book review Archives - A Geography of Reading

Exploring Sun Alley with Cecilia Ştefănescu

September 8, 2013 by Isla McKetta, MFA 2 Comments

This week I am surrounded by Romania from a thought-provoking post about what people will do for a better life to a search query for my favorite tea that instead returned an album of Romanian celebration music (in French). It all started in Sun Alley, Cecilia Ştefănescu’s award-winning novel about the intoxication and torment of forbidden love.

From the moment the young Sal first sees Emi joyously cutting apart his friends’ most prized magazines, he is enthralled with her and does everything he can to overcome the friends, parents, and life that try to keep them apart.

Central Mystery

More than a retelling of Romeo and Juliet, though, Sun Alley allows the characters to grow up. In fact, what I enjoyed most about this book was the split in time. Just as we are preparing to find out what happens when Sal and Emi prepare to run away from Sun Alley together, the time period flashes suddenly forward to an adult Sal and Emi. We discover that their attempt to flee was unsuccessful (as seemed inevitable) but we don’t learn why or how until much later.

Instead, Ştefănescu keeps the unfinished quality of their love affair in sharp focus. Though they are married to other people, they again find that they cannot bear to be apart and embark on a long, adulterous affair with all of the usual stakes. I’m not trying to be flip, but it’s obvious that husband, wife, and children cannot keep Sal and Emi apart any more than friends and parents could.

Their childhood separation is alluded to over and over as the chapters flash back and forward in time which creates a delicious tension because although we know they are (somewhat) together now, we are constantly reminded how fragile that relationship is because it has been broken before. The wonderful structure conceals as much as it reveals and I started to think about how our shifting memories betray us over time.

Other Mysteries

“He cringed in terror. He knew quite well what was on that table. It was someone. A human being, a body, a creature.” – Cecilia Ştefănescu

There is a second mystery in this book, that of a dead body young Sal finds in a basement one afternoon. It’s a truly creepy scene and made me think about how children really act versus how we like to think they act. I think this book erred on the side of how they really act, though, and it was a good lesson for me about not being squeamish about letting your characters follow their paths. I’m glad Ştefănescu didn’t take a more restrained approach to Sal’s interaction with the body, but I do wish that the body subplot was a more integrated part of the story throughout. There were echoes of it and the resolution (which I will not spoil for you) is just right, but I lost the trail sometimes as I focused on Sal and Emi’s love affair.

Significant Detail

Details show a reader where to focus. When something is important, a writer will often layer in more and more detail to signal to the reader that it’s time to really examine a scene. In the case of Sun Alley I was lost in the detail for nearly all of the first chapter. There are readers who love having every sense titillated along the way as they enter a world. I usually look for a bit more guidance and this overly detailed beginning left me grasping for understanding.

“He thought a while and then lightly touched the cockroach’s hump with his nail. It stopped, curled up and slowly moved its legs, seemingly begging to be left alive. Sal lifted his finger and sat down on the kerb next to the cockroach.” – Cecilia Ştefănescu

This is a stylistic choice and some very popular books like Atonement use the same approach. On rereading this beginning, I found that Ştefănescu does as good of a job at tying these descriptions to her overall theme as McEwan does (which is to say she does it very well), but it still drives me a little nuts.

Writing True Dialogue

One of my favorite parts of the book is a fight that Sal and Emi have at the end. I won’t quote it for you here because I don’t want to reveal too much, but writing a good, tense dialogue is something I struggle with. Here Ştefănescu lays out two characters who are standing their ground firmly and we as readers can see that there are moments when they are talking about completely different things without realizing it. So there is conflict and tension and possible resolution but the scene is so well written that I can easily believe one might never see what the other is truly saying. That’s an art and a delicate balance and Ştefănescu does it very well.

Although the ethnologist in me hoped that something about this book would come off distinctly Romanian and I’d learn more about Ştefănescu’s country of origin, I was not at all disappointed to find instead a book that will appeal to anyone who has ever experienced the joy and suffering of forbidden love.

If this review made you want to explore Sun Alley, pick up a copy from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Writing Advice from Authors Steve Almond and Orhan Pamuk

December 16, 2012 by Isla McKetta, MFA 4 Comments

On days when I’m feeling more like a book reviewer than a novelist, I read books about writing instead of novels. This writing advice from authors usually helps me get back into the writing spirit. When talking about their relationships with their writing, almost everyone hits at least one note that feels familiar, and I find comfort in the camaraderie. This week I had the wonderful luck to catch two completely different takes on writing from Steve Almond and Orhan Pamuk. Though wildly divergent, they were perfect complements to one another.

This Won’t Take But a Minute, Honey

I first found out about Steve Almond through The Lit Series at Richard Hugo House. In preparation for the event, I watched his video about Toto’s “Africa.”

And then I watched the video again. And again. And again. Almond’s reading at Hugo House was thoughtful, creative, and irreverent, and I picked up this tiny, self-published book, This Won’t Take But a Minute, Honey without even caring what precisely it was about.

About the Book

I finally started reading the book this week because I had 20 books left to read to meet my 2012 reading goals and I thought I could power through the 70 pages and move on to the next thing. I was so completely wrong.

Instead, I found myself immersed in these sassy essays about what it means to be a writer. Starting with the wonderfully self-deprecating “Potentially Truthful Statements Regarding My Other Books,” the comments on creativity were not only spot-on, they were hilarious and useful for artists of all stripes. The book was too good not to share, so I read most of it aloud to my husband. When he left the room, I read it to myself first and then read to him again when he came back.

Steve Almond Kicks My Writing Ass

Almond calls us writers out in true tough love fashion on the things that make us writers—the messianic ego and withering self-criticism—and on the things we must cultivate—the bullshit detector. But he’s not standing on the sidelines telling us to be better writers, he’s condensing all the things we already know and he’s saying, “I’ve been there. And you really do have to fucking do this.” That’s not actually a quote, but it could be. Foul-mouthed and real, the essays bleed into one another and build toward this fantastic and tiny writing boot camp.

”For the rest of us, writing is basically flagellation, an undertaking that promises ecstatic release, but mostly feels like torture. I will do anything to avoid writing. I hate every second of it. The only part of the process I like is having written” – Steve Almond

Once you’ve read all the essays, you’ll realize you can flip the book over for a quick selection of stories.

The Naïve and Sentimental Novelist

I picked up The Naïve and Sentimental Novelist by Orhan Pamuk later in the week because of the author, not because I thought I still needed a shove towards writing. If you have been reading this blog for a while, you know how much I love Pamuk—in fact, there he is, quoted at the very top of this page, just below “A Geography of Reading.” He is perhaps the writer I feel most akin to in all the world—an intellectual who struggles to find his inner artist and who blends politics and humanity in his work. I kind of love him. Mostly I want to be him.

About the Book

I’ve read nearly everything Pamuk has had translated into English, but I hadn’t yet read The Naïve and Sentimental Novelist, his collected Norton Lectures. It was the right size to finish during this reading challenge (I can read about 200 pages in a day) so I stopped saving it for later and dove right in.

Orhan Pamuk Appeals to My Inner Reader

Pamuk starts out from the point of view of a reader and looks at how we experience books as we read them. As writers, we are first readers and all the books we have ever read have been teaching us, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that we are building experiences for people like us. We don’t have to write with our audience in mind, but we should be aware of the effects we are creating on the page.

Pamuk goes on to talk about the ways we blend fiction and reality and whether we really want to even separate the two. He also covers topics like experiencing the world through the eyes of a character unlike you, how we visualize when reading, and writing to the center of the story as a search for the meaning of life. It’s a beautiful book and also very personal. My copy is heavily underlined already and I look forward to visiting it again and again.

“The experienced novelist goes along knowing that the center will gradually emerge as he writes, and that the most challenging and rewarding aspect of his work will be finding this center and bringing it into focus” – Orhan Pamuk

I have 12 books left to read this year, and then I’m going to get back to writing that next book. Pinkie swear.

Other Resources for Writing Kinship

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. If you are a beginning writer, start here. She will teach you that you have a voice and all you need is to start putting words on a page, one by one.
The Paris Review Interviews (also collected as Writers at Work). For fifty years The Paris Review has been interviewing the big names in fiction, poetry, memoir, screenwriting ,and playwriting about what it means to be a writer. Whether you read them individually or read a slew at once, you will see yourself on the page.
Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. Generations of writers have taken solace in and courage from these thoughtful letters from a master to a novice.
The Triggering Town by Richard Hugo. These essays on writing and poetry could only have been written by a teacher who loved teaching.
Other writers. If you do not have a writing group or buddy, find one. Surround yourself with people who challenge you but also get you. I have both a critique group and a writing buddy, plus I am lucky enough to be surrounded by writers. These are the people who remind me that I am not alone, even though my work must be completed in solitude.

Leave me a quick note in the comments to share your favorite sources for writing kinship and then get your ass back to writing.

Pick up a copy of The Naive and the Sentimental Novelist from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Quiet Restraint in American Visa by Wang Ping

October 9, 2012 by Isla McKetta, MFA 2 Comments

American Visa: Short Stories by Wang Ping covers locations as disparate as the Red Chinese countryside and the New York Subway. The life of her character, Seaweed, is never easy, but the author’s telling of the stories using only the sparest detail removes all trace of melodrama and lets the reader experience it for herself. Using short declarative sentences, Wang lays out the bare facts of the Cultural Revolution, spousal abuse, making it in America as an immigrant, and feeling unloved as a child.

Precise Adjectives

In one paragraph in “Lipstick,” Wang summarizes the barest details the reader needs to know about the Cultural Revolution for the effect of the story. “Who still had the guts to keep a lipstick in 1971, the prime time of the Cultural Revolution? Anything which was related to beauty, whether Western or Oriental, had been banned.” The only adjectives in those two sentences are prime, Western, and Oriental and yet Wang conveys the force of the danger Seaweed was encountering as she explored this forbidden femininity.

Raising the Stakes

“I’d secretly been trading books at school through a well-organized underground network. Everyone obeyed its strict rules: Never betray the person you got the book from; never delay returning books; never re-lend without the owner’s permission.”

Wang identifies the stakes without ever naming the punishment. The reader is dropped into a world of conspiracy and rebellion by school kids and is left to imagine what terrible fate would befall the students if they were caught.

Similarly, she goes from describing Seaweed’s pinching to their mother’s reaction “My mother always punished me with the bamboo stick behind the door.” She fills in the sisterly rivalry, but leads the mother’s punishment up to the imagination.

Always Leave Them Wanting More

Perhaps it is growing up with movies and television, but I am used to having all the blood and guts played out for me. A severed foot is a gross-out tool, but it doesn’t serve a greater purpose. By not telling me what the soldiers would do or what her mother would do with that bamboo stick, Wang has captured my imagination, and the imagination is often much more brutal than what the writer would have described.

Wang doesn’t shy away from bad things, only awful, and that makes my interpretation of the awful even worse. “The Story of Ju” opens “Ju hung herself on the eve of her wedding.” Obviously this is not going to be a happy story, but the simplicity of the sentence shaped my view of the world Seaweed lives in, a world where sadness is quotidian and characters are resigned to their fates, where “the dead are dead.” Even in describing the abuse Ju’s mother, Crazy Hua, suffers, Wang gives us the aftermath rather than the event. “After that, she came to work every day, often starved and badly bruised.” There is no hope that Hua will ever escape her circumstances but Wang is not elaborating on the horrors of their lives with grisly detail, she simply names them.

It isn’t until Wang lets Ju speak for herself that the reader is privy to the events themselves. Even then, as Ju describes her mother kneeling “on the broken pieces of the bowl.” or her stepfather demanding she “replace” her mother as she’s tied to a chair, Wang had so prepared me to imagine my own horrors that the scene came alive in gruesome detail, but only in my imagination. In reflecting on the story, I find it has taken on a new life in my imagination and in fact I remember the details I created as though they were actually written into the story.

Tight Sentences

Although Wang is writing in a second language, there is no accent or accident in her sentences. The entire flavor of Seaweed’s relationship with her sister Sea Cloud is contained in the two sentences that start “American Visa.”

“Sea Cloud asked me to help her get out of China on the night when we were sailing from Shanghai to Dinghai to attend Father’s funeral. I was surprised as well as pleased.”

If this story stood alone, the reader would know from these two sentences that Seaweed is the stronger sister who has managed to escape circumstance and therefore has power in the relationship, but that Seaweed doesn’t know it. Seaweed craves the acceptance of her sister, whom she envies. We also see that it was difficult for Sea Cloud to come down from her perceived pedestal and ask her sister for something, she had to wait for a moment of quiet during a time that would have brought them closer in sharing grief for their father. Two short sentences, almost entirely devoid of adjectives, and Wang manages to convey a lifetime of struggle between two sisters.

In Polska, 1994, I wrestled with how to describe a rape scene and a culture that is foreign to my audience. I wanted the reader to feel the full force of the scene because it causes the transformation in the main character, but I wasn’t sure how graphically I want to lay it out. Wang showed me to use description of horrors carefully. I don’t want to bowl the reader over, I want to provide them the tools to bowl themselves over.

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

The Methods in Jakov Lind’s Madness

October 5, 2012 by Karen Hugg, MFA 1 Comment

Most stories don’t smash me to bits. As I read them, I’m moved, enchanted, worried, dismayed, relieved, sometimes annoyed. But Jakov Lind’s Soul of Wood and Other Stories just left me flattened, feeling empty, and as if I were stranded in a strange shapeless place. The question “Wow, what was that all about?” kept looping in my head like a song, and I was unable to find an answer.

But I think the answer lies in not only the mad brilliance of the story itself, but more so, for me as a writer, in the craft of how Lind created the story. By story I mean the novella, Soul of Wood, which opens the collection. The later short stories are also impressive in their own way, but Soul of Wood is the masterpiece. It’s set in Austria in the 1940s and follows Wohlbrecht, a crippled Austrian soldier, who works to hide Anton Barth, a mostly paralyzed Jewish boy, in a mountain cabin. He enlists the help of Alois, his brother-in-law, and the first half of the book centers on the two’s endeavors of dragging Barth up through the woods while trying to avoid the Nazis and their random air attacks.

Shot from all Sides by Point of View

Lind’s voice is somehow casual, witty, romantic and brusquely masculine all at once. It doesn’t just blast its way through the narrative, but rather tumbles with a clear urgency. This was probably the first technique that I’d love to emulate (oh, if I could.) But what’s crazier and even more unattainable is how the point of view wanders. It, at times, becomes dreamy and surreal before landing flatly in stark reality. Take, for instance, the following passage occurring early in the story, which by the way could be a spoiler, depending on how you view the narrative. Read at your own risk.

As Wohlbrecht and Alois return from the cabin, they stop at the side of the road. Wohlbrecht lays and dozes in the hay as Alois talks of his post-war plans. Alois plans to visit Rumania in an effort to cure his epilepsy. In one paragraph, Alois talks about a renowned doctor and his treatment that Alois believes will mend all aspects of his life. In another, the grand wealth that he and all of Vienna will enjoy after the war. As readers we are relaxed at this point in the passage, imagining hopeful situations and feeling a tender intimacy with Alois.

Then: “The loud engine sounds woke up Wohlbrecht.” This kicks off a random rotation of omniscient narration, stream of consciousness and Wohlbrecht’s spoken words. There’s little punctuation to help us distinguish between what’s happening, what’s being said and what’s being thought.

“Jumping Jesus, he cried, they’ll fly right up my ass. A burst of machine-gun fire beat down like rain on the tin roof and by the time Wohlbrecht cried ‘Cover!’ Alois was dead. Hit right in the back of the head. The blood gushed like a geyser. Alois, Alois, Wohlbrecht yelled thinking he was still asleep. Alois, where’d it get you? Alois didn’t move. Alois, don’t pretend, say something. Alois said nothing. It was so still he could hear a beetle scratching in the hay.”

Here, this mishmash of point of view hits us in the gut. We’re dealing with the sudden chaos of the moment, which poetically reflects the sudden chaos of the entire war experience. It also shows the contrast between life and death, the potential of the future and the negation of it in how Alois is dreaming of better years to come when he is suddenly killed. By the end of these few paragraphs, we’re jarred, upset, and left processing what just happened – as Wohlbrecht is. Lind doesn’t just describe trauma, he hurls us into it so we experience it first hand. That he does this by manipulating point of view is amazing.

There are other amazing aspects to Soul of Wood as well. The plot of the book later bends back on itself and we discover that much of the seemingly random events, forgotten images and off-hand mentions of names and people actually come together in a larger symbolic coherence. That coherence makes this novella one of the most under-appreciated of our time.

The Shorter Works

The Other Stories in the title are mostly outlandish, grotesque short stories rooted in the trauma of World War II. In one, a piano teacher is haunted by his past as an S.S. officer. A traveler stumbles upon a family of cannibals. A man follows his neighbor to a kind of speakeasy only to find a featureless woman who somehow sets him free. A killer about to be executed dreams of killing his father in revenge. Two men, a Jew and a Catholic-converted-Jew, share a snug hole as they hide from the Nazis. Somehow these shorter pieces unfold with a tongue-in-cheek wit. They’re also somewhat allegorical though what they represent is too complex and hidden to explore here. Suffice to say they embody Lind’s seemingly unstable spirit, macabre wit and clever narrative arcs, which leave writers like me both horrified and smiling.

If this review made you want to read the book, pick up a copy of Soul of Wood from Powell’s Books. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business.

Review of How to Market a Book

October 1, 2012 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

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.