Isla McKetta, MFA, Author at A Geography of Reading

Lost in The End of the Story by Liliana Heker

February 2, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

Some books are so important that if you care at all about understanding the history of a place, you have to read them. The End of the Story by Liliana Heker is one of those books. And although the book is gorgeously written, it is not an easy read. If you’re interested in Latin America or stories of how people rise up against tyranny, read it anyway–it’s worth it.

Revealing History

I asked for a review copy of this book because it’s about a time in Argentinian history that I desperately want to know more about–the Dirty War. When I visited the country in the mid 1980’s, their political turmoil had settled down compared to Chile’s. But I’ve always felt that by understanding what happened in Argentina, I would understand more of what was happening in Chile while I was there and who I was because of it. Still, my investigations have been limited to watching movies like La Historia Oficial which is about a woman who starts to wonder what really happened to the parents of her adoptive daughter.

Heker doesn’t flinch as she tells the story of Leonora’s abduction in Buenos Aires and what it was like for Leonora as one of the desaparecidos–locked in a dungeon and tortured. What makes the book even more interesting is the narration of Diana Glass, a writer and friend of Leonora’s who clearly idolizes her.

Telling it Slant

“Diana feels she has reached something, the end of the beginning, she thinks, a moment of supreme hope or supreme beauty from which all paths radiate to change the world.” – Liliana Heker

But Leonora is a human, not necessarily a heroine. I’m going to reveal a few spoilers here, so skip to the next section if you don’t want to know. I loved how Heker took all of Leonora’s ideals and intellectual curiosity and used them to turn her character 180 degrees from where we expect her to be.

Although there are plenty of clues that she will become the lover of one of her torturers, it still hits you in the gut. But it also seems natural. Some have written that she does so to save her daughter, but I think that’s a cop out. I strongly believe that Leonora used her grand IQ to find empathy for the enemy. And as the book unfolded, I couldn’t blame her for it. As much as I disliked her decision, the writing is good enough to make the decision seem weighty and wrought as opposed to flighty and self-serving.

That said, many could blame her for it and there was apparently much discussion when this book came out in Argentina because people felt it betrayed the revolutionary spirit. Read an essay by the translator, Andrea G. Labinger, for more insight on that. As much as I loved Isabel Allende’s Of Love and Shadows, Leonora is no Irene Beltrán and I liked The End of the Story better for her complexity.

Framing a Story

“‘The story I wanted to tell ends, it always ended, in that first chapter. Because the awaited woman will never fight, never wanted to fight, the same revolution as the one who awaited her hoped for.'” – Liliana Heker

Heker accomplishes a stunning feat of framing this story as though it begins and ends in the same place. She plays with Diana’s nearsightedness in a way that could be a cloying metaphor and yet isn’t. The writing is beautiful and subtle. There is a depth in the way the stories of Diana and Leonora converge that I haven’t quite processed yet, but it did make me turn from the last page back to the first and start reading again.

Lost in Time

“The late October afternoon when Diana ran into Professor Ordaz, the word disappeared had not just become limited in scope.” – Liliana Heker

But I didn’t start reading over again just because I loved the book. I also started reading the book over again because I’d spent a majority of the book trying to parse out where exactly I was in time. As Heker’s scenes drifted between 1971 and 1976, I kept wishing I knew more details of the history because I was honestly lost. I tried writing the year in the margins but kept finding myself lost. There were some markers–like budding trees–that should have made finding my place in time easier, but because the seasons in South America are reversed from those in North America, I only found myself more confused by the mention of October.

When I eventually gave up trying to understand when what was happening, I liked the book better for it. Because the ethical and moral complexities are rich enough on their own. I didn’t need things that felt like “facts” because they were only a distraction from the deep exploration of human behavior under stress. And really, in the best of ways, there is nothing simple about this book.

If you can surrender to being lost in time (or if you’re a more meticulous reader than I), you must read this book. It will challenge what you think you know about yourself and your politics and you will be richer for it. I know I am.

If this review made you want to read the book, pick up a copy of The End of the Story from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Living and Sustaining a Creative Life by Sharon Louden

January 25, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA 4 Comments

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a writer and how I can do this thing that feeds my soul and still feed myself and my family. I was thrilled to achieve one of the markers of success as a writer this past year, but it hasn’t made “being a writer” easier. So when I saw Living and Sustaining a Creative Life by Sharon Louden, I knew I had to read this book.

Living and Sustaining a Creative Life is a collection of 40 essays by visual artists about how they are making art and life work together, and it should be required reading in any MFA program for artists of any kind. Here are a few things that really connected with me.

What does Success Look Like?

“I remember the first time someone told me that many artists with apparently thriving careers and gallery representation still had day jobs. It was the first of a very long series of realizations that the art world is at least 50% smoke and mirrors. At the time I felt an almost personal betrayal at the realization that artists I had already perceived as incredibly, unattainably successful still had to find another way to pay the bills.” – Jennifer Dalton

I loved this quote because I could feel the anger and disappointment in it. We all want to succeed at what we love in life. But I don’t think most of us know what that means until we’ve already “succeeded” which can make it hard to help others get past the goal line. In the case of writers, I feel like we’re pushing to get published in a magazine and then the next goal is the first book.

On the outside, my writing career looks very successful right now. I’m publishing two books this year, Polska, 1994 and Clear Out the Static in Your Attic: A Writer’s Guide to Turning Artifacts into Art. If I was an established writer, I think that would still be cause for celebration. As a newbie, I’m ecstatic. But it doesn’t mean I can quit my day job, nor can I retire to the beach and write full time and that leaves me feeling a little disappointed. I’m sure some part of me knew I wouldn’t retire off my first book (or my 20th), but I was so excited to get past that goal line that I thought everything would be magical fairy princess unicorn land afterwards.

I’ve been wonder where my skewed vision of success comes from. I think part of it is that it’s gauche to complain when you’ve gotten the thing that you and so many people have been striving for. In that spirit, I’m doing my best to enjoy every round of edits and compiling databases and checking contracts. But I am aware, too, that by not talking about that process, I’m helping to hide how much work takes place after you get the “we’d love to publish your book” gold star.

Another part is that it’s easier to shoot for a dream than a reality. To be perfectly honest, friends have told me some of the work that goes into publishing, but I just stared at them and concentrated on the “yes, but you’ve gotten what I dream of” look in my eyes while covering my ears to the reality. I think I could only process one step at a time. If denial about the amount of work that goes in after the writing is part of what got me to this step, then I suppose I have to embrace the denial because I am happy to be here. And even knowing now that the process is a lot more time-consuming than I could have imagined, I still want to write.

It does all leave me a little shy about what happens next in the land beyond the goal posts, but I will report on it here. I have no idea if my experience is universal, but I am happy to share it in case it can help writers in the way reading Living and Sustaining a Creative Life did for me.

Non-creative Work

“These tasks also include things like packaging artworks for shipping, preparing canvases and panels for painting, writing press releases and artist’s statements, keeping records for tax purposes, and vacuuming dog hair off the rug and furniture before it has a chance to migrate to the surface of my works in progress.” – Laurie Hogan

Obviously some of the tasks visual artists have to do are different from writers. Some of the things I find I have to do to maintain a creative life are: gathering tax info, cleaning my office, maintaining my computer, social media, reorganizing my drafts and my bookshelf, editing, more editing, even more editing, compiling lists of people who might be interested in my book, writing a glossary and translation notes, research.

There is a lot of work that I do which isn’t typing my next book. I try to maintain what Laurie Hogan describes as a “conscious effort towards efficiency” and use each task as a way to learn about myself and my process. I’m surprised sometimes at the ways those little things are an important part of the process and can be nurturing if I let them. For example, as I wrote a glossary for Polska, 1994, I remembered part of what had made me excited to write the book in the first place which is information I’ll share later in an interview. Vacuuming is time away from words when I can let creativity germinate. Social media is a chance to find new inspiration. Even these book reviews are part of that process and as I find a way to communicate with you what I have learned from a book, taking initial impressions and forming them into complete thoughts, I’m teaching myself too.

Creative Community

The way I have found to balance art/life is to try to maintain an equilibrium between social space and solitary space. I need a lot of solitary space both to work and to just ‘be.'” – Julie Langsam

Artists need each other. Sometimes to feel sane, sometimes for honest feedback in a world that doesn’t yet understand the boundaries you’re trying to break. But the more I’ve worked on my books, the less time I have to spend with my friends and that hurts sometimes.

I’ve been worried lately that I’ve withdrawn so far into the work that when I’m ready to come back out, there will be no one to play with. Luckily I have fabulously interesting friends with full lives. By being forced to retreat just from the sheer volume of things I have to do, I am learning that sometimes when I don’t hear from those wonderful people, it’s because they are this busy (or even busier). I miss them when they retreat and I miss them now, but I am grateful for a community that understands.

Partners and Families

“Because we shared everything, we enriched one another’s education.” – Maggie Michael

I feel amazingly blessed to share my life with a creative man. My husband is a visual artist and got his BFA in painting and photography before I could even admit that I wanted to be a writer. Unfortunately for him, when he graduated, neither one of us knew enough to know that the likelihood of him getting to be just an artist was slim. I pushed and prodded and I think a lot of the fun of the art went away for him. We’re in a place now where he’s starting to explore that again, but I wish I could have been as good of a creative partner to him when he graduated as he was to me when I did.

But I am grateful to share my life with someone who values aesthetics as much as I do and who can talk about art movements and big ideas. I don’t expect him to care about epistrophe, but the way he looks at the world enriches my thinking every day. And sometimes, when I’m on deadline, he takes over the cooking for weeks at a time (and does a better job at it then we do together).

Parenthood

“Many people seem to give us extra credit because we involve our child in our life as artists.” – Dan Steinhilber

One thing I have been very concerned about in choosing a creative life is how to support kids both emotionally and financially and still finding time to write. I’ve been very impressed by my writer friends who’ve had children and continue to write. Some say it teaches you efficiency. I think if I get any more efficient I might just crack, but I’m willing to try.

On the financial front, we’ll figure something out when the time comes, but I was very heartened to read Julie Blackmon’s essay and how she handles parenthood. She says, ” I give myself permission to be a really bad mother for a few days” and the way she describes chips for dinner and other insanity makes me realize that it’s a vacation for the kids too. We all need to let our hair down sometimes.

Living

“Life has to be nourished first. Creativity follows sustenance.” – Justin Quinn

Today I will let my hair down. I’ve turned in final edits on two books in the last month. I’ve written that glossary and those translation notes. I’m halfway done compiling a marketing list. I’m way behind on organizing a panel for AWP, and I had to ask for an extension on a magazine writing project I care very deeply about. But it’s time to recharge so I’m off to Port Townsend for the day with my husband and his camera.

I realize I’ve told you very little about Living and Sustaining a Creative Life and rather focused on how I live and sustain mine. It’s an essential book, and I hope you’ll read it when you are feeling the pressure of deadlines or your day job or just wishing your friends could come out and discuss what it feels like to lead a creative life.

We learn from each other I’d love to hear more about how you do it all in the comments below.

If this review made you want to read the book, pick up a copy of Living and Sustaining a Creative Life from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

The Art of Writing: Under the Jaguar Sun by Italo Calvino

January 19, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA 4 Comments

There are a very few authors whose work I love so much that I covet and then hide their books away so I don’t read all of them at once. Italo Calvino is at the top of that list. So when my husband gave me Under the Jaguar Sun for Christmas, I thought I’d stumble on it some day in the future when I really needed a good read.

But something he said about the title story and love and adventure made me read the book just a few days later, and I’m so glad I did. I was performing final edits on two manuscripts at the time and if there is ever a time in a writer’s life that she needs a good book, it’s during those final edits when you think you’ve done everything you can to a book and need a little boost. I’ve always loved Calvino, but what he showed me in just a few pages made my work infinitely better.

Be warned: I’m going to spoil (a little) some plots in this review, but I don’t think that will take very much away from the pleasure of reading this book for the first time. If you’re worried, though, stop reading here and come back and chat with me when you’ve read the book. It’s only 86 pages so don’t be too long.

Writing for All Senses

This book was conceived as a series of stories that each focus on one sense. Although Calvino worked on it over a period of 13 years, he only completed three. I’m somewhat embarrassed to say I didn’t realize that was the conceit of the book until the end, but that also tells you a bit about how I surrender to Calvino and just let him do whatever he wants with my brain.

It’s not uncommon in writing workshops to draft a story that focuses on a sense. I wish I could do it as well as Calvino does and I love the way that his focus shapes the very nature of the story. “Under the Jaguar Sun” is a relatively traditional narrative about a couple visiting Mexico that focuses on taste. The story is gorgeous and well-written, which I’ll go into more in a moment, but it didn’t prepare me at all for “A King Listens.” That second story is a monologue told in second person to you, the reader, the king. The way the focus of the narration shifts from quotidian advice to implications of rumor that breed suspicion and paranoia is flat-out brilliant. It played with the fleeting nature of hearing and how we interpret the implications of what people tell us.

“Epigraphs in an undecipherable language, half their letters rubbed away y the sand-laden wind: this is what you will be, O parfumeries, for the noseless man of the future.” – Italo Calvino, “The Name, the Nose.”

The third story, “The Name, the Nose” captures the ineffable magic of scent as a man seeks to find the woman who so bewitched him with her perfume. The story plays with the power of our sense of smell to provoke memory and also the way that memory sometimes shifts as we recall it. The way the story unfolds is a huge part of the magic, so that I will not spoil here.

Showing Your Hand

The art of writing, in the hands of masters, is about manipulating the experience of the reader so the words you put on the page evoke what you want them to, even though each person brings his or her lifetime of connotations into their reading of it. Like a magician, one of the ways Calvino does this is by telling you what he’s going to do to you before he does it.

This is most obvious in “Under the Jaguar Sun” when the couple encounters Salustiano who becomes a sort of guide. The narrator describes him thusly:

“It was his way of speaking–or, rather one of his ways; the copious information Salustiano supplied (about the history and customs and nature of his country his erudition was inexhaustible) was either stated emphatically like a war proclamation or slyly insinuated as if it were charged with all sorts of implied meanings.” – Italo Calvino, “Under the Jaguar Sun”

Okay, that’s all a pretty cool description of character. But it’s also the key to what the narrator is interested in about the man and about what he’s just learned from this character and will soon try out on us.

“From one locality to the next the gastronomic lexicon varied, always offering new terms to be recorded and new sensations to be defined. Instead [of chiles en nogada], we found guacamole, to be scooped up with crisp tortillas that snap into many shards and dip like spoons into the thick cream (the fat softness of the aguacate–the Mexican national fruit, known to the rest of the world under the distorted name of “avocado”–is accompanied and underlined by the angular dryness of the tortilla, which, for its part, can have many flavors, pretending to have none)” – Italo Calvino, “Under the Jaguar Sun”

What Calvino is doing here, besides giving me a wicked craving for guacamole, is deconstructing the sensation of encountering these things so that they are new to us by calling attention to the renaming of the avocado. He’s insinuating that the things we encounter that seem bland–the tortilla chips–have a flavor and rich experience all their own. In the context of the story, this passage also has implications about how we fail to appreciate the flavors of our lovers.

Because Calvino is so adept at this sleight of writing, this manipulation expands and enhances the story for me. I enjoy it rather than bucking against it.

Repetition

A friend once told me that things need to be repeated seven times in a book for a reader to really catch on. I’m not sure if that same number holds for a short story, but Calvino definitely uses repetition as emphasis and he does it so subtly that you’re constantly re-encountering information without feeling like you’ve heard that all before.

In the case of “Under the Jaguar Sun,” some of the most powerful repetition revolves around Olivia, the narrator’s lover, and eating. At first he very carefully observes her eating, following as she chewed “the tension as it moved from her lips to her nostrils, flaring one moment, contracting the next.” Later, they are at a temple having just heard about human sacrifice and he focuses on her “strong, sharp teeth and sensed there a restrained desire, an expectation.”

The subtle repetition of theme slowly sinks in as you read, and the way Calvino handles eating, especially in relation to Olivia, evolves very quickly throughout the story. What it ultimately says about her relationship to the narrator made me glad this wasn’t the story of my relationship. But the story is very evocative and I think we’ve all been in that place at least once.

I’ll return to this book, as I plan to return to all my Calvinos, when I need that boost of writing excellence. Who are the writers who speak to the way you write and who teach you with every word they put on paper?

If this review made you want to learn from Calvino, pick up a copy of Under the Jaguar Sun from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin Fails to Woo Me

January 5, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA 4 Comments

Books are my sanctuary. They are how I learn about the world and myself. And they are where I take solace when having a bad day. So when a book fails me (and I fail to put it down), everything in my life feels askew. This happened recently with Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (also called Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières.

Auspicious Beginnings

As I lay down in bed with the first few pages of this book, I was enchanted by the story of Dr. Iannis extracting a decades-old pea from a patient’s ear. It was a delightful story and so unexpected. As I drifted off to sleep, I revisited my vague, sweet memories of the movie starring Nicholas Cage and Penelope Cruz and was looking forward to more.

Maddening Monologues

When I opened the book again the next day on the bus, I was confused to be ensconced in a first-person monologue. And then it seemed to be followed by another. My recollections are inexact at this moment because I’ve tried to block the story from my mind, but I was placed directly inside the mind of Il Duce, Metaxas, and someone called (at that point) simply “The Homosexual.” The chapter titles told me who was speaking but the text failed to tell me why I cared and I struggled to find the overarching story. I kept reading because it was the only book I had with me (the argument that may some day convince me to get an e-reader), but I wasn’t happy about it.

I think if I had some understanding of World War II in Greece (and a better understanding of Mussolini), I might have gotten more out of those first-person narratives. Instead I was annoyed and felt bandied about. I was looking somewhat for the story I thought I knew (although I did not remember enough of the film to make the same mistake I had the first time I read The English Patient) or the story that enchanted me that first night, so I kept reading.

Sweet Moments of Romance

Interwoven with those first-person assaults were little gems of Pelagia and her father, the doctor. And there were adorable moments of Pelagia falling for a local boy, Mandras. They were romantic like I remember the movie being. They were also a little expected. When Pelagia admired Mandras, I felt like de Bernières was writing how he would want to be admired. Perhaps that’s a writer’s prerogative (I’ve done it), but it felt vain and made me feel more separate from the story.

When Mandras becomes inconvenient, his character becomes less interesting. I don’t take issue with Pelagia’s falling out of love with him, that seemed quite natural given their separation, but I did start to wonder why this Greek god we had been supposed to admire was suddenly shunted aside into the realm of one-dimensional characters.

Captain Corelli and Pelagia also held my interest for awhile. I kept wanting to put the book down but had just enough interest in the characters to keep me going. And, much to my relief, the monologues seemed to subside.

Choosing Titles

I’m thinking a lot about titles right now as I seek the perfect name for my novel which is due to be released later this year. I’m rubbish with titles so for a long time the book was called simply Polska. As the book neared completion I examined the themes and writing and started calling the book Murmurs of the River after Chopin’s “Murmures de la Seine” which had influenced some of the rhythm of the book, but I knew the title was weak, so now I’m looking for something that will make a reader pick my book off of a virtual shelf without betraying the content. I have pages of lists of potential words and one good candidate. UPDATE: My editor and I chose to go back to basics and call this book Polska, 1994.

What I’m saying is that I know titles are both very important and very difficult. Still, I was surprised when it felt like I didn’t meet the title character (both Corelli and the mandolin) until halfway through the book. That might not be true because I read the beginning much slower than I read the end. But to me Pelagia was the center of this book, not the mandolin.

I’ve spoiled so much that I won’t go into the ending here, but I will say that the tone and style of the book changes about halfway through. And that wasn’t just because I was skimming it while waiting for the plumber to replace our pipes. I usually try to respect a writer’s decisions as final, but in this case I will say that this large book which is trying to say so many things could have used another edit with an eye to theme. I kept reading, but I was mostly sorry I did. I should have done myself the favor of putting down the book and enjoying happy memories of the beginning.

If you are a more patient soul than I, pick up a copy of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Looking for Writing Help and Inspiration in the New Year

December 29, 2013 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

I’m not very good at asking for help. Most of the time that’s okay because writing is such a solitary activity, but there are times when I reach a writing plateau that reading 1,000 books won’t budge me from. At those times, the best thing I can do for myself is take a writing class.

I was stuck this year. More stuck than I had been in a long time. I was working on a book I started just after grad school (three years and counting) that never went anywhere. It got longer but not more defined. The theme shifted as I grew, but the writing wasn’t looking more like a book. I needed help.

Reaching Out to a Writing Community

The safest place to turn for writing help (before I get up the gumption to take a class) is another writer. I spent a wonderful October afternoon with Liza Wolff-Francis in Austin, TX talking about writing and, more importantly, about not writing. We visited independent bookstores and confessed our difficulties. It felt amazing to share the problems I was having with someone who knew exactly what I felt like.

ModPo from Coursera and the University of Pennsylvania

Liza also told me about a modern poetry class she was taking online, ModPo from the Kelly Writers House at the University of Pennsylvania. It’s a MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) which means that the barrier to entry was low–I didn’t have to know how good of a student I’d be before I signed up–and that it was okay I was starting the class a month late.

The class was wonderful and I couldn’t get enough. I read poets and poems I knew and ones I’d never heard of. I was inspired to re-examine books I’d read and dismissed as I watched videos of the class TAs discussing the poems and learned about the many ways to read a poem. Through the weeks, I started to feel like I was at that table with new friends discussing poems I liked and others I didn’t but came to understand. There were tens of thousands of students from around the world but the experience was so intimate that I felt like I was part of a writing group that met whenever I had time and would pause for me when I needed to make coffee or breakfast. I did not write the papers in the class and I’m actually still working through the poems in week 8, but I’m so thankful that this resource was available.

I’m grateful to professor Al Filreis, to the TAs, and to Liza. I’m still not working on the new book as much as I’d like, but that’s not because I’m adrift without knowing how to get to shore, it’s because I’ve been blessed to have two books slated for publication next year. I am inspired and I can’t wait to work on distilling the language and ideas for that new book.

ModPo doesn’t start again until September of next year, but if you are curious, it’s worth waiting for. Set yourself a calendar reminder to check this link around that time and sign up.

Sharing Inspiration with Others

Cheers to you, dear readers, because sharing books with you is a constant source of inspiration. The conversations we have in the comments help me think more deeply about the books and knowing that you’re out there keeps me honest about posting regularly. I know my timing has been a bit off over the holidays. As soon as I get these book edits done, I’ll be back on track. Thank you for reading. You are a very important part of my writing community.

If you are feeling full of writing goodness and want to pay it forward, I’d encourage you to support your favorite writing groups with your year-end giving. Two of my favorites are Richard Hugo House (where I’m a board member) and the Kelly Writers House (home of ModPo). Of course it’s the people who make these places alive, but cash helps keep the lights on. You could also bake some cookies for your favorite writing buddy or the person who makes you dinner while you write, or buy a brand new book (preferably from an independent bookstore) to support publishing in general.

I’ll be back in the new year to share with you the books I’m reading. Until then, I wish you a very happy new year full of writing, reading, and inspiration. Much love!