A Geography of Reading

"It is by reading novels, stories, and myths that we come to understand the world in which we live." -Orhan Pamuk

Review of How to Market a Book

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If you need this book, it means you are (or will soon be) published. Congratulations on getting your work out in the world!

Set aside for a moment your depression over having to market your own book. You can always choose not to. But if you want to sell books (and maintain a good relationship with your publisher) today’s world does require you to be involved in marketing your book (and yourself). How to Market a Book is a guide by book marketers for writers new to marketing.

I don’t normally review how-to books, but I’m making an exception here because I know a lot of writers who would find this book useful.

The Dreaded Platform

Marketing can be intimidating for writers, and the rapidly changing landscape of the internet can make anyone feel out of date. How to Market a Book is written in a collegial tone and provides a good introduction to what is sometimes called “building a platform.” I know, I hate the word “platform” too and I give the authors of this book credit for using it sparingly. When I do it, I call it working on my brand—not much better but at least I can imagine myself wrapped in a pretty label (rather than standing on a soap box).

Is This the Book for You?

The strengths of How to Market a Book lie in the explanations of how and why you need to build a website and social media presence and the focus on marketing the writer rather than the book (despite this book’s title). It’s a brave undertaking to write an Internet guide because the landscape changes so fast (the Twitter profile section is already slightly, but not significantly, out of date) but authors Lori Culwell and Katherine Sears do a good job of emphasizing the tried and true methods like Twitter and Facebook while information on other avenues to explore.

How to Market a Book provides a primer for the author who is just looking up from a final draft into the chasm of the Internet, and I would have loved to have this book available when I was marketing Soul’s Road. At times the book started to feel like a list of social media platforms available, and I wish that it included a clearer triage for the author who is overwhelmed by the plethora of options (as so many authors newer to the Internet reasonably are). For example, the section on building subject matter expertise on Answers.com (and the like), while useful for nonfiction writers, could become a procrastination sinkhole for fiction authors. Statistics on return on investment would be a great addition if the Culwell and Sears decide to issue a second edition.

If you are a social media-savvy author with an active Twitter account and website, you might find some tips and tricks in this book (I flipped back and forth between the book and my own profiles to tweak them), but could be bored by explanations of how to use Facebook “as” a page.

Beyond the Internet

The book contains helpful advice on things like proofreading, editing, book design, and press releases. There is a short section on book tours (these are not the go-to they once were). And the thoughts on how (and when) to reply to a review are must-reads. Also, the tip on what to have ready for your personal author kit is invaluable.

Here’s My Advice

Because I work in marketing and spend a lot of time on social media, my friends often ask me for advice. I tell them that yes, you have to market yourself. We are in an age where people want to connect to us, the artists, and it will be much more difficult to sell books if we deny them that access. Find the avenues that feel natural to you and invest most of your efforts there. If you can’t do another social media platform well, don’t start the account. There are lots of tools available to help you manage your accounts, but don’t spend all your time looking for those tools. Read this book, set up your online presence, and then get back to writing that next book.

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

Turning History into Herstory with Hazleton’s Jezebel

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Jezebel - lesley hazletonI have deep respect for Lesley Hazleton. In some ways I want to be her—internationally-savvy, fantastic voice and accent, able to read the Bible in Hebrew. When I heard that she was investigating the story of the Bible’s harlot queen with Jezebel, I was excited to get a better picture of both the Bible and of the way women’s sexuality has been used against us throughout history.

A New Midrash—Interweaving History and Narrative

Jezebel is written from a variety of angles. Hazleton mixes a direct retelling of the story based her own translations from the Hebrew Bible with stories of her travels to the historical places (two especially telling anecdotes involve Christian fundamentalists at the site of Armageddon gleefully calculating how much blood it will take to fill the valley and Hazleton’s attempts to find a holy site that has nearly been erased by history). Hazleton also includes imagined looks at the events of Jezebel’s lifetime from the point of view of the queen herself.

“It is easy to forget that [the Bible] was written by specific men in specific times and places, for specific reasons.” – Lesley Hazleton

This unexpected mix of approaches gave me a more complex view of the stories and the players. Shifting through time allowed Hazleton to make comparisons to modern day politics in the Middle East. I like to think Jezebel was like reading a new Midrash (most everything I know about the Old Testament, I know from reading Davita’s Harp).

Reading the Bible through the Eyes of Others

I am no Biblical scholar—I wasn’t raised with any more religion than I could glean from the (Christian) cultures I grew up in and from books. When I tried to read the King James translation for myself, I never got past the begats. That is to say, my experience of the Bible has always been filtered through the experiences of others. So I loved hearing stories of ancient gods, kings, and queens and their struggles for power. It is clear that Hazleton brought to this book an admiration of Ahab and Jezebel. And the comparisons to modern politics were apt and informative. I appreciated that Hazleton was trying to remove the mask of Orientalism and I could see ways in which a religion is shaped by its believers.

What did not work for me were the moments when Hazleton imbued the scenes with what Jezebel must have been thinking. She did a solid job of outlining the character and I liked the fierce strength and nobility that Hazleton attributed to her, but it was more of a leap into story than I was willing to take.

Overall, it was refreshing to get a contemporary, female view of the Bible. But in the end, I realized that the only way to satisfy my need to get my own full understanding will be to learn Hebrew and read the Bible for myself.

Women Aren’t Sexual Beings—We Are Whole Beings

I was intrigued by the idea of a “harlot queen.” The word “harlot” and its brethren “bitch, slut, whore” and so many others are still used against women today and usually in instances that have everything to do with power and nothing to do with sex.

What I found interesting about Jezebel is that Hazleton removes sex from the equation entirely. A book I thought might be about how female sexuality is positive (rather than negative) turned out to be about the power of a woman as a person. Perhaps this is the more important leap because a person is entitled to power and sexuality and entirety.

I realized that my own investigations into sexuality and feminism with my new novel might be limited. I have been fighting to understand female sexuality and have it seen as equal to that of men. Perhaps instead I should be looking at women as whole people. Maybe I have allowed the very people who seek to minimize my sex to set the terms of this battle.

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

The Rich Landscape of Writing in Outerborough Blues

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What happens when an MFA writes genre fiction? With all the flack writing programs get for producing uniform voices, you might think the two are antithetical. But when Andrew Cotto used his MFA from The New School to write Outerborough Blues he brought the skills of a trained writer to the conventions of a mystery novel.

Because this literary/genre divide is sometimes fightin’ territory for writers from both camps, let’s get a couple of things out of the way first so you know where I’m coming from.

Do you need an MFA to write well?

Of course not. Everyone’s definition of good writing is different, but I believe to write well you need careful attention to the words that are your tools. Studying for an MFA gives you time to consider those tools and the effect to which you use them, but there are loads of great non-MFA writers and some of them (Jonathan Lethem is a favorite) could be considered genre writers.

What is genre fiction anyway?

The distinction between genre fiction and literary fiction usually breaks down to plot driven versus character driven. There are all kinds of genres (mystery, fantasy, science fiction) and I really don’t like to draw too many lines, but sometimes putting a name to something lends easy description.

The richness of Outerborough Blues

I can see Cotto’s MFA in this book in some very positive ways. These are a few things I do not expect to see (but am always grateful for) in a mystery novel.

Strong characters

If I told you the catalyst of the story is the moment a beautiful woman walks into the bar where Caesar Stiles works, I would not be doing this story justice. Stiles is no Bud White (especially not the film version) and he’s got a lot more on his mind than helping this moll. His relationships with his family and the other characters in the story are multifaceted and this gives the novel depth.

Strong sense of theme

The title “Outerborough Blues” has a subtle musical element that could be fleshed out or it could be left unexplored. Cotto develops the musical theme with “Slow, flowing progressions in a melancholy key” in two notable ways. One is the way the narrator overlays the sounds of the neighborhood with the music on his stereo. The second is the way the stories about his past relationships build like verses of a song.

Evocative sentences

A writer with control over his or her tools has the ability to set a scene with a very few words. Here are some of Cotto’s sentences that do just that:

  • “The lady in the liquor store sold me a fifth of whiskey and the landlord’s name without taking her eyes off the book she was reading.”
  • “My boot pulverized broken vials on the cracked sidewalk.”
  • One character describes the evolution of the neighborhood as “Milk and honey turned to malt liquor.”

Layered stories

Outerborough Blues tell several stories at once. This could be cacophonous, but Cotto gently layers the tales of family relationships, gentrification, and the mystery at hand that they become as inextricably linked as any real life. As the aspects of the story unfold over the reader, you are exposed to more and more aspects of the story and the community it takes place in. All in 200 pages.

Is there really a difference between genre and literary fiction?

Cotto reinforced for me something I learned while studying for my MFA at Goddard College (one of the MFA programs which prides itself on welcoming genre writers): good writing is not at all limited by genre. Some people want really well described characters. Some want fast, tight plots in rich worlds. Good writing happens in both camps and great writing blurs the lines between them. Cotto has done just that.

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

Sex and Death in the American Novel

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sex and death in the american novel - sarah martinez

I’ve been thinking a lot about bravery this week and about commitment to one’s art. It all started at the book launch party for Sex and Death in the American Novel. The book’s author, Sarah Martinez, had invited Maureen O’Donnell to perform a belly dance to the music of Marilyn Manson that had inspired Martinez while writing her novel. I thought it was going to be ridiculous. But then I watched O’Donnell dance. By committing fully to the dance and her character, she transformed from a tiny Goth girl with plastic horns into an arachnoid creature who kept the audience rapt.

The Artist’s Way

Sex and Death in the American Novel speaks to the myriad ways we come to and commit to our art and ultimately ourselves. Jasper is the wunderkind who was swept into the accepting arms of the writing world and never stopped for a moment to reflect. Tristan is the writer who could never get past his struggles. And Vivi did everything she could to avoid becoming a “Writer” only to find she had done just that. In Vivi’s case, all that she lacked was the acceptance of herself and of her gift.

Every artist I know is on a different path to the greatness within. None of them will achieve lasting fulfillment without that self-acceptance.

Martinez’s greatest success is disentangling the complex fabric of emotions each character is feeling. She understands the push-pull of shame and desire in art and love, and her characters strive to create the relationships that are right for them regardless of societal norms. And of course those norms are also what artists have to question and redefine on their way to personal greatness.

Explicit Content Ahead

The book follows Vivi’s struggle to be as strong and fulfilled as she can, and at times she seeks that fulfillment in sex. Martinez is not shy about describing those sexual encounters and she explores a wider range of erotic possibilities than many people will encounter in life.

One of the things I admired about this book is how Martinez conveyed both the physical and emotional complexities of a ménage à trois. She enticingly wrote the encounters between her characters so that the reader is able to experience—in vivid detail—even the most unfamiliar acts right along with Vivi. The play-by-play narration which can be too much in scenes of daily life lends itself perfectly to introducing the reader to a new world of possibilities.

Anyone who reads Fifty Shades of Grey and finds it misogynistic might enjoy the sex positive attitude in Sex and Death in the American Novel instead.

On Writing About (and Becoming) a Fulfilled Woman

I’ve been reading a lot about women and sexuality as I work on my next novel. A.S. Byatt taught me to love my body. Dorothy Allison helped me question my relationship with Feminism. And Slavenka Drakulić revealed for me new depths in the relationship between mother and daughter. In Sex and Death in the American Novel, Sarah Martinez showed me how to write fearlessly about subjects that terrify me. Each of these authors is giving me strength as I commit to writing the next book as bravely as I can.

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

Drakulić Decrypts the Language of Mothers and Daughters in Marble Skin

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Is there a relationship more complex than that between a mother and a daughter? Love and admiration mix ineffably with jealousy and resentment. Through the seemingly simple (but deeply layered) language of Marble Skin, Slavenka Drakulić unweaves the conflicts and emotions that estrange and entangle women.

A girl admires her mother’s body and yearns for the day when her own will blossom. If she becomes impatient with the slowness of her growth, jealousy of her mother’s womanliness can take root. The mother in turn becomes jealous of her daughter’s youth.

Drakulić’s narrator deftly slips through time as she expresses this love, admiration, and resentment for her mother. She outlines with equal complexity the feelings of a burgeoning adolescent for her stepfather and how his presence catalyzes the relationship between mother and daughter.

”We don’t have a body, we are a body” – Slavenka Drakulić

At the beginning of the book, the narrator is reflecting on an art show and a comment by a friend that her “sculptures of the female body seemed eaten away from the inside.” She begins sculpting her mother’s body. As she shapes breasts and thighs, she begins thinking of her mother’s body and of a scene she witnessed as a child.

The Primal Scene

Psychoanalysts talk about the primal scene when a child witnesses a sex act and it affects her view of sexuality for life. The narrator views a watches her stepfather in a sexual act with her mother in their marriage bed. It is an act this man will later reenact with the girl.

The way Drakulić crafts the scene, with a gentle allusion to Alice in Wonderland, the reader simultaneously experiences the dread of entering the room as an adult and the memory of the mother’s body splayed on the bed. Without revealing the later molestation, the reader is still left with the sense of a lurking secret. The sense of the small child within all of us.

What was most haunting about the book for me was that these are normal human emotions that I have experienced but never knew how to express. Drakulić split open her characters and subjected them to horrible things and their responses always returned to the common human reactions. Witnessing the girl’s devastation of sexuality helped me understand my own relationship with sexuality.

The Craft of Writing

It may be evident by the somewhat articulate nature of this post so far, but this book invaded my psyche in a way I can’t yet understand. The simple sentences expressed emotions I had been trying to unlock and explain for decades. The metaphors were gentle and expansive. The literary allusions were subtle and perfect.

”With this one sentence I emptied her out, like squeezing a tube of oil paint.” – Slavenka Drakulić

Drakulić emptied me out too. Her writing ate away at me from the inside. I’m putting the book aside until I can read it again. I think I can read and reread this book for decades and it will still have things to teach me about writing and about being a woman. That is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

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