Counterbalance

Our Bookshelves, Ourselves

I won't belabor the point. My books, for reasons mostly having to do with laziness when I moved into our loft six years ago and then a construction project four years later, have been shelved according to the color of their spines. I've outlined the challenges such a system of organization presents.

It was time for a change. As in: it was time for me to find the freaking books I was looking for the moment I was looking for them, not three weeks later.

This change led to the inevitable un-shelving, piling and re-shelving of many, many books this weekend.

Certain things come to light when your books are finally sorted by author after six years of color-coded chaos. Things like: I have three copies of Murkami's Kafka on the Shore, two copies of Aira's Ghosts, where is my original copy of House of Leaves with all my notes, wither my once-complete collection of Dostoevsky, damn I like Stephen Dixon and Nicholson Baker and John Banville and Joan Didion and Donald Barthelme, where have all my Bolano's gone, I need more space for W's, I have four copies of Jane. You get the idea.

Most disturbing thing that came to light: I have thirty-six books on writing.

Patrick deWitt Delivers

So Patrick deWitt read last night at Skylight Books and he was delicious. He read from his new novel The Sisters Brothers. I always love when the author finishes reading a certain passage and there is an audible pause in the room, the crowd silently willing him to go on, go on. deWitt did that perfectly, stopping just at the point that will (and seemingly did) drive readers to buy the book and read on, read on.

The Q&A, as I've said a dozen times before, can be wonderful or awkward or riddled with ridiculous questions. Last night, the universe served up a proper Q&A and deWitt seems to be a very passionate reader and writer who is quite un-apologetically honest about his "lineage" as a writer.

When asked about is his process and his formal training, deWitt said he ultimately had no formal training. He didn't even finish high school. For ten years, he wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. And submitted and submitted and submitted. And got rejected and rejected and rejected. When asked how he kept the faith, how he managed to continue writing though he wasn't getting published, he noted that more than anything, he believed it was because he was never told no. There was no writing program guru to tell him he was an awful writer. He had to figure that out on his own and wholeheartedly admitted to be being quite an awful writer in those first years.

deWitt even mused about what might have happened had he enrolled in a writer's program. Given the stuff he was writing at the time, he wondered aloud if he might have become discouraged in some way and in hindsight is quite thankful he didn't know writer's programs existed then, though he admitted he spent many possibly wasted years writing horribly.

When asked how much research he did for his historical novel The Sisters Brothers, he said not very much at all with a wry smile. He noted that what makes him crazy about many historical novels is that you can see all the writer's research lumped in and it often doesn't serve the story. (Could. Not. Agree. More.) He didn't want to do that, so he didn't overly research anything. On the few occasions he did attempt to do serious research on a certain aspect of the time in which he set his novel, he found he was so quickly bored, it didn't make sense to continue. He enjoys writing so much that as soon as something is boring, he questions it intensely. (A. Men.)

And, ahem, how freaking amazing is that book cover? Serious props to Dan Stiles for the kick-ass cover stylings.

He said many other excellent things and, all told, made it a lovely reading. His novel has moved to the top of my TBR pile. He's reading again tonight at Stories at 8pm and you should really go out and see him. And buy his book. And ask smart questions please. And then we can talk about it later.

Lit Bits & A Bit About Crit

The tech-y bookish bits have been piling up. A few bits that have caught my eye and have worked their way into my thinking about my not-so-secret social reading project:

• Publishers Plan a Joint One-Stop Book Site: Simon & Schuster, Penguin Group USA and Hachette Book Group have announced the impending launch of Bookish.com which is intended, it seems, to be a "one-stop book site" though I struggle to understand how it can truly be one-stop if, you know, all the books you'd ever want aren't actually represented on said one-stop shop site.
• Kobo Rides the Shockwave of Interest in E-books: Eoin Purcell directed my attention to this bit on Kobo: "It took us 10 months to get to a million users, and about 90 days to get to 2 million,” CEO Michael Serbinis said in a recent interview. “Getting to 3 million took about 60 days, and we are close to 4 million now.” These figures and this ramp up says as much to me about e-books as it does about so many clients I work with --> how scalability is often getting over that first initial hurdle of customers and then the next thresholds are infinitely easier to achieve. I've seen this in every industry and am somewhat pleased to hear the same growth is happening for Kobo.
• Interesting Problems in Publishing Series: Eli James at Novelr started an excellent series about several much-talked about "problems" in publishing but pulls together disparate information in a way few do when chatting about these problems at cocktail parties and conferences. Well worth your time. I'm not sure I agree with every point or possible conclusion, but there is much to be considered here. The first two posts: Disruption and That 99c eBook Thing & Writers Are the New Publishers.

I've also read some excellent pieces recently that have turned my attention to something of a sore subject for me - the critical analysis of the critical analysis. The takedown of the takedown. I will post about this on Wednesday, but here are two pieces that I've enjoyed reading and that have sparked ideas I'm still struggling to sort out:

• What Criticism Might Be: Darby at Thumb Drives and Oven Clocks succinctly and eloquently says what I've been wondering and unable to clearly state for over a year. Well worth a read and has informed my further thinking on the subject.
• Freedom Revisited: Matthew Specktor and Joshua Hardina at Los Angeles Review of Books not only take another look at Franzen's Freedom (I know, I know) but take a look at why we all got so annoyed with the previous looks.

There are other bits, of course, and I'll share them once I've at least gone a full round one with this lit crit bug so I can begin to sort out why I'm so damned annoyed by the takedown of the takedown these days.

Reader-Writer Moment #506

Found out yesterday that Norman Rush (he of Mating, he of Mortals) will be in town this month talking at the Hammer Museum. This is like, well, watching James Salter manoeuvre around Hugh Hefner on the red carpet and proclaim it "ridiculous" at the PEN USA awards. Or it might be better.

So it was a divine surprise to belatedly get around to a back issue of The Paris Review (#194) to find an interview with Norman Rush. I have been waiting for his new novel for YEARS. YEARS, I tell you. I did not ever think it would happen. I am afraid to read it because...what then?

The Paris Review interview being less final made it easy for me to settle in for a delicious read. Here are a few of my most favorite snippets:

"I like to discern an unstated, but illustrated, argument in a novel. I mean, I like to become aware of an embodied view of a particular moral-slash-philosophical problem or circumstance. With my novels, I want readers to argue about my argument, at least in their heads. While writing I am very conscious of it."

                                              
 

"It's a rare reader who doesn't go to the novel looking for a kind of encouragement to live. No doubt this is because the novel is the rude pretender who stepped into the place of that long-reigning narrative, the religious bedtime story, which, before Darwin and Lyell and those guys, was the only narrative in town. As I write a novel, I'm aware that I'm struggling against the "obligation" to solace. But I want my books to reach only the conclusions that are implicit in the trajectories of their characters. As it happens, both Mating and Mortals have sad outcomes---but optimistic codas. So sue me."

                                                

"In moments of madness, I've had the fantasy of simultaneously publishing my novels in two versions, Regular and Jumbo. In the book I'm working on now, though, I'm trying to keep everything shorter: shorter scenes, fewer plots, general brevity. But a shorter novel goes against some of my deeper instincts. Dostoyevsky died still intending to write another volume of The Brothers Karamazov. It's like a knife in my heart that he didn't."

I'm also struck by how many writers note Conrad's The Secret Agent as a work of great influence on their own work. Franzen mentioned it in his Paris Review interview as well (full text only available in print.)

I believe I had an enormous grin on my face the entire time I read this excellent interview (which includes his wife Elsa and her remarkable role in editing his work; also, did you know he was in prison for two years? Yeah.) over the span of a few stolen moments over a few days in a few downtown locations.

I'm still smiling now and fully expect to carry this warm Rush glow around with me until (and hopefully after?) his reading on May 24th. 

Short Story Month Kick-Off: Must-Read Collections

It's short story month again. This now seems a far more official endeavor than previous years. There's even a hashtag.

I had grand ambitions for this month before this month arrived with a thump. Before it arrived with deadlines. And huge novels I promised I'd read. On deadline.

I still have grand ambitions for this month. I do love a good short story collection, as you know.

So instead of waiting until I write something gorgeous and brilliant and witty and wise or waiting to realize I might not anytime soon and would then delay the sharing of the goodness of two collections I've come to love, I figured it would make more sense to simply share. Just share the good bits and get on with it.

So, here are the first two "good bits" I'm getting on with:

• Death is Not an Option by Suzanne Rivecca - A story collection I called "kick-ass" before I'd even finished it. Then I interviewed her. Then I finished the collection and it seemed even more kick-ass. If you've not read this collection yet, I can't think of a better month to make this happen.
• If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This by Robin Black - A story collection I loved. Swooned over. I tweeted about it. Robin Black tweeted back. She was lovely and I was giddy. Then I incorrectly blogged about it and made a complete ass out of myself. While it is fine to laugh at my expense (it was...ouch), it is not fine to ignore this scrumptious collection because I'm an ass. Go. Read. Now.

So those are the first two good bits I'm sharing for Short Story month. I've even created a handy little sidebar to share all my #ssm2011 picks. You can also see the other one which has been hanging out over on the right for, what, three years? Five? Still good collections.

More soon. But if you only read two collections this entire month, you'd really do well to read these. Once you do, I'd love to talk with you about them.

Books In, Books Out

The Festival of Books and writerly parties are sure to do at least one thing to someone like me: inspire rabid book-buying. In the span of 72 hours, I've acquired the following books:

• The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt (a recommendation from Jim Ruland)
• Ablutions: Notes for a Novel by Patrick deWitt (same)
• The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich (it's about time, frankly)
• The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian
• The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami
• Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
• Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami
• Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami
• Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami
• Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
• A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami
• After Dark by Haruki Murakami
• Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov
• Senselessness by Horacio Catellanos Moya
• Jakob von Gunten by Robert Walser

Yeah. Bit of a binge, I'd say. Certain themes clearly emerge. Certain re-reads are on the table in light of 1Q84's release this fall.

The thing is, I got over-zealous when I cleared my bookshelves last month and gave over 400 books to libraries and friends and Goodwill. Turns out I gave away some books I really love so am now re-buying. Good for publishing, no? :)

I'm not currently reading any of these just-purchased books, but they remind me of a lovely and lively conversation last night about what our books say about us and what we lose in perceived or actual status in the eyes of friends and visitors to our brick and mortar or digital bookshelves. We recalled Edan's post at The Millions, The Great Book Purge of 2010, fondly and remarked that though people don't want to admit it, our books do define us...or at least can define a part of us. Or at the very least shine a light on how we want others to define us. Same with our Twitter feeds. Our blog posts. Our conversations at bookish parties. At some level, we are cultivating a narrative. Deciding how we want to be perceived or no. There's much more here, of course. And to acknowledge this perhaps draws a critical eye upon my own sharing of books purchased. Fair enough.

This brings me full circle to my still-in-my-brain-but-not-for-long post about the narrative arcs of our twitter streams. For another day, certainly. But soon.

Did the Festival of Books or any other literary happening (online or off) encourage a book buying binge for you this weekend? Say I'm not alone.