Youmans (pronounced like 'yeoman' with an 's' added)
is the best-kept secret among contemporary American writers.
--John Wilson, editor, Books and Culture

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

The Midnight Crier (at 2:00 a.m.): Marly at Got Books? Let's Read!

My first appearance for Ingledove is at Got Books? Let's Read!, an annual conference sponsored by Hodge-Podge Books of Lark St., Albany. Hodge-Podge being tiny and adorable, the events take place at the Desmond Hotel. I used to walk by the store when I pushed my bambinos in a stroller--something that I did every blessed day, because we lived in a likewise tiny and adorable one-bedroom box of claustrophobia--just around the corner from Lark, on Willett St. However, Hodge-Podge was above ground, and it had a cat.

On the Hodge-Podge site, I am "Narly": Gnarly Youmans, the crumpled-up Georgia sharecropper, I imagine. My own grandpa. This year's conference will be Friday and Saturday, April 28-29, though I plan to go up early for general carousing, along with my plow and my mule.

Frank Hodge has grand taste in books and says: "She will be here with her second [young adult] book which I found mesmerizing from line one to the end, INGLEDOVE. And I am not a fantasy reader-lover." I'll have to take him one of my earlier books, so he can see my mind in another incarnation.

3 comments:

  1. I want to hear more about the share cropping Gnarly Youmans. He sounds interesting.

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  2. Who was that preacher in one of your books? Maybe in The Wolf Pit. He as an itinerant minister and talked right to me.

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  3. anonymous: He might be a figment. And if not, I would be using up my childhood storehouse.

    midnight reader: Had to go look up his name. I forget them when they're done. Coggins the circuit rider. I went to school with "Cogginses" in Cullowhee--that's the "valley of lilies" in Cherokee. Those would be the ones called "naked ladies." The valley of naked ladies...

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Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.