I spent last night at our lovely Central Library listening to a Judith Lewis-led discussion with Joy Horowitz, author of the just-out Parts Per Million: The Poisoning of Beverly Hills High School. I'm covering it for LAist and haven't managed to finish (or begin!) the book itself, so I hesitate to share too much here. However - what I know I won't cover at LAist is the seemingly extra-brutal nature of a non-fiction book tour. I rarely attend readings for non-fiction books, as fiction is my oeuvre and I don't find reportage or even creative non-fiction to be as compelling...at least, I haven't in the past. Lately, I've been really drawn to this type of investigation and long-form reporting -- hence, I've upped my attendance at more of these readings. That, plus this topic is so LAist and so...LA...it begged to be covered whether I was interested or not.
Something that was hinted at by the crummy reception at the A.M. Homes reading for The Mistress's Daughter was laid bare last night: it must be damn hard to go on the road and defend your life. Or your reporting of your life. Or your reporting about other people's lives. Particularly about real people. Real people that are in the very room in which you are reading and discussing your work.
With fiction, one can always hide, if necessary, behind the creation. The characters are figments really, constructed out of so many real parts but are still, imaginary. I don't mean to say that fiction hasn't offended many an audience member -- I only mean that there seems to be less of a persecution mentality at those readings, less of a "how dare you" or "why would you " or "I don't think I like you" vibe. With memoir, creative non-fiction, straight reporting -- in essence, the facts -- audiences feel much more at ease to pass judgment on the writer. At least, that's what I'm seeing on the ground at recent readings.
Last night was no exception. The short of it is this: 18 oil wells sit underneath the football field of Beverly Hills High School. When an inordinate amount of students and faculty were diagnosed with the same types of cancers a few years ago, many parents raised questions over the safety of the oil wells, particularly after several of them had known leaks. Yet, raising a ruckus in Beverly Hills, it seems, is simply not done. Further complicating the matter is that both the city and the school district each earn around $500k/year from the oil wells and doesn't want them shut down. Lawsuits were begun. Erin Brokovich got involved. EPA, local and state health officials jumped in. Oil companies railed against it all. Toss in a shocking dose of racism - 50% of the Beverly Hills population is comprised of Iranian immigrants, many of whom were among the most vocal about their concern for the safety of their children and many of the "white elite" in Beverly Hills refused to take their claims seriously - keep in mind the very, very sick young teenagers and you have a complex but sure-fire recipe for a contentious reading.
Clearly Horowitz knew this -- expected it -- because she stated right up front that after all of her research was completed, she didn't come down on one side or the other. Which seemed to piss off a lot of people. Even Judith Lewis, a well-known environmental reporter and blogger as a Senior Editor for LA Weekly (her recent piece on LA's ports is excellent) and who possesses an extensive knowledge of the chemicals under discussion, the "acceptable risk" amounts for humans and much more, seemed to want Horowitz to be converted by all the research and findings. Lewis even asked Horowitz at one point if all the evidence didn't radicalize her in some way. Horowitz said it didn't at all...merely that her eyes had been opened about how little our environmental and health agencies were really trying to protect us after all. It was clear very early on that Lewis was outraged by what she read in the book and that it confirmed for her how much there is to be done to fight oil companies, etc. Yet, Horowitz tried to remain on the fence - stating that she wrote to book to help find the truth about what happened, not to tell people what to think about it. Fine. I get it. Yet, people in the audience were grumbling under their breath every time she said this. Swearing even. F-bombs were used. (I know! In the Mark Taper Forum! Those hallowed halls!)
It is here I should back up, in my old reading-review style and paint a picture of the audience for you: a lot of young BHH students, several of the parents who were interviewed for the book and/or who have children that were in the book and/or are sick with cancer and want answers, several members of the BH school board and yes, several lawyers. Quite a dramatic grouping, wouldn't you say? Poised for conflict, for emotions to run extra-high. And they did. I felt at times that I was at a town hall meeting - and in many ways, that's what it was. An opportunity for several people in the audience to pick the scab off the wound. To bring new heat to the issue. To hope that Horowitz's book will shed more light on what is going on and will renew interest in the topic. Others in the audience were there to refute it all and deem the book Horowitz's attempt to make a buck off of a non-issue.
Cripes. Seriously. I have a lot of respect for Horowitz - both for her previous work at the LA Times and her lovely book Tessie & Pearlie - and I did not envy her position last night. While I secretly wished she would have come out swinging by saying the Bush Administration, our environmental and health agencies, and the oil companies are a huge problem and they must be stopped, I don't know that would have made last night any easier. Or better. Or worse.
What struck me was simply how much time it must have taken her to write the book - to file Freedom of Information Act requests again and again and again in an attempt to get real data to answer real big questions. What it must have been like to be pressured by these big oil companies throughout her research. What she endured during the interviewing of so many sick students and faculty and concerned parents. It might be overstating it to toss out the phrase labor of love - but I also doubt she's getting rich off this book and it was in poor taste for a few audience grumblers to whisper that among themselves right behind me.
Most of all, I was reminded of the stark differences between fiction and non-fiction book readings. And the discussions that inevitably follow. It takes bravery - vast quantities of it - to write at all. Yet the cajones it takes to write, truthfully, about your own life or the lives of others, is, well, whoa. I have gained a tremendous respect for journalists who investigate and report on what they find. And who must then sit in front of those very people they investigated and discuss those findings. While the Beverly Hills High School topic was the issue last night, this brand of "how dare you" and "i don't like you for showing me the truth" is pervasive in our country. It is here that I think of Iraq. Global warming. Alberto Gonzales. Of so many larger and much smaller things going on every day that many people would rather NOT investigate, not look into, not know the truth about. Whether you agree with Horowitz's findings or not, I think you have to admire the tenacity of her search.
I also think that I am most definitely, without question, a fiction writer at heart. Getting at the truth in fiction is hard enough.
