were editors who were down from New York -- I mean, who are originally from the South and now living up in New York. And I met both of them during the course of the conference, but at no point did I try to force my book on them or ask them to look at my book until Sunday night: They were both at the bar, and each had half a bottle of beer."
He figured that they might not only be sympathetic, but that "They're from the South -- maybe their mama told them to be nice to people."
Both agreed to look at his manuscript, and he ended up having an offer before he found an agent. "But it's awfully easy to get an agent if you have two offers from a publisher."
(Aside: He recommended Nathan Bransford's blog as a helpful site for new writers.)
A further sign of his genius: He's working on a book that features a CIA agent who owns bars in cities around the world. Jeff is having no trouble finding volunteers to accompany him on his research, which I suspect will lead to some fascinating business-expense tax deductions.
Recommend
0
"Delusion is always dangerous," she says. Her solution is surprisingly inspirational -- and American.
The alternative is not negative thinking, she says. It's realism.
"The alternative is determination. Mixed with courage and hard work. And the example I would give from American history is the people signing the Declaration of Independence. The Founding Fathers knew they had very little chance of beating the British Empire. I mean, it was ridiculous -- the disproportion in the size of the two armies. They knew furthermore that they were each, by signing the Declaration, making themselves liable to charges of treason. And execution by hanging.
"They didn't go give up. Nor did they sit there and say, 'Let's send out 'Beat the British' vibrations into the universe and see what happens.' The point is, they knew the odds were bad, but they fought anyway. And I think that should be our motto: 'Yeah, we have some tough things to accomplish. We may not win in our lifetimes. But you know what? I wanna die trying. "
"I identified the two Southerners who were editors who were down from New York -- I mean, who are originally from the South and now living up in New York. And I met both of them during the course of the conference, but at no point did I try to force my book on them or ask them to look at my book until Sunday night: They were both at the bar, and each had half a bottle of beer."
He figured that they might not only be sympathetic, but that "They're from the South -- maybe their mama told them to be nice to people."
Both agreed to look at his manuscript, and he ended up having an offer before he found an agent. "But it's awfully easy to get an agent if you have two offers from a publisher."
(Aside: He recommended Nathan Bransford's blog as a helpful site for new writers.)
A further sign of his genius: He's working on a book that features a CIA agent who owns bars in cities around the world. Jeff is having no trouble finding volunteers to accompany him on his research, which I suspect will lead to some fascinating business-expense tax deductions.
Recommend
0 | | 11:47 PM Sat, Oct 31, 2009 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
I have to confess to being somewhat disappointed in Buzz Aldrin's generally well-received memoir, Magnificent Desolation . I respect and admire his willingness to discuss his battles with alcoholism and depression after his famous mission, but it certainly felt to me like a memoir that was dictated into a recorder (his co-writer was Ken Abraham), and since he'd written about going to the moon before, he didn't spend much time discussing his actual flight in this book.
On the other hand, the guy walked on the moon . Which makes him an American hero of Olympian stature. Which is why I joined about 750 other people at the Paramount Theater to hear him interviewed by Evan Smith of the Texas Tribune.
For someone who has been open about his battles for years, he did not go in depth about them. And even some of his moon stories had the charming but rambling quality of an beloved uncle who has told his tale so many times it just starts to overlap with the next one before he's actually wrapped up the first.
But when he started talking about mistakes NASA has made, and the future of human spaceflight, he was focused and sharp as the tip of the F-100s he used to fly.
On the other hand, the guy walked on the moon . Which makes him an American hero of Olympian stature. Which is why I joined about 750 other people at the Paramount Theater to hear him interviewed by Evan Smith of the Texas Tribune.
For someone who has been open about his battles for years, he did not go in depth about them. And even some of his moon stories had the charming but rambling quality of an beloved uncle who has told his tale so many times it just starts to overlap with the next one before he's actually wrapped up the first.
But when he started talking about mistakes NASA has made, and the future of human spaceflight, he was focused and sharp as the tip of the F-100s he used to fly.
Clearly frustrated with plans for what will happen if the space shuttle is retired as scheduled soon, he said, "The next spacecraft that the current plan calls for won't be ready for five, six, seven years. So how are we going to get our people to our space station, our $150 [billion] investment? We gotta hitch a ride with the Russians. We gotta ride like a tourist with somebody else. And pay them to take us."
This is one military man who clearly has not come in from the Cold War.
He became even more direct when he mentioned his son, who works for Boeing and says the company has bold ideas for spaceflight, but he says corporate leadership is interested only in "shareholder value."
"If this country, in the next 20 or 30 years, is run by 'shareholder value,' we're gonna go down the tubes." That's not what we're about, he said.
He echoed that theme when asked what advice he would give to students.
"Have an open mind. Reach out to so many different possibilities; toss aside the ones that just don't apply. Be patient; think ahead. Think of the future! Not just, 'What's in it for me to take now? Can I get into hedge funds ... can I make money out of money?' That's not what President Kennedy said. He said, 'Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what we can do for your country.'
"I think there's a disdain among people growing up now for the 'suckers' who choose the military life. 'I don't have to do that; I can go to Harvard and get a law degree ... and some sucker will go.' But you know who gets us out of trouble? The military."
The crowd reacted like congregants at a revivalist meeting -- well, maybe a congregation of engineers. But it was clear that young and old, male and female, they shared his passion, and his dream. His final question was from a child who asked him is favorite part of being in space.
"Well, it's always nice to come back home," he said. And after talking of the joys of being in zero gravity, he added: "Being a pioneer, being a person that does something new and different than people who've come before. Being a pilgrim on the Mayflower. Those people didn't hang around Plymouth Rock, looking for a return trip -- they were settlers! They were pioneers. They were scouting new opportunities for human existence.
"It's great to a part of something that is historical -- what I used to remember when I was a kid maybe about your age, my father and his other aviation pioneers would sit around talking about the good old days, and I thought, 'How sad! Why aren't they talking about what's coming in the future?' "
This is one military man who clearly has not come in from the Cold War.
He became even more direct when he mentioned his son, who works for Boeing and says the company has bold ideas for spaceflight, but he says corporate leadership is interested only in "shareholder value."
"If this country, in the next 20 or 30 years, is run by 'shareholder value,' we're gonna go down the tubes." That's not what we're about, he said.
He echoed that theme when asked what advice he would give to students.
"Have an open mind. Reach out to so many different possibilities; toss aside the ones that just don't apply. Be patient; think ahead. Think of the future! Not just, 'What's in it for me to take now? Can I get into hedge funds ... can I make money out of money?' That's not what President Kennedy said. He said, 'Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what we can do for your country.'
"I think there's a disdain among people growing up now for the 'suckers' who choose the military life. 'I don't have to do that; I can go to Harvard and get a law degree ... and some sucker will go.' But you know who gets us out of trouble? The military."
The crowd reacted like congregants at a revivalist meeting -- well, maybe a congregation of engineers. But it was clear that young and old, male and female, they shared his passion, and his dream. His final question was from a child who asked him is favorite part of being in space.
"Well, it's always nice to come back home," he said. And after talking of the joys of being in zero gravity, he added: "Being a pioneer, being a person that does something new and different than people who've come before. Being a pilgrim on the Mayflower. Those people didn't hang around Plymouth Rock, looking for a return trip -- they were settlers! They were pioneers. They were scouting new opportunities for human existence.
"It's great to a part of something that is historical -- what I used to remember when I was a kid maybe about your age, my father and his other aviation pioneers would sit around talking about the good old days, and I thought, 'How sad! Why aren't they talking about what's coming in the future?' "
| | 5:52 PM Sun, Nov 01, 2009 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
Do not tell Barbara Ehrenreich to have a nice day.
She's not technically against it, but her book, Bright-Sided, How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America is not for the blindly optimistic.
Ehrenreich talked about her book has roots in her breast cancer battle, which exposed her to a world of pink ribbons that she wanted no part of.
"When I was being diagnosed, I was waiting in the radiologist's office, looking at the local newspaper -- I had an idea it was going to be bad news -- and I found an ad in the classifieds for" (she spits these next words out) "a pink breast cancer teddy bear.
"And that was an existential moment for me. Because I realized at that moment, 'I am not afraid of dying. But I'm terrified of dying with pink breast cancer teddy bears."
Ehrenreich, who holds a doctorate in cell biology, wanted no part of the "mandatory optimism" the culture seemed to demand of her. And she noted that contrary to popular wisdom, there is no scientific evidence that having a positive attitude helps fight cancer. And yet, she knows of women who have been excluded from support groups after the disease metastasized, because it was feared their condition would bring other women down.
Ehrenreich basically considers positive thinking as a virus that has infected all levels of American society. It blinded leaders to the realities of the economy, leading to the current collapse, and it dampens the anger of the underclass, which blames itself for being frozen out of the economy instead of raging for social change.She's not technically against it, but her book, Bright-Sided, How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America is not for the blindly optimistic.
Ehrenreich talked about her book has roots in her breast cancer battle, which exposed her to a world of pink ribbons that she wanted no part of.
"When I was being diagnosed, I was waiting in the radiologist's office, looking at the local newspaper -- I had an idea it was going to be bad news -- and I found an ad in the classifieds for" (she spits these next words out) "a pink breast cancer teddy bear.
"And that was an existential moment for me. Because I realized at that moment, 'I am not afraid of dying. But I'm terrified of dying with pink breast cancer teddy bears."
Ehrenreich, who holds a doctorate in cell biology, wanted no part of the "mandatory optimism" the culture seemed to demand of her. And she noted that contrary to popular wisdom, there is no scientific evidence that having a positive attitude helps fight cancer. And yet, she knows of women who have been excluded from support groups after the disease metastasized, because it was feared their condition would bring other women down.
"Delusion is always dangerous," she says. Her solution is surprisingly inspirational -- and American.
The alternative is not negative thinking, she says. It's realism.
"The alternative is determination. Mixed with courage and hard work. And the example I would give from American history is the people signing the Declaration of Independence. The Founding Fathers knew they had very little chance of beating the British Empire. I mean, it was ridiculous -- the disproportion in the size of the two armies. They knew furthermore that they were each, by signing the Declaration, making themselves liable to charges of treason. And execution by hanging.
"They didn't go give up. Nor did they sit there and say, 'Let's send out 'Beat the British' vibrations into the universe and see what happens.' The point is, they knew the odds were bad, but they fought anyway. And I think that should be our motto: 'Yeah, we have some tough things to accomplish. We may not win in our lifetimes. But you know what? I wanna die trying. "
| | 10:17 AM Tue, Jul 14, 2009 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
Every now and then, I will reach into the great pile of unread books here at Humble Books Editor HQ and grab a galley that I hope will amuse Mrs. Humble Books editor, if only for the title alone. Such was the case with The Gerbil Farmer's Daughter, by Holly Robinson. We recently acquired a pair of gerbils in our own household, and I thought the book would earn maybe a smirk, then get tossed into the big box of unread books that gets hauled to the library's donation room every month or so.
But the joke was on me, because my wife devoured it -- and was enthusiastic enough in her praise to persuade me to pick it up myself.
I can't say that I loved it. But then, perhaps I am not the target audience for a memoir about a young woman coming of age in a household with an aloof mother, siblings who ranged from sickly to sociopathic, and a Naval officer father who has a dream of being the world's greatest purveyor of gerbils.
Still, it was just quirky enough to hold my attention throughout. Every member of her family turns out to be a real character, and she lets details -- from her father's obsession with secrecy about his hobby to her mother's affection for the I Hate to Cook Book do the talking. Robinson doesn't spend a lot of time trying to analyze what drives their oddball tendencies, and her lack of probing will frustrate some readers. But others will be content to just sit back and watch her life unspool as she relates in a journalistic fashion. (The author has written and edited for Ladies Home Journal, Parents and other lifestyles magazines.)
Robinson was a military child -- the family moves repeatedly, from Virginia to Kansas to Massachusetts -- and anybody who has been through that experience will find common ground with her. She was a girl who loved horses, which will endear her to other readers. And she's also a child of the 1960s and '70s, and anybody who has made a cross-country drive in the back of a Buick station wagon or watched people get high in the presence of an Indian bedspread will relate as well.
And then there are the gerbils: I knew that Robinson's father really did write the book on gerbil care, but I was pleasantly stunned when I realized that his was the very manual I had studied before setting up my Habitrail in the mid-1970s -- and she was the star of several of his photos.
Her relationship with him is the heart of the story, and her journey takes her from little girl to rebellious teen to slightly bemused parent, slowly figuring out what connects her to her own parents. It's not a pioneering journey, but it's a well-written and pleasant one.
Robinson was a military child -- the family moves repeatedly, from Virginia to Kansas to Massachusetts -- and anybody who has been through that experience will find common ground with her. She was a girl who loved horses, which will endear her to other readers. And she's also a child of the 1960s and '70s, and anybody who has made a cross-country drive in the back of a Buick station wagon or watched people get high in the presence of an Indian bedspread will relate as well.
And then there are the gerbils: I knew that Robinson's father really did write the book on gerbil care, but I was pleasantly stunned when I realized that his was the very manual I had studied before setting up my Habitrail in the mid-1970s -- and she was the star of several of his photos.
Her relationship with him is the heart of the story, and her journey takes her from little girl to rebellious teen to slightly bemused parent, slowly figuring out what connects her to her own parents. It's not a pioneering journey, but it's a well-written and pleasant one.
| | 12:05 PM Wed, Jan 28, 2009 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
For those of us who grew up watching Sesame Street, its success can be explained rather simply: If you endured some long, flat segments that were mildly educational, you'd be rewarded with radiant bursts of Muppet hilarity. And at the end, you'd have learned something. Which sums up my experience reading Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street. by Michael Davis (Viking, $27.95).
Davis has written a definitive history of the show. He also offers a pretty good summary of the history of the early years of children's educational television. But definitive here sometimes means long, wonkish segments about the inner workings of the Carnegie Foundation and such that are about as thrilling as a grant proposal.
The payoff arrives for devoted fans, though, who will learn, among other things:
- How Bob "Captain Kangaroo" Keeshan was a saint among early children's TV stars -- and despised by the writers who worked for him. (Some went on to Sesame Street, and he resented the show for it.)
- How Jim Henson could be both a shrewd businessman yet so vague in his personal dealings that Caroll Spinney didn't even realize it when Henson first invited him to audition for a job. (The misunderstanding would take seven years to rectify, but, as fans know, Spinney eventually worked out -- as Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch.)
- The happy accidents that led to the hiring of stars such as Sonia Manzano ("Maria"), and the sad decline and demise of Northern Calloway ("David").
The recollections of Ms. Cooney, a genuine television pioneer, form the backbone of the book, which also spotlights others whose contributions were crucial, from high-maintenance composer Joe Raposo to unsung producer Jon Stone (a Captain Kangaroo refugee who "was to CTW what Orson Welles was to the Mercury Theater on the Air in the 1930s," Davis writes.) Street Gang is a mostly entertaining look at one of the most important -- if not the best -- television programs ever created. I would have preferred to have more Cookie Monster-style hilarity. But even Cookie knows that sometimes, you have to eat your vegetables before you can enjoy dessert.
| | 1:20 AM Sat, Jul 19, 2008 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
This year's Mayborn Literary Conference is off and running, as nonfiction writers, editors and agents are converging in Grapevine for celebration and conversation about the craft of nonfiction writing.
Bob Shacochis was the evening's literary light. The National Book Award winner delivered a keynote speech that was described as insightful by the charitable, rambling by those less so. But it was packed with nuggets of writerly wisdom.
It should be noted that he started out with praise for his hosts for boosting the city's literary stature:
"I don't know what you've been putting in the water since my last book tour in the great state of Texas, which was in the year 2000. And it went to Austin, which is fabulous, fabulous. And I went to San Antonio -- great. And I went to Houston, which is -- you can suffer though, it's OK.
"But your publicist was not going to send you to Dallas ... because it was sort of a literary wasteland. It was. Nobody would come -- unless you were John Grisham or Madonna, nobody is coming to your damn literary reading at Barnes & Nobles in Dallas. It's just not happening. That's not my opinion, it's most of the writers I know.
"And I'm going to have to tell them they have to change their mind."
Bob Shacochis was the evening's literary light. The National Book Award winner delivered a keynote speech that was described as insightful by the charitable, rambling by those less so. But it was packed with nuggets of writerly wisdom.
It should be noted that he started out with praise for his hosts for boosting the city's literary stature:
"I don't know what you've been putting in the water since my last book tour in the great state of Texas, which was in the year 2000. And it went to Austin, which is fabulous, fabulous. And I went to San Antonio -- great. And I went to Houston, which is -- you can suffer though, it's OK.
"But your publicist was not going to send you to Dallas ... because it was sort of a literary wasteland. It was. Nobody would come -- unless you were John Grisham or Madonna, nobody is coming to your damn literary reading at Barnes & Nobles in Dallas. It's just not happening. That's not my opinion, it's most of the writers I know.
"And I'm going to have to tell them they have to change their mind."
He said he's been to writing conferences for 20 years, "And I've never been to one like this ... I didn't think you could have literary conference with this many people at it."
He then spoke at length about ... silence. In short, he wishes there were more of it on the literary scene; he decried memoirists who tell all for the sake of shock value, and suggested that such writing needs to perform a greater good beyond drawing attention to the writer.
In the course of this discussion, however, he discussed personal details ranging from his adopted niece's sex life to an article he once wrote about attempting to conceive a child to his father, whom he said was a pedophile.
But in context, these revelations also helped expose some truths about writing, such as:
"I would never write about my father and his destruction of our family in nonfiction, but one of the core reasons is aesthetic. Fiction understands that the perp -- that's cop talk for perpetrator -- fiction understands that the perp is often more intriguing, more compelling, more morally conflicted than the victim. Anybody who has watched an episode of "Law & Order" gets this.
"In nonfiction, we gaze upon the victim and think, 'justice and redemption.' In fiction, our allegiance often falls upon the other side of the divide. We gaze upon the perp and think 'dramatic tension, character development, art and irresolution,' which is the opposite of redemption."
Later on, the "tribe" of assembled writers gathered to discuss such thoughts at length at the hotel bar. It's not your usual hotel bar conversation. But it's the kind of thing that makes the Mayborn the Mayborn.
More tomorrow.
He then spoke at length about ... silence. In short, he wishes there were more of it on the literary scene; he decried memoirists who tell all for the sake of shock value, and suggested that such writing needs to perform a greater good beyond drawing attention to the writer.
In the course of this discussion, however, he discussed personal details ranging from his adopted niece's sex life to an article he once wrote about attempting to conceive a child to his father, whom he said was a pedophile.
But in context, these revelations also helped expose some truths about writing, such as:
"I would never write about my father and his destruction of our family in nonfiction, but one of the core reasons is aesthetic. Fiction understands that the perp -- that's cop talk for perpetrator -- fiction understands that the perp is often more intriguing, more compelling, more morally conflicted than the victim. Anybody who has watched an episode of "Law & Order" gets this.
"In nonfiction, we gaze upon the victim and think, 'justice and redemption.' In fiction, our allegiance often falls upon the other side of the divide. We gaze upon the perp and think 'dramatic tension, character development, art and irresolution,' which is the opposite of redemption."
Later on, the "tribe" of assembled writers gathered to discuss such thoughts at length at the hotel bar. It's not your usual hotel bar conversation. But it's the kind of thing that makes the Mayborn the Mayborn.
More tomorrow.
| | 2:23 AM Sun, Jul 20, 2008 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
For those who worship at the temple of words, Saturday night's Mayborn Literary Conference keynote speech by N. Scott Momaday was a religious experience.
Mr. Momaday held the crowd of 450 transfixed as he talked about writing and the power of the oral tradition. Transfixed is not quite the word -- at times, the stillness in the cavernous hotel ballroom was near-complete. Not a chair squeaked, not a glass clinked, barely a sound could be heard, beyond his mesmerizing voice.
The 74-year-old was brought to the dinner in a wheelchair and had to be helped to the stage, where he was seated in a leather wingback chair. From there, he spoke with the diction and authority of a Shakespeare professor and the warmth and humor of a favorite uncle.
And for an audience hungry for wisdom about writing, he served up a feast.
"I was thinking earlier today about literature, writing and I came to the conclusion that writing is a matter of telling stories." he said.
Jorge Borges, he said, once declared, "Myth is at the beginning of literature and also at its end. And I thought to myself, 'Story, story is at the beginning of literature, and also at its end."
"Literature has been my life," he said. "I am a storyteller, as my father was. We come from a great tradition of storytellers. And that's a very rich tradition. We have yet to know how rich it is."
And to prove his point, he read a work that was part myth, part poem, and entirely revealing about a writer's internal struggle. He presented it as a dialog between God and the Bear, a reference to himself.
"My futile struggle," the writer/bear says. "My mortal struggle. My intense agony. My utter and everlasting hopeless but speakable trauma, my mother of all wars is with words, Great Mystery. Oh, merciless, unforgiving words!"
Any writer who has struggled with shaping a sentence can relate to the bear's lamentation: "Oh, I fled the field in tatters, in shame, in ursine humiliation. Why, oh why, didn't you tell me about the hostility, the treachery, the sheer cruelty of words?"
And God replies, "So you have discovered that words have power, even the power to oppose you who employ them. That is a fortunate and fundamental discovery. Be glad for it. It enables you to live your live more intensely to your greater enrichment, your fulfillment."
The-back-and-forth conversation is as powerful a summation of joys and terrors of writing as anyone could hope to find.
Mr. Momaday elaborated, "I have written good things and bad and had many disappointments. I like to think of the frustration of writing now and then, because it is real."
He cited the unknown writer who said writing is easy: "All you do is you put a piece of paper in the machine, and then you look at it until beads of blood appear on your forehead. I have had that very experience. And there is nothing more frustrating than that.
"But if you put a piece of paper in the machine, and you write a sentence, or perhaps a paragraph, and you look at it, and you understand that it is the best thing you could have done in that length of time, whatever it was -- then, you see, there is no satisfaction that is equal to that, in my experience."
For a roomful of writers who were hoping to walk away from the weekend with wisdom on how to find that satisfaction, his words were nothing less than mystical.
And if my own words don't convey that -- well, it's the best I could do in the length of time I had. I hope others who were there might add words of their own about what it was like.
(Disclosures: The Mayborn is sponsored in part by The Dallas Morning News. Once again this year, I served as a judge in the writing contest.)
Jorge Borges, he said, once declared, "Myth is at the beginning of literature and also at its end. And I thought to myself, 'Story, story is at the beginning of literature, and also at its end."
"Literature has been my life," he said. "I am a storyteller, as my father was. We come from a great tradition of storytellers. And that's a very rich tradition. We have yet to know how rich it is."
And to prove his point, he read a work that was part myth, part poem, and entirely revealing about a writer's internal struggle. He presented it as a dialog between God and the Bear, a reference to himself.
"My futile struggle," the writer/bear says. "My mortal struggle. My intense agony. My utter and everlasting hopeless but speakable trauma, my mother of all wars is with words, Great Mystery. Oh, merciless, unforgiving words!"
Any writer who has struggled with shaping a sentence can relate to the bear's lamentation: "Oh, I fled the field in tatters, in shame, in ursine humiliation. Why, oh why, didn't you tell me about the hostility, the treachery, the sheer cruelty of words?"
And God replies, "So you have discovered that words have power, even the power to oppose you who employ them. That is a fortunate and fundamental discovery. Be glad for it. It enables you to live your live more intensely to your greater enrichment, your fulfillment."
The-back-and-forth conversation is as powerful a summation of joys and terrors of writing as anyone could hope to find.
Mr. Momaday elaborated, "I have written good things and bad and had many disappointments. I like to think of the frustration of writing now and then, because it is real."
He cited the unknown writer who said writing is easy: "All you do is you put a piece of paper in the machine, and then you look at it until beads of blood appear on your forehead. I have had that very experience. And there is nothing more frustrating than that.
"But if you put a piece of paper in the machine, and you write a sentence, or perhaps a paragraph, and you look at it, and you understand that it is the best thing you could have done in that length of time, whatever it was -- then, you see, there is no satisfaction that is equal to that, in my experience."
For a roomful of writers who were hoping to walk away from the weekend with wisdom on how to find that satisfaction, his words were nothing less than mystical.
And if my own words don't convey that -- well, it's the best I could do in the length of time I had. I hope others who were there might add words of their own about what it was like.
(Disclosures: The Mayborn is sponsored in part by The Dallas Morning News. Once again this year, I served as a judge in the writing contest.)
| | 12:59 PM Fri, May 30, 2008 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
I hope you are getting the sense that this event is definitely a "you'll never know exactly whom you'll run into" experience. For example, you might be sitting in a press office, and suddenly, at the table next to you, is a genuine comedy legend -- Stan Freberg. He and his wife, Hunter, are here to do business -- they are pitching a book on their life together, and are hoping to sign a deal soon. (Which further blows my pet theory that this event is all about the parties, but at this point, I don't care.)
Hunter has Dallas ties by the way -- her mother was from our fair city.
In an impromptu interview, he told a couple of stories and discussed some ongoing work.
He's working on an update to his classic "History of the United States of America." This would be Volume 3.
He still has his timing -- recounting what makes comedy endure, he talked about leaving out references to dated material. For example, jokes about "My Mother the Car" would not hold up. But a scene where Lincoln watches Grant move armies around on a map, then tells him, "You're a real Civil War buff, aren't you?" still gets a laugh.
He also reminisced about Beany and Cecil -- which back in the day counted Albert Einstein as a fan, Stan says. And then he did a lovely impersonation, which was confirmation enough for me.
He still has his timing -- recounting what makes comedy endure, he talked about leaving out references to dated material. For example, jokes about "My Mother the Car" would not hold up. But a scene where Lincoln watches Grant move armies around on a map, then tells him, "You're a real Civil War buff, aren't you?" still gets a laugh.
He also reminisced about Beany and Cecil -- which back in the day counted Albert Einstein as a fan, Stan says. And then he did a lovely impersonation, which was confirmation enough for me.
| | 3:51 PM Sun, Jun 01, 2008 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz Bio | E-mail | News tips |
Sunday is a quiet day at the Expo. Crowds have thinned as many industry types are either packing up to catch early flight back to New York or are perhaps just hungover. Or at least still exhausted from that Prince party. (Witnesses today allege that Cameron Diaz was there, followed closely by P. Diddy, and Eddie Murphy showed up around 3 a.m. Oh, and the witnesses say -- Prince rocks.)
In any case, I like dealing with tired publicists. They speak with honesty.
This morning, I stopped in at one booth and asked my standard question: "So, what's been popular?"
She didn't even try to spin me. "Anything free," she replied, clutching her Starbucks.
In any case, I like dealing with tired publicists. They speak with honesty.
This morning, I stopped in at one booth and asked my standard question: "So, what's been popular?"
She didn't even try to spin me. "Anything free," she replied, clutching her Starbucks.
William Shatner on his life, his autobiography, and the secret combination to Captain Kirk's safe
Bio | E-mail | News tips 
With Up Till Now , William Shatner has written a genuinely entertaining book -- a rarity, I think, in the celebrity autobiography genre. But I thought my interview (appearing now in GuideLive) with him was going to end before it began when I suggested this. Here's the transcript of our opening remarks (I turned my recorder on right after he said, "Let's get this done.")Humble Books Editor: Tell me a little bit about the process of writing this book. I didn't expect to like it as much as I did but I ...
William Shatner (interjecting): Why don't you tell me about that. What were your expectations?
HBE (only slightly off-guard): My expectations would have been ... in my experience, a lot of celebrity biographies are not very funny and not very revealing.
Shatner: So why do they write them?
HBE: I don't know. I'm here to ask you.
Things got better from there, as he talked about the writing process, his charity work and even answered one very gratuitous Star Trek-related question. But he makes an interviewer work for his 17 minutes.
"I don't know," he replied. "I know what you're saying. And I don't know where it comes from. One place, one wellspring, is certainly the enjoyment of a good laugh and the appreciation of somebody making me laugh. ... I think of standup comics as being geniuses. No matter how bad."
That love of a laugh plays into how, in recent years, he's become known for being able to poke fun at himself.
"I don't think there is in our little incidental lives ... very much you need to be so serious that it is death-defying. Much of what we do is incidental and needs to be treated in more lighthearted fashion so you can make the really serious decisions of life and death and good and evil."
In the spirit of the book, I gave him a chance to plug his favorite charity. (Stories in the book are often interrupted by a pitch for one product or another he's associated with.)
"Well, the only thing I keep plugging of late is trying to help other people. So there are a variety of charities that I am trying to help, actually ... so go to the Web site, williamshatner.com."
I did not want the interview to focus on Star Trek -- many others have gone there before -- but I did need to ask him about his relationship with his castmates, because I knew you, dear readers, would be curious. After explaining, "I was urged to put it in," he had a memorable -- to me -- way of making his feelings clear.
Shatner: You're how old, Michael?
HBE: 41.
Shatner: So when you were ... well, we've run out of years. But even, say, half the time between the time of the Star Trek and me, 20 years ago, somebody in a ... somebody didn't like you at school. University of Dallas was it?
HBE (not recalling discussing his alma mater up to this point): University of Kansas.
Shatner: Kansas. They didn't like you in Kansas. ( He sneers, as if talking about someone behind his back.) Jesus, Michael is an idiot. (Stops sneering.) Twenty years later, he's still on it. Don't you think there's something a little crazy about that person? (Sneering again, staring at interviewer.) "We didn't like Michael in school because, you know, he held his pen up to his lip... "
HBE: (Laughs nervously as he realizes he his holding pen up to the corner of his mouth in his "thoughtful newspaper reporter" pose.)
Shatner: "... and it was unsanitary...:
HBE: (More laughter. Wonders what to do with pen.)
Shatner: ".... and he kept putting it up ito his mouth ..." (Stops sneering.) That's fine. What's wrong with these people? So I haven't paid any attention to it.
HBE: (scribbles thoughtfully in notebook, makes note to find a new affectation when he wants to appear thoughtful.)
My final question, worked in right at the buzzer, was an attempt to play off one of his best TV moments: the Saturday Night Live skit where the Trekkies ask him an obscure bit of trivia and he replies, "GET A LIFE."
I was hoping he might tell me, "GET A LIFE," so I would have a solid ending for my story.
So I asked him, " In that episode of Star Trek where Captain Kirk goes to the safe in his quarters -- what was the combination?"
He quickly replied, "Three to the left. Four to the right. And then it explodes."
End of interview.
We said our good-byes, I expressed my thanks, and I hung back about 10 feet behind him as he walked off the convention hall. Anyone who has doubts as to William Shatner's star power should have heard the chorus of gasps as he walked past the cubicles of booksellers and publishers, who can spy celebrities regularly at the Expo and often seem nonplussed by them.
Not this time.
"Shatner!" they said to one another. "Did you see him? That was William Shatner! William Shatner!"
And if you're read this far ... get his book. He's a tough interview. But a real character, and a fun read. And worth your time.
| | 1:51 AM Thu, May 27, 2010 | Permalink | Bio | E-mail | News tips |
I knew Stephen Sondheim was going to be at the Knopf party I attended earlier this evening. I didn't expect to see him; at similar events, lesser celebrities than America's greatest living composer have been kept safely isolated from the likes of regional book-review editors such as me.
But there I was, with my cohort, on the roof, watching the sun start to set on a sweltering day, looking over the Hudson. And there he was, without much of a crowd between us and him. My companion, a book and theater critic who is usually as brave and brilliant as he is curmudgeonly and unimpressed with big shots, nudged me. He, too, was unsure what to do.
"What are you going to ask him?" he said.
"I guess we ask him about the book," I said.
And so I did. And here's what Sondheim said, before dashing off to the theater.
But there I was, with my cohort, on the roof, watching the sun start to set on a sweltering day, looking over the Hudson. And there he was, without much of a crowd between us and him. My companion, a book and theater critic who is usually as brave and brilliant as he is curmudgeonly and unimpressed with big shots, nudged me. He, too, was unsure what to do.
"What are you going to ask him?" he said.
"I guess we ask him about the book," I said.
And so I did. And here's what Sondheim said, before dashing off to the theater.
First, the name of the book is Finishing the Hat: Collected Lyrics (1954-1981) with Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines and Anecdotes. It's due in October.
And the deadlines and permanency of print are daunting to him, compared with the deadlines of writing a show.
With book proofs, "Once I correct it, they're permanent. You can't change them any more. The theater -- "Do the song Thursday night? Oh, I'll change that a little bit, how about?" The theater is constantly flexible. Publishing, you put it on paper, and there it is. You wake up the next morning and say, 'Ew! How could I say that!"
"In the theater, I can say, 'Tonight, it's got some changes.' And it happens all the time."
Sondheim notes that he has friends in Dallas and will be back in the fall -- for a Nasher Salon on Sept. 23.
And no, I didn't have time to ask what show he was seeing. Sorry.
And the deadlines and permanency of print are daunting to him, compared with the deadlines of writing a show.
With book proofs, "Once I correct it, they're permanent. You can't change them any more. The theater -- "Do the song Thursday night? Oh, I'll change that a little bit, how about?" The theater is constantly flexible. Publishing, you put it on paper, and there it is. You wake up the next morning and say, 'Ew! How could I say that!"
"In the theater, I can say, 'Tonight, it's got some changes.' And it happens all the time."
Sondheim notes that he has friends in Dallas and will be back in the fall -- for a Nasher Salon on Sept. 23.
And no, I didn't have time to ask what show he was seeing. Sorry.
No comments:
Post a Comment