Books, Reviews, and all that Jazz
A friend sent this bit of the New York Times along to me yesterday, with the note, “how long have I had this now?” She had clipped it at my request, and not got around to sending it.
As I looked at the books on this list, I realized for the first time that Colum McCann (Transatlantic), and I made it on the same day with our books. I had been gifted that book before we did a panel together at the Brooklyn Book Festival and I was the book is signed both by the friend who gave it to me and Colum (something that the latter found a bit bemusing – how many writers have to sign a pre-signed book?)
Oh wow! I went looking for a link to the festival event that we did and came across this post from Greenlight Books which mentions our panel, and goes on to say where they heard about it – in the New Yorker! So what if I don’t have my fiction in there yet? That’s my name. In The New Yorker, people!!!
The Brooklyn Book Festival takes place this Sunday in Borough Hall Plaza, with dozens of free literary panels, workshops, and children’s events throughout the neighborhood. To name just a few: Hilton Als and the philosophers Alexander Nehamas and Simon Critchley will discuss the notion of beauty in the new opera “Anna Nicole”; Pete Hamill, Adelle Waldman, and Adrian Tomine will compare their literary depictions of Brooklyn; the Sri Lankan writer Ru Freeman, the Iraqi writer Sinan Antoon, and the Irish writer Colum McCann will discuss political conflict in fiction; and Jennifer Gilmore, Claire Messud, and Jamaica Kincaid will consider the role of motherhood in their latest novels. (Here is a full list of events.) Also taking place this weekend, Friday through Sunday, is the NY Art Book Fair at MOMA PS1.
Anyway, I loved meeting him and talking about our work on stage and after, about politics and the things that truly matter. And this clipping here – it reminded me of the high points we forget as we careen madly seeking the next milestone. I remember being so thrilled that I woke up at some ungodly hour in order to ambush the grocery store and buy 20 pounds worth of the NYT when the review itself came out. And then I left one copy lying around the house hoping someone would notice. Suffice to say, there wasn’t much notice – except of the “what’s for breakfast?” kind of notice that I wasn’t courting and certainly was not expecting on this biggest of all big days since I began writing.
Yet, no matter the reception on the domestic front, it was a magnificent moment and one I don’t for a moment take for granted, nor assume will ever be repeated. It reminds me of a feeling that came over me one early August morning in Maine as I got ready to head out to the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. Maine = pre-book deals, by the way. I remember feeling an immense sense of astonishment and gratitude thinking about myself, a girl who had come all the way from my small island country, without an aspiration in the world except to somehow do something worthwhile with my life though what that worthwhilian accomplishment would be was still a mystery. And how in that time I had somehow worked at two of the best organizatios in the U.S., The Institute for Policy Studies, and the American Friends Service Committee, and had also miraculously been invited to return to that campus in Ripton where so many brilliant American authors had first read their poetry and prose.
There’s a popular song, “Bubbly” – I can always come up with a popular song to go with my sentiments – talks about a feeling that starts in my toes/makes me crinkle my nose etc. That’s the feeling I get when I get to thinking about these things. They make me say, not that I deserved it, but that I was very fortunate. Somehow the people and events around me aligned right for these things to happen. Being at Yaddo is something I think about in this way, and being given the opportunity to converse with Jamaica Kincaid. Having a press that I admired for so long, Graywolf Press, publish my work, is another. As is having Julie Barer, someone I’d hoped might be interested in my writing, become both an agent and a kind and nurturing spirit in my life. And what about all the places I’ve been asked to come to, the people I’ve had the immense priviledge of meeting? What about that first publication of a personal essay, or the most recent, another personal essay? What about each small poem and bit of prose? What of all the deep and soul-sustaining friendships that have formed and thrived over these years?
So many things in this writing life of mine that have brought me such joy in such deep and immeasurable ways…There’s a vast world of generosity and beauty and real happiness that I’ve been asked to step into. How easy to forget.
It seemed important to note that gratitude in some way, to truly think about the fact that while we look to the end of a journey, we also climb and descend many peaks. Now is a good place to be, when I remember to be there.