Questions Worth Answering

So, whether you buy the arguments in the latest NEA report about the state of reading or not, I find this question by Dana Gioia as posed in the relevant Washington Post article to be a good one:

"What we’re trying to do is say: These are the facts. This is a framework to understand the issues. Let’s talk about it," Gioia said. And the key question is: What are the consequences if America becomes "a nation in which reading is a minority activity?"

My answer in a word would be: BAD. But that’s only because I’m too busy to rattle on. What do you guys think?

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Hot Fiction

Shiner02Oh, happy day redux. Subterranean has announced that they’re going to put all Lew Shiner’s work back in print AND start with his new novel, Black & White, which sounds abso-mo-lutely brill. Here’s the description from the announcement:

When Michael follows his dying father to North Carolina, a lifetime of lies begins to unravel. His pursuit of his father’s past–haunted by voodoo, adultery and murder–takes him to a place called Hayti, once the most prosperous black community in the South. Now the mysteries of Michael’s own heritage become a matter of life and death, as racial conflicts barely restrained since the 1960s erupt again.

Rooted in the true story of the US government’s urban renewal policy and its disastrous aftermath, Black & White is a literary thriller, a family saga, and a searing portrait of institutionalized hatred.

Jonathan Lethem compares it to the work of George Pelecanos and Richard Price in a blurb.

In the meantime, don’t forget about Shiner’s Fiction Liberation Front site, where you can read lots of free, wonderful stories by this wholly underrated writer.

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Mini-Hangovers

Because a girl this addicted to the ‘net can’t go cold turkey.

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Shiny Magazine Love

I should have subscribed to The Horn Book ages ago. The November/December issue has Richard Peck’s thoughtful, provocative Zena Sutherland Lecture, "And Still the Story." This part kills me (in the good way, the Southern way):

But revolutions always create new literatures–as well as fewer freedoms than before–and that one created the young adult novel. Robert Cormier wrote The Chocolate War, and I quit my job. But then, the only way you can write is by the light of the bridges burning behind you.

Unrelatedly:

(Via Maureen.)

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Reading Not Weeping

Some brief notes on recent good reading, in the interest of catch-up.

Wildgirlscover_300h_4I admit to the slightest trepidation going into Pat Murphy’s new middle grade novel The Wild Girls after the little dust-up (which Colleen sums up best here, if you missed it); I was afraid it would disappoint. I need not have worried. Heartwarming isn’t usually a positive descriptor–coming from me, anyway–but this novel is the good kind of heartwarming. It’s about two girls becoming friends and the identities they take on in the forest–Sarah aka Fox, Queen of the Foxes, and Joan aka Newt–and the ones they forge in the larger world. Over a summer together in 1972 California, the girls grapple with their respective family troubles (Fox’s mother abandoned her and her science fiction writer father several years ago; Joan’s mother and father are seemingly en route to divorce) and discover their creative writing voices. Murphy effortlessly conjures the period, including the changing roles of women in the household during this period and the scene in Berkeley when the girls travel to their writing classes. While there’s no shortage of conflict, it’s perhaps a bit light in terms of how easily certain things are resolved, and the essential goodness of the two girls–but that’s okay. It’s refreshing, actually, to see so little angst, and the young voices struck me as true. Murphy manages to capture the dynamics of real famililial upheaval and its impact on kids, without ever leaning on cliches. While this is a solidly realistic novel, there are flourishes and sidenotes that may appeal to genre readers as well–I particularly enjoyed the type of writing that Fox and Newt do together, the fantasy stories they base on their real lives, and the reaction they get from the adults around them as a result. And there’s a beautiful recurring metaphor involving Fox’s vanished mother having turned into a fox. A gentle, delightful novel. See also: Colleen’s more detailed take here.

The_wall_and_the_wing_2Laura Ruby’s The Wall and the Wingcould it be a standalone fantasy novel, that rarest of beasts? Well, it turns out no, there’s a sequel that came out last May (which sounds great, actually), but the key thing is that it can be read that way. This is a self-contained, quirky, charming story of a world where most people can fly (but not very well) and one girl, a forgotten orphan in a miserable orphanage (is there any other kind?), discovers she can turn invisible. There’s a heavy who can unzip his face, a boy with a mysterious past who can fly really well (sometimes), mobsters,  and a mad professor with a bazillion cats. You get the picture. The world is extremely well-developed and I loved the sense of fun. Check it out if you like light but not shallow fantasy. See also: The SBBT featured some very good interviews with Ruby.

OnekingdomMy favorite read of the month has to be Deborah Noyes’ One Kingdom: Our Lives With Animals: The Human-Animal Bond in Myth, History, Science and Story. It’s a mix of photos and creative nonfiction, the type of book that would be at home in that catch-all the sociology section but thankfully isn’t consigned to that purgatory. It’s for kids, but would definitely have cross-over adult appeal, and I’d even put it at the older age range for kids. The text is thoughtful and the prose finely tuned. The mix of myth with science and personal essay on the practically endless subject of the relationship between humans and animals is just right. This is really an example of my favorite type of nonfiction book, a sort of focused miscellany or catch-all meditation, and I hope she does another like it. See also: Cynthia Leitich Smith’s interview with Noyes.

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Hibernation as a Sane Option

The capacity for forgetting what the dark seasons of the year actually feel like is remarkable, isn’t it? I know what to expect–the time change comes, the world changes, and suddenly it’s dark at six o’clock. Can you believe it’s six?, you or I say, and, No, can you? No, I can’t.

It’s not this that’s the weird part, of course. The weird part is how the day actually shrinks. How dinner gets earlier, how you feel like it’s evening when a month ago it was late afternoon. I can understand the wicked air that comes with a sudden drop in barometric pressure, but not this seasonal dysphoria.

Why is it that I get more done with these short days? Maybe I should move to Alaska, but only for the winters.

I’d never go outside and instead write 800,000 word novels that could crush Grady Tripp without trying. That’s what I’d do in Alaska. (Shhh, Colleen, I know.)

Why, yes, I did just finish packeting for this month. I’m going to go sleep now, or possibly hibernate. It’s well after dark, after all.

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