TBR: Our Sister Who Will Not Die: Stories by Rebecca Bernard

TBR [to be read] is a semi-regular, invitation-only interview series with authors of newly released/forthcoming, interesting books who will tell us about their new work as well as offer tips on writing, stories about the publishing biz, and from time to time, a recipe.

 

Give us your elevator pitch: what’s your book about in 2-3 sentences?

 

The stories in Our Sister Who Will Not Die explore brutal aspects of human behavior and the complex, deeply human individuals beneath these acts. Patricide, enabling addiction, domestic violence, the cruelty of which we’re capable and the mistakes we make, these are stories about finding empathy for even our darkest, most troubling moments as people.

 

 

Which story did you most enjoy writing? Why? And which story gave you the most trouble, and why?

 

“The Pleasures of Television” was probably my favorite story to write, largely because I was wrapped up in Sandy’s voice. I think embodying a voicey first person narrator, letting the character unspool themselves is some of the most rewarding (and pleasurable!) writing. Plus, Sandy and Beau’s game of “Watching TV” allowed for more wordplay than my stories typically offer, and who doesn’t love a good pun. “Our Sister Who Will Not Die” was perhaps the trickiest to write in part because of its large cast, but also the play-like monologues. It’s a story that didn’t feel wholly right until my final read-through of the manuscript post copy-edits.

 

Tell us a bit about the highs and lows of your book’s road to publication.

 

These stories were drafted over the course of two years of workshop, and my original hope was to wait for that elusive two-book deal. I had an early agent who gave me faith in the stories, but eventually we decided to part ways, largely due to a novel that was giving me a lot of pain. I decided at some point, well, if the two-book deal isn’t going to happen, I’ll submit to some contests because why not. And then, of course, I ended up winning The Journal’s Non/Fiction prize, thanks to their kind staff and Nick White. I was surprised because it was the first contest I heard back from, and because these stories weren’t easy to place. A number of them were those stories that get multiple personal rejections from great journals but just never find a home. But my hope is that collectively they form a whole stronger or more palatable than their parts.

 

What’s your favorite piece of writing advice?

 

I believe that sheer endurance, perseverance through rejection is likely the best advice or most necessary. To somehow maintain hope and just keep writing—but in terms of concrete advice, I’ve been thinking a lot about what one of my professors said during my defense, Miroslav Penkov, a brilliant writer and teacher. He said, a novel must have memorable scenes. Which probably seems obvious but has been so helpful to me. I tend to write in the page a day, plug away style, and this helps give me focus. What are the scenes I’m writing toward? What are these stand out moments going to be? What do I want readers to remember?

 

My favorite writing advice is “write until something surprises you.” What surprised you in the writing of this book?

 

To be honest, what might be most surprising to me was getting my blurbs and realizing how dark these stories appeared to others. Or perhaps, the cohesive story the blurbs painted. I feel such abiding love for my characters, even in their moments of intense failure and frailty, though I also recognize not everyone might feel that way. I didn’t set out to write dark stories, I set out to understand how/why people would do things that seemed inexplicable to me, and through that it meant facing those worst parts of ourselves.

 

How did you find the title of your book?

 

My original title as I was drafting the stories was “Bad Things to Such Good People” which is a song title by the band Pedro the Lion, something I listened to in my early 20s.  I liked this idea of emphasizing these people as good, though I guess there’s the potential to misread it as irony. I was teaching at a men’s prison, and in part that influenced the stories, wanting to compel people to see other humans as having worth beyond their worst actions. The press thought “Our Sister Who Will Not Die” was a much better title, and my agent agreed, and I believe they were correct.

 

Inquiring foodies and hungry book clubs want to know: Any food/s associated with your book? (Any recipes I might share?)

 

Maxine’s chicken involtini comes to mind first, though a disclaimer I have never made this myself. I worked at an awesome Italian restaurant during college which is where the inspiration for the dish came from in the story. Here’s a recipe that looks good!

 

*****

 

READ MORE ABOUT THIS AUTHOR: www.rebeccaibernard.com

 

ORDER THIS BOOK FOR YOUR OWN TBR STACK: https://ohiostatepress.org/books/titles/9780814258408.html

 

READ A STORY FROM THIS BOOK, “First Date”: https://witness.blackmountaininstitute.org/issues/vol-xxxi-2-summer-2018/first-date/

 

 

 

10 Living Writers I Admire Yet Am Afraid to Meet & Why

(in no particular order)

 

1.     Lionel Shriver*: too relentless

2.     Margaret Atwood: too angsty about not yet winning the Nobel she deserves

3.     Donna Tartt: too happy living a life without social media

4.     Zadie Smith: too talented

5.     Roxane Gay: too worried I’m accidentally friends with her nemesis

6.     Erica Jong: too sexy

7.     Jay McInerney: too tired of talking about my beloved second person POV

8.     Jon Krakauer: too eager to investigate

9.     Tara Westover: too educated

10.  Colson Whitehead: too many Pulitzers

*Wearing that sombrero didn't help....

 NOTE: I'm taking a summer break from writer interviews and am just going to have FUN with this blog for a month or so.

TBR: crossing over by Kim Shegog

TBR [to be read] is a semi-regular, invitation-only interview series with authors of newly released/forthcoming, interesting books who will tell us about their new work as well as offer tips on writing, stories about the publishing biz, and from time to time, a recipe.

 

 

Give us your elevator pitch: what’s your book about in 2-3 sentences?

 

The stories in this collection give voice to the history and soul of a rural collective.

These people want to belong—to themselves, their families, their communities, and their God. From the dizzying Thanksgiving table to the sobering graveside service, these stories exist in their acts of agency and grace.

 

Which character did you most enjoy creating? Why? And, which character gave you the most trouble, and why?

 

“Breath to Bones,” the novella in the collection, was my favorite to write but also the toughest. There were only a few characters, but I wanted to get them right—their voices, motivations, and interactions. They’re confronting a tragedy, individually and collectively, and bringing all of their history on the page was exciting and terrible at the same time. These are generations of people born in the same place and roughly the same economic circumstances, so while they’re alike in many ways, their personalities and lived experiences vary a great deal. It was a high-wire act, of sorts, to maintain a distinct yet similar voice in each character.

 

Tell us a bit about the highs and lows of your book’s road to publication.

 

Many of the stories began in some form during my time in the Converse University MFA program. All of this stories experienced rejection on some level. Finally, one story was published, “Goodbye Alice” in Appalachian Review, then another, then I won a writing prize, and so on. This process took years. Years of “Thank you, but…” and “You have not been selected” (all the while continuing to write because that’s what we do, right?) until one day much better news was delivered to the inbox. I was thrilled beyond measure when this collection was selected as a co-winner to the Converse MFA Alumni Book Award.

 

What’s your favorite piece of writing advice?

 

In light of my comments about the book’s road to publication, Marianne Moore’s words come to mind: “Humility, Concentration, and Gusto”

 

My favorite writing advice is “write until something surprises you.” What surprised you in the writing of this book?

The sheer amount of will power writing takes amazes me every time. Also, I did a great deal of research for several of these stories (I listened to many radio ads from the 1940s and made many visits to cemeteries, which I find fascinating and always surprising).

 

Who is your ideal reader?

 

My ideal reader is one who knows how much I appreciate and respect their time. I have faith in my characters and believe their stories need to be told, and I have done my best to abide by Raymond Carver’s motto: “Get in, get out. Don’t linger. Go on.”

 

Inquiring foodies and hungry book clubs want to know: Any food/s associated with your book? (Any recipes I might share?)

 

Yes! The first story in the collection is set during a southern Thanksgiving—so biscuits, dressing (similar to stuffing), fried apples, and more. In fact, I think every story mentions some type of food or candy.

 

Buttermilk Coconut Pie

 

1 stick oleo (I use unsalted butter)

5 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

¾ c. buttermilk

2 cups white sugar

2 cups coconut flakes

 

Melt oleo and add buttermilk. Beat eggs and add sugar. Pour together and then add vanilla and coconut and mix well. Place mixture in two unbaked pie shells. Bake in preheated oven at 350° F for 45 minutes.

~~Courtesy of Great Aunt Nancy

 

 

*****

 

READ MORE ABOUT THIS AUTHOR: https://www.kimshegog.com/

 

ORDER THIS BOOK FOR YOUR OWN TBR STACK: https://libraries.clemson.edu/press/

 

 

 

 

Favorite Books Bookshelf, July 31, 2018

I recently was forced to move masses of books off and then later back onto their shelves for a carpet cleaning project, and it occurred to me that it might be fun for me to create a record of the books that are on my hallowed FAVORITE BOOKS BOOKSHELF at this particular moment in time. The shelf is pretty packed, so the rule is that I can’t really add a book without subtracting one. The other rule is that I have to remind myself that some of these books may not be the “best” book ever, but that it’s on this shelf because it hit me at the exact right time, or the reading experience was extraordinary in some memorable way that enhanced the book, or, well, because I don’t really care that this isn’t the “best” book ever. Also, for sure, some actually ARE the “best” ever. Usually, I have a sort of feeling as I’m reading and finishing. If I have to ask myself if a book should go on this shelf, I know it shouldn’t.

A few words to remind everyone that I’ve been around about as long as a sequoia, and I’m sure this list reflects to some extent a reader coming of age during a certain time/place. So be it. That is who I am. And this is my secret place where I separate the art from the artist and try not to worry about writers who might be dicks in real life. Additionally, I try not to put books by friends in this area, because those books get their own special shelves. And I (mostly) resist including children’s books.

I’ll also say that I have shelves of other books that I absolutely love! But usually there’s a little something extra that makes me send a book to this shelf. I’m really loathe to remove (or even reread) books that have been here for a long, long, long time…so if you’re going to question me in a deep way about why a book is here, it’s quite possible that I may not be able to answer to your satisfaction or even coherently. Suffice to say that typing each of these titles, touching each of these covers as I unshelved and reshelved did so much more than spark joy, as Marie Kondo suggests: Each book reminded me of who I was, who I am, and how I got to here.

Oh, and for those of you worried that you’re not finding The Great Gatsby here--!!—it, and The Catcher in the Rye, are in with the writing books, due to their outsize influence on me and my writing life.

Presented alphabetically here, but PLEASE don’t think I have them alphabetized on the shelf? What, you think I’m crazy?!? (Also, forgive me for being too lazy to italicize titles.)

Abbott, Lee K.: Love Is the Crooked Thing

Ansay, A. Manette: Vinegar Hill

Austen, Jane: Pride & Prejudice

Baker, Nicholson: The Mezzanine

Black, Robin: If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This

Bodsworth, Fred: Last of the Curlews

Boswell, Tom: Why Time Begins on Opening Day

Bronson, Po: Bombardiers

Campbell, Bonnie Jo: Mother, Tell Your Daughters

Canin, Ethan: The Palace Thief

Capote, Truman: Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Cather, Willa: My Antonia

Conrad, Joseph: Heart of Darkness

Didion, Joan: Play It as It Lays

Doerr, Harriet: Stones for Ibarra

Downham, Jenny: Before I Die

Eliot, T.S.: Collected Poems

Ellis, Bret Easton: Less Than Zero

Eugenides, Jeffrey: The Virgin Suicides

Ferris, Joshua: Then We Came to the End

Fitzgerald, F. Scott: The Pat Hobby Stories

Ford, Richard: Independence Day

Frazier, Ian: The Great Plains

Fried, Seth: “Frost Mountain Picnic Massacre,” One Story magazine

Gilchrist, Ellen: Victory Over Japan

Hamper, Ben: Rivethead

Hemingway, Ernest: A Moveable Feast

Hemingway, Ernest: In Our Time

Hemingway, Ernest: The Sun Also Rises

Hemingway, Ernest: Winner Take Nothing

Hempel, Amy: Reasons to Live

Ishiguro, Kazuo: The Remains of the Day

Jong, Erica: Fear of Flying

Krakauer, Jon: Into Thin Air

LaChapelle, Mary: House of Heroes

LeCarre, John: The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

Lee, Harper: To Kill a Mockingbird

Lowell, Susan: Ganado Red

MacLean, Norma: A River Runs through It

McCarthy, Cormac: All the Pretty Horses

McEwan, Ian: Atonement

McInerney, Jay: Bright Lights, Big City

McKinght, Reginald: The Kind of Light That Shines on Texas

Melville, Herman: Moby-Dick

Minot, Susan: Monkeys

O’Connor, Flannery: The Complete Stories

Plimpton, George: Open Net

Porter, Katherine Anne: Pale Horse, Pale Rider

Richard, Mark: The Ice at the Bottom of the World

Salinger, J.D.: Nine Stories

Shipstead, Maggie: “Astonish Me,” One Story magazine

Shriver, Lionel: We Need to Talk about Kevin

Simpson, Eileen: Poets in their Youth

Smith, Patti: Just Kids

Stafford, Jean: The Mountain Lion

Strand, Mark: The Continuous Life

Swarthout, Glendon: The Homesman

Tolstoy, Leo: Anna Karenina

Townsend, Sue: The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole

Townsend, Sue: The Secret Life of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 ¾

Updike, John: Pigeon Feathers

Wakefield, Dan: New York in the 50s

White, E.B.: Stuart Little

Whitman, Walt: Leaves of Grass

Wolfe, Tom: The Bonfire of the Vanities

Woodrell, Daniel: Winter’s Bone

Yates, Richard: Eleven Kinds of Loneliness

Lionel Shriver's New Novel, Big Brother

This is not the kind of book I will be running around saying, “Read this, read this,” though I’m not sure why, given that I read the nearly-400 page book in less than 24 hours.  As usual, Shriver pushes into territory that many people would rather not examine: here, it’s morbid obesity, as Pandora abruptly discovers that her beloved and admired older brother has ballooned in weight, up to 368 pounds.  To save him, she puts her marriage at risk by moving in with her brother, determined to spend the year coaching/nagging/inspiring him down to his youthful 163 pounds.  (Shriver has noted in interviews that her beloved, older brother died at age 55 and was obese.)

A few observations:

The beginning was a little slow.

Later I learned that Shriver has a brother who lives in Iowa and she visits often, but the Iowa setting did not ring true to me (though it was an inspired thematic choice)—despite the allusions to Hy-Vee, Iowa’s favorite grocery store, and a reference to The Mill in Iowa City.

Since there’s not a whole lot of narrative drive watching a character lose weight, it was a very talky book, with a lot of summary of time passing. 

Since it was a talky book, some of the talking came off as pushing the author’s thematic points a bit hard (though, honestly, because Shriver is so smart and relentless, I never mind this aspect of her work).

Reading about people on an extreme diet made me hungry, and I may have snacked more than I might have.  (Since the book is about our relationship with food, this may not be a bad thing.)

So, all that…AND YET:

The ending of the book was so incredible and startling that I forgive absolutely everything.

AFTER you read the book, read this interview with Lionel Shriver, where she talks a bit about the process of writing that ending.  And maybe I am saying, “Read this book,” if only because I desperately want to talk to someone about it! 

New York Trip, 2: The Bronx Is Up, and the Battery Down

[If you missed the first part of my trip to New York and seeing GATZ, you can catch up here.]

The next day, I used my above-14^th-Street exemption to take the subway to the Upper East Side to meet up with a friend for a lovely breakfast of eggs Benedict and another excellent cappuccino at Sant Ambroeus.

Then I went to the Whitney Biennial, a collection of contemporary art, selected to mirror the pulse of “right now in the art scene,” so along with paintings and sculpture, there were installations, films, performance, artists in residence inside the museum, and more.  I lucked into a great, hour-long tour that offered context and insight into the work on display and the Biennial as a whole.  There was much to ponder…and while I do love contemporary art and the way it challenges and pushes at boundaries, for me, there was a noticeable difference between reading about all these works and hearing how the artist was trying to do XYZ and what the process was, versus heading up to the top floor, where a few large pieces from the permanent collection were displayed in small galleries. There, simply looking at something and feeling, were all I needed:  I didn’t need to know how or why or what it meant…it was just an object that was stunning, exactly as is, even when I knew nothing about it.

Insanely, I decided to take the subway down to 14^th Street and then walk down Broadway to the hotel at Battery Park, roughly 4 miles.  This was insane because Broadway is a crowded street and because I am easily distracted:  within two blocks, I was wandering through the Strand Bookstore, where I picked up some Ftizgerald books to commemorate our trip and a SIGNED copy of Lionel Shriver’s Game Control.  I was also gratified to see a British paperback of Pears on a Willow Tree on the shelves.  After I tore myself away, I proceeded on with purpose until I saw a woman carrying a Ferrara plastic bag and insanely asked her for directions so I could get some of the best cannoli in the world.  This involved going backwards—and making the wrong choice of which way to turn at every point (though while I was lost, I came across a park in Chinatown where old men were jamming with interesting Chinese instruments).  Insanely, I decided that there was no way I was going back without those cannoli, so I retraced my steps yet again, and finally, finally found Ferrara (at Grand and Mulberry, FYI) and bought cannoli and cookies.  On and on—Broadway is a loooong street—and I marched down the Canyon of Heroes, where the famous ticker tape parades are still held (clearly because it’s so windy and great for floating ticker tape!).  Each parade is marked by a metal plaque in the sidewalk, all the way back to the very first parade for the dedication of the Statue of Liberty, back in 1886.  Whew…back to the hotel to SIT DOWN and take my shoes OFF.

Meanwhile…Steve was wandering around the Financial District, mapless, looking for the Titanic exhibit at the South Street Seaport.  After finding that, he walked across the Brooklyn Bridge—another crowded route; how many people does one’s eyes pass over on any given day in New York?—and ended up on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, admiring the view, until he realized he didn’t know how to get off the Promenade.  Cleverly, he followed a mom with a stroller and escaped…ending up at The River Café, for a martini and tuna tartare.  Whew…close call!

That night, we exchanged the stories of our adventures over an AMAZING meal at Bouley in Tribeca, a fancy, destination restaurant worth the $$ in terms of food, setting, and service.  I did take a copy of the menu, so I could write out exactly what we ate, but I think you’d all hate us, so suffice it to say that this was one of the best restaurant experiences of my life…everything was inventive and impeccable in taste and presentation.  (Okay, my first course was “fresh Malibu sea urchin terrine with Russian golden osetra caviar.”)  Dinner was like being a judge in a final round of Top Chef!  Plus, there was a bread cart, with a selection of 7 artisan breads (I took currant & anise; Steve went for garlic).  Interestingly, we both had a lot of strange dreams that night, which I’ll blame on the sea urchin.  Just a quick sense of what makes this place special:  as you walk in, you’re greeted by the aroma of apples…the entryway walls are lined with them, and they perfume the air, promising magic ahead.

Gotta work off those sea urchin calories, so we took a walking tour of historical New York, through Big Onion Walking Tours, which hires grad students as guides.  Our guide was interested in architecture, so we got some interesting tidbits about how Doric vs. Ionic columns in the impressive financial district buildings reflected the values of the culture at the time.  It was a fascinating tour, ranging from the Native Americans to the Dutch settlers to the robber barons to a brief encounter with Occupy Wall Street protesters. 

We wound our way up to Soho and ate at one of our favorite pizza restaurants, Lombardi’s.  It’s a bit touristy now (thanks a lot, Food Channel!), but the clam pizza is still stellar.  And while waiting outside, we enjoyed a conversation with an older man who lived in the neighborhood for 38 years (in a rent-controlled apartment, of course, $229/month!--but tiny, he said, like a cubicle) who told us about an old girlfriend named Violet Gleason who drank Pink Squirrels.

After poking around some boutiques and indulging in a fantasy in which I somehow ended up living in a fabulous Soho apartment, we went to the Flatiron District (oops—sorry, below-14^th Street rule that went right out the window!) and headed to the Flatiron Lounge as it was opening…a lovely time for more elegant craft cocktails, made and served with care.  My favorite was a milky punch made with chai-infused bourbon.  (Please…these drinks were small!)

We meandered through the Village and then returned to the hotel and sat outside in Battery Park, admiring the water, watching a green light off in the distance, hoping the men with the fishing poles would catch something.

Saturday, the last day:  nothing better than riding a train stuffed with deli food, so we went to Katz’s Deli on the Lower East Side.  Pastrami!  Corned beef!  Pickles!  Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda!  Oh, and, um, also a hot dog!  And what I’ll call a celebrity sighting:  I was staring at the photos on the wall of various people posing over the years with one man…who then emerged from the kitchen.  “Mr. Katz”!!  He languidly stood at the counter, surveying his empire of cured meats and the tourists and New Yorkers gobbling them up.  No one knew who he was or noticed him…so I had to jump up and say hello, thanking him for keeping his restaurant so perfect over all these years.  I mentioned that I had been eating here way back in 19--, well, let’s just say way back when, and that everything was still the same as it ever was. 

We wandered around the Lower East Side and stopped at the bookstore/gift shop of the Tenement Museum:  I bought a copy of Rats by Robert Sullivan, a nonfiction book about—you guessed it—rats in New York and what can be learned about the city by studying them.  (I started reading it on the train—fascinatingly creepy!)

And a second celebrity sighting in the train station:  Hoda Kotb, from The Today Show.  I don’t watch The Today Show unless I’m in a hotel room, and I enjoy Hoda and Kathie Lee in a guilty pleasure way, imagining Hoda must have the patience of Job to put up with that irritating Kathie Lee.  Anyway, she was gorgeous even without make-up and animated without being on camera; she was wearing exercise clothes and looked impeccable nevertheless.  She was seeing off family, it seemed—and I didn’t really have anything to say to her—so I merely watched, admiring her perfect legs.  At this point, I was a New Yorker after all, too cool to be overly impressed by something like a celebrity in Penn Station.

And then this little piggy cried wee-wee-wee all the way home…thankful to have Katz’s leftovers for dinner.

Residency: Day I-Have-No-Idea

Yesterday was dubbed The Day of Me.  I was the one who dubbed it this, of course, because in a scheduling glitch, I gave my craft lecture in the morning and then gave my reading at night. So, a long, somewhat nerve-wracking day…but as far as a Day of Me goes, I couldn’t ask for anything better.

My craft lecture was about creating characters who are alive, and Rick Mulkey, our fearless Converse leader, got to offer his rendition of the famous “It’s Alive!” scene from the 1931 movie, Frankenstein, and I got to read passages from some of my favorite fiction:  Moby-Dick, The Catcher in the Rye, We Need to Talk About Kevin, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” and (of course) The Great Gatsby.

I’m always nervous to read brand-new work, but my rant-ish story about female aging went well and was beautifully enhanced by my reading partner, visiting guest Keith Lee Morris, who read from his new collection of stories Call It What You Want a hilarious story about male midlife crisis.  The unplanned she said-he said effect was perfect!

And then the poker game.

I sat in just to show a woman could sit in on a poker game, the only one brave (or stupid) enough to do so…and immediately won two very large hands.  (Might I add that I was playing with men who brought their own cards and chips, who spoke a language I didn’t understand (high-low stud, iron cross, guts poker), and even one who was a professional ball player, savvy from years of card games on team buses and locker rooms.)  I quit while I was ahead—entrusting my chips to a trustworthy student, who managed not to lose the entire pot over the next several hours, which is surely more than I would have accomplished had I stayed in the game.

And, to cap the Day of Me, the Stanford-OK game was a thriller.  I was rooting for Stanford, but alas…the game spilled beyond midnight, beyond the Day of Me, and consequently, Stanford lost.  Such is my power on the Day of Me….

John Waters Loves Lionel Shriver, Too!

We saw John Waters perform his one-man Christmas monologue on Sunday night, and he was fabulous and funny.  Famous for, well, I’m not sure how to describe him if you don’t know the wide and vast body of his work, but he’s a Baltimore legend, an actor/writer/filmmaker (you’ve probably heard of Hairspray).  The man is fearless and will say anything, and the range of cultural references in his talk was breath-taking, ranging from Warhol to obscure gay porn film titles to Ivy Compton-Burnett to Justin Bieber.   He’s definitely someone I could listen to for hours, soaking in the stories and his intellect (there’s no other way to say it; he simply has an original and fascinating  mind).  A secret fantasy of mine is to somehow get invited to his famous Christmas party in Baltimore, or, since that’s a bit unrealistic, to run into him some day in Baltimore.

I bought a copy of his most recent book, Role Models, about the various people who inspired him (again, a very wide and eclectic range), and while I haven’t read all of it yet, of course I jumped to the chapter called “Bookworm,” in which he narrows down his collection of 8,425 books to select “John Waters’s Five Books You Should Read to Live a Happy Life If Something Is Basically the Matter with You.”

He had me at this paragraph:

“You should never read for ‘enjoyment.’ Read to make yourself smarter!  Less judgmental.  More apt to understand your friends’s insane behavior, or better yet, your own.  Pick ‘hard books.’  Once you have to concentrate on while reading.  And for God’s sake, don’t let me ever hear you say, ‘I can’t read fiction.  I only have time for the truth.’ Fiction is the truth, fool!  Ever hear of ‘literature’? That means fiction, too, stupid.”

And then he really, really, REALLY had me when one of his five books—out of 8,425, remember—was Lionel Shriver’s We Need to Talk About Kevin.  !!!  He writes, “Here’s a page-turner from the Devil’s Reading List about a child all parents pray they never have….We Need to Talk About Kevin could bring any parent sobbing to his (or her) knees, yet somehow this book is easy to like.”

Yes, yes, yes, and YES!  Now I know what John and I can chat about when I’m sipping eggnog at his art-filled house in Baltimore.

(He’s wrapping up his tour tonight in Baltimore at the Lyric…worth whatever you might have to pay for tix!)