This month I’ve rounded up links to books and an article for your reading pleasure, whether you’re looking to write more or simply settle in with a good story.
The Books
A while back, I interviewed Julia Stoops about her debut novel, Parts Per Million (Forest Avenue Press). At the same time, I wrote a review of her book. As in all things writing, publication can move slowly, whether you’re crafting your first novel, searching for a home for an essay, or submitting reviews.
I’m grateful to the editors at Necessary Fiction for posting my review of Stoops’ book, in part because it’s nice to get your work out there but also because, while this book was published back in April 2018, the story remains relevant today.
- Take a look at the review on Necessary Fiction.
- Go back to the Q&A with Julia Stoops here.
- Browse over to Omnimundi.org for more on the book’s artwork and artist Gabriel Liston.
“…every novel carries significance for readers in either speaking to our past understanding or forcing us to consider our current state of mind.”
A more recent discovery in books is Beth Kephart‘s new work, Strike the Empty: Notes for Readers, Writers, and Teachers of Memoir. I’m barely into this one, but already I can tell I’ll be marking it up, tabbing pages, and referring back to it time and again. Kephart writes on the importance of story, on “refuge in true stories,” shares essays by authors of your favorite memoirs and calls to action for those of us doing our best to bring our own true stories to light.
“Establish agency, generate urgency, prize vulnerability, remain raw. Know the question. Don’t force the answer. . . . strike the empty–that meaningless phrase, that excessive detail, that tired trope, that obvious epiphany, that unmurdered little darling.“
Read more about Kephart’s book on her website or purchase your own copy from your favorite bookstore.
The Article
Speaking of writing memoir and writing tight, I also re-read an essay by Barbara Hurd that I never tire of, “The Mind in Winter.”
“I keep my hat pulled low and my imagination on alert for what I’ll likely never hear again nor ever forget: mewing in mid-winter, deep in the den before there was any sign of life on the surface, any hint of thaw or—back on topic now—any start of a next sentence or line of a poem. What would it take, in other words, to dwell for a while in winter’s stillness and trust that down there, below the sometimes blank surfaces of our stymied minds, an idea or story could be stirring?”
Feeling stuck in any way? Go to Hurd’s essay, bookmark it. Winter, she says, can be “refuge, snow as insulation, silence as opportunity.”
What are you reading these days?
Time was limited. People like Ralph, the men, and women who had lived during WWII, would soon be gone. I didn’t want their stories to die with them. Sites of remembrance, including concentration camps, are part of their stories, part of history not to be ignored or forgotten. Such places act as persuasive and effective teachers. Are people still willing to learn?
I’m constantly asked for resources on how people can move forward learning about Indigenous culture, and I’m often repeating the same thing: read books. . . . Indigenous peoples cannot do the work for you. You must dig in and learn yourself, and the best way to do that is lean into our cultures. Learn about us. Do your research, and then we can have a conversation that isn’t a one-sided history or cultural lesson.
Writers work successfully in so many different ways, I never assume that what works for me is best for someone else. But if a common denominator exists among us, it might be attitude: the enterprise of writing a book has to feel like walking into a cathedral. It demands humility. The body of all written words already in print is vaulted and vast. You think you have something new to add to that? If so, it can only come from a position of respect: for the form, the process, and eventually for a reader’s valuable attention.
Details play a significant role in our writing, whether we write poems, essays or novels. Details build story, deepen story, and provide more ways for readers to connect with story.
…with space, an invitation, and a gentle push from another writer facing similar challenges, we are more likely to show up at the table and set pen to paper. We are more likely to encourage the writer across from us and–together–create more art.