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Showing posts with label National Book Awards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label National Book Awards. Show all posts

Friday, November 21, 2014

More thoughts on the LeGuin NBA Speech, etc.

"Here, every story, in its own way
and from its own universe, told in its
own mode, explains that there is no
better spirit in all of American letters
than that of Ursula LeGuin." -Slate
ON THE LEGUIN NBA SPEECH
Especially for Midori Snyder Crankypants!

* CAPITALISM
It tends to be hard to accept people condemning capitalism roundly when capitalism has been so very good to them personally. There's a having-your-cool-cake-and-liberally-eating-it-too vibe that is difficult to ignore. How, exactly, do we critique capitalism without throwing the essential baby out with the dirty bathwater? Perhaps the speech will lead to a more particular examination of the state of publishing. Who are these people who treat books like soap? Are there houses that publish only crappy books? Are there no alternatives? Is every list with a Grover the Farting Kangaroo or Inside Celebrity X inhabited only by such books? What's the state of things at individual houses? What's the proportion of dross to gold? Is it really so much worse than in the past? I don't know, but I remember a course in which I read nineteenth-century bestsellers as I great eye-opener. I like Ursula LeGuin and respect her body of work, but that's still a stumbling block. We're writers; we should be able to do a better job of excising the gangrened flesh and leaving the body to survive.

* THE REALISTS
It's always worth saying that the only genre that matters is the one called good books. LeGuin stands up against the domination of "the Realists" in prizes and publications. It's a fine thing to remind us that what is important is not genre but making a strong work out of words, and though I tend not to set one group against another (and not to divide by genre), it's certainly true that what we call irrealism has been the stepchild in tatters to its so-called literary sibling, geared in prize bling. Although it is certainly true that the sf/f/h world has its own clubbiness and prizes...

* POWERS AND FREEDOM
The great powers of modern civilization--the power of the media, the power of big corporations, and so on--are always going to tilt in directions that distress us for the simple fact that they are the powers. Make it, "The Powers." They will always have to suffer correction. Always. This doesn't mean that we must entirely eradicate them. Yes, the big New York publishers have been purchased (almost all of them) and are now part of conglomerates. They suffer greater pressure to produce a larger profit margin, when really about a 3% margin is good for publishing. Yes, we live with that. But we have choices. With New York, we choose to have a certain kind of reach in terms of marketing. Of course, often that reach is not exerted on behalf of a book, so it's a bit of a crap shoot... but the publisher has name recognition and relationships with stores and libraries. We also have the choice (which some of us have taken) of moving from the Big 5 (formerly Big 6) to alternatives of some sort--I love the freedom I have had with Phoenicia (Montreal), Stanza (UK), and Mercer (US) to help make decisions and collaborate with an artist. (My problem is, of course, how to have the same sort of marketing a big house like Farrar, Straus can and sometimes does offer. I haven't worked the kinks out there. I'm still trying things.... The other thing I miss about FSG is Elaine Chubb, the world's most persnickety copy editor. But she retired. No one can replace her.) Others make other choices and go with micro-presses or self-publishing. All of that is, indeed, freedom. Like most freedoms, it comes at a price.

Small Beer Press
* WHAT GOLDEN AGE?
Yes, there's a mort of things worthy of criticism in the world of publishing. In Shakespeare's time, there were other problems with publishing (or with the schemes of sticky-fingered printers, as it was then.) Writers complained then, now, and every time in between. The arts are always in trouble, and great artists often go unrecognized while lesser lights are worshipped and rewarded. None of that is new. For the most part, we can only do what our times let us do, whether we live centuries ago in courtly circles and circulate work privately or later on reside precariously on Grub Street or write today on a computer and submit our work in a mere instant. But it's strange to think that our era is unusually bad overall because our era offers writers more options than ever. Whether we like them all is another thing, and certainly there's huge controversy over self-publishing, the proliferation of online 'zines and MFA programs, and much more. But there's life in ferment, and ferment is certainly what we have.

* THE END OF THINGS
In every century, there have been times when world's end seemed near. LeGuin looks at the future through a dystopian lens: "Hard times are coming, when we’ll be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies..." Oh, I'm as quick as anyone to let my imagination show me what shadows loom over us and have complete sympathy with such a remark. Solar flares! People on the other side of the world who want to chop off all of our heads! Putin with no shirt on horseback, aiming to be a centaur! Teens who can't put away their dratted iPhones! But these voices of people who "see alternatives" are already with us. We may choose to ignore them. Most of us may never be given a chance to read them. But there are plenty of voices that speak with truth and joy, that hold up what's lasting and see technology only as a useful tool. They are with us. Find them. I love Jeff Sypeck's suggestion in the comments (prior post)about what the powerful, lauded, rewarded Ursula LeGuin could do to help books:
She's right that "we need writers who know the difference between the production of a market commodity and the practice of an art." Such people and publishers exist, but you know who's uniquely suited to make them known to the world? Ursula Le Guin! One word from her in the press could sell 20,000 copies of Thaliad. She could start a Facebook page and devote it to nothing but endorsing, and encouraging discussion of, books from smaller presses, or linking to eloquent blogs, or maybe even putting in a good word for the cream of the self-published crop. She could even put conditions on interviewers: Sure, I'll answer a bunch of predictable, fawning questions from the Salon books editor, but only if we can talk about this great little novel I discovered, because not nearly enough people are reading it...
Sienna Latham, New Zealand grad student and Southwesterner
studying alchemy in early modern England and founder
of Hindsight, with cat and Glimmerglass.
What would the American scene look like if all famous-in-our-time writers took their power seriously and used it to support and reveal good but relatively invisible writers? Lovely little bubble of a dream, Jeff!

p. s. Ursula LeGuin is my mother's age--my mother the former librarian, the weaver, the gardener, the volunteer. I love seeing active older women who have something to say  and do. What a great example for those of us coming along in their wake...

SARATOGA

I had a jolly time at Northshire Bookstore in Saratoga yesterday evening and managed to thread the labyrinth of little snowy roads home by midnight. Thanks to the lovely people who turned out despite the cold, and who had wonderful questions... And thanks to Rachel Person, who organizes events for Northshire. I first met her at the NBA Awards when her husband, Steve Sheinkin, was on the finalist slate for the YPL (what a fun judging time I had that year--such a great panel of people who were thoughtful and of a similar cast of mind.)

NEXT UP

I'll be signing Glimmerglass at the Fenimore Art Museum on the 28th, along with 11 other writers. 11:00-2:00 p.m. I think they'll have some of my other in-print books, including Thaliad and A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage. More on that one later...

Friday, November 16, 2012

At the National Book Award frolics

Greek revival ceiling at Cipriani Wall Street.

Rebecca with Anne and Gary Schmidt.
Gary was the wonderful leader of our judging panel.

Bar, Wall Street Cipriani.


Judith Ortiz Cofer with Rachel and Steve Sheinkin,
Finalist in Young People's Literature for Bomb.
Our panel's star, Susan Cooper...
(Susan Cooper Cronym)

With my daughter Rebecca.

Table companions, poets Dana Levin and Patrick Rosal,
judges for the poetry award.

Author Sophia Quintero with Patrick Rostal.

Cipriani Wall Street.

Picked Sagittarius and Scorpio, as my birthday lands
on the cusp between them.

With Judith Ortiz Cofer. Devoured by judge-corsages.

Fellow YPL panelist Daniel Ehrenhaft, author and now head
of the Soho Teen imprint, along with his wife Jessica,
a vice president at Scholastic.
Rebecca Beatrice Miller in her new pixie cut, all curls gone!
Judges Susan Orlean and Judith Shulevitz in the background.

Table 55 assembling...

Table 55.


Judith Ortiz Cofer and Rebecca.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Veterans Day gallimaufry--

A late addition to the medley here: Critic D. G. Myers with a list of 25 historical novels, including Catherwood.

It's the Veterans Day holiday, and I'm remembering with thanks the generation of my father, Hubert Lafay Youmans, who left life as an impoverished sharecropper's boy at 17 in order to join the Army Air Corps and ended up flying tailgunner in a B-17 in World War II. Lucky for me that he survived and came home to ride the G. I. Bill through Emory, where he met my mother, and LSU. His brother Dafford (bit of Welsh naming?) also served in Europe.

Meanwhile my mother's brothers were sprinkled around the world during the war: Louis, Martin, Leonard, James, and Hugh Morris. The last of them died recently, tucked into eternity. I'm also recalling their mother, Lila Eugenia Arnold Morris. People in the little town of Collins, Georgia said that she prayed all five of them home, on her knees every night, talking (wrestling, pleading, arguing?) to God. Miss Lila was quite the matriarch in her town, mother of nine children, eight of whom survived to adulthood.

My youngest played for the village parade and wreath-laying yesterday... That's a lovely thing for our children to do.

Tomorrow I am off to New York City with Rebecca, pleased to be meeting my fellow NBA judges for lunch on Wednesday. Then: the banquet and awards. It should be a day of great interest! Today I am getting ready and trying to boot the cold far away from me. If I have time, I'll do some tweaking in The Book of the Red King, as I've promised to send it on to Clive so he can be mulling art.

Upcoming: Thaliad appears to be on schedule for the tail of November or nose of December. Forthcoming poems in Mezzo Cammin and Books & Culture. And after that: two novels, both a bit unusual.

NBA glam? Luisa Igloria posted this link on facebook...

Quote for the day: I worry about a culture that bit by bit trades off the challenging pleasures of art for the easy comforts of entertainment. --Dana Gioia

About that quote: I know quite well that inside the mass culture is a band of people dedicated to making art of beauty and power--artists who attempt to work free of the reductive trends, fashion, and demands of the marketplace. The question is what happens when those people become invisible and no longer infuse the culture with their life. What does it do to them; what does it do to our culture?

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Congratulations to the finalists--

Guest room decor, 2012

Much of my year was taken up with reading (and sometimes rereading) 316 books for the National Book Award in Young People's Literature, along with panelists Judith Ortiz Cofer, Susan Cooper, Daniel Ehrenhaft, and our fearless leader, Gary Schmidt. I am honored to have been asked to judge, and I enjoyed being part of a harmonious group. I am looking forward to meeting the others at lunch on November 14th and then attending the awards banquet, when the winner will be announced.

The five finalists were announced earlier this morning. I am glad and happy for them. And I wish for all of those nominated by their publishers much pleasure in words in the years to come.



The five finalists

Stacks. And stacks!

In alphabetical order by author:

William Alexander, Goblin Secrets
Carrie Arcos, Out of Reach
Patricia McCormick, Never Fall Down
Steve Scheinkin, Bomb
Eliot Schrefer, Endangered

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Tweetheads

NBA Young People’s Literature - Winners, Finalists, And Judges On Twitter If you are on twitter or follow it, this might be an interesting list to pursue--lots of people I did not know were on. And now, back to the big summer read...

And speaking of things discovered on Twitter, where, oh where is the angel with the flaming sword when you need him? First Billy Collins unbuttons Emily Dickinson and now, infinitely more bothersome, this. Outrage, as newspapers used to say when they meant rape. Austen? Just shatter a Grecian vase over my head, will you?

As long as we're in the realm of strange things learned on Twitter and the removal of undergarments, please note the fascinating discovery of a 15th-century bra! No doubt fashion historians are scribbling revisionary texts at this instant.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Ferry Day

I have updated my A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage page, including links to and quotes from new reviews. Hop here for more like this: It is a stunning book; both cruel and tender, dark and light, but always shot through and stitched with a powerful beauty.

Yesterday was a ferry-the-youngest-to-one-of-many-of-his-summer-camps days, and I am grateful that I did not plant my husband's big black shiny Tundra in a ditch. Only two bookish things happened all day: I stopped at Old Saratoga Books (which is not in Saratoga) and bought a book about Arthurian history and mystery, one about American folklore from colonial times onward, a collection of African praise-poems, a Winterson novel (never tried her), and another translation of the Metamorphoses of Ovid.

All of which was ridiculous because the NBA-YPL books in their little towers are shrilling, shrilling my name! I ended the day with frivolity (Mike came home from a weekend in Boston and brought very un-Cooperstonian presents) and duty (a couple hundred pages of one of the young adult novels.)

I am sure poet Ted Hughes would have liked a copy of (or perhaps owned) Leaf and Bone: Africa Praise poems, an anthology with commentary by Judith Gleason. Here's a sample:

BABOON (Sotho animal praise)

Handsome fellow of the precipice
My foot soles shine on the mountain.
Ox of a baboon, dies in the milkwood tree
Not of its favorite fruit, but of something rotten.
Son of liquid urine
Greatest medicine for children.
Baboon who huddles up when it rains
So that not a drop touches eyes or stomach.
Son of the black hands
What is the secret of your penis?
Handsome fellow, shiner on the mountain,
"So long as I'm here in the milkwood tree
And the lions come down from the mountain
And strangle me, let me tumble
So I fall on a bed of my favorite fruits
Me, handsome fellow of the sheer precipice."

According to the notes, gorilla pee is thought to be good for children, and the gorilla penis is the source of mighty man meds, for guys only. I'm looking forward to reading more in this little book.

The doorbell... Hang on.

A frighteningly large box of books just landed on my porch bench. Surprised the thing didn't collapse under the weight. I certainly did.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Un-post. Really.

Clive Hicks-Jenkins, for Thaliad
I am ignoring posts in favor of reading NBA-Young People's Lit books. The mountain to be read and judged is beginning to make me feel just a tad guilty. And alas, I may not talk about what I am reading. Although I can say that the heap of books is starting to be a bit daunting!  So: back tomorrow. 

Here's a Clive Hicks-Jenkins vignette (for what will be the rear of the jacket/cover of the upcoming Thaliad (Montreal, CA: Phoenicia Publishing) to keep you until then.) I like those strangely lit windows... It looks an awful lot like Christ Church Cooperstown, which was in my head when I wrote one the scenes in the poem. Epics need supernatural presences, and mine has them, so I am glad to see that uncanny glass. (Scroll down the page to see more jacket/cover images.)

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Getting my Judge-hat ready--

LITTLE BOXES SINGING MY NAME
Can you imagine how many little boxes of books will be chattering and clamoring at my front door, trying to break in? Our first conference call is at the start of May...

from Publishers Weekly Daily:  NBA Entry Process Now Open to Publishers The National Book Foundation has issued entry forms and guidelines for the 2012 National Book Awards. The organization has also released the names of the 20 judges who will be choosing the award winners of the four prizes: fiction, nonfiction, poetry and young people's literature.

On the fiction panel, the judges are: Stacey D'Erasmo, Kent Haruf, Dinaw Mengestu, Lorrie Moore and Janet Peer. The nonfiction panel judges are: Brad Gooch, Linda Gordon, Woody Holton, Susan Orlean, Judith Shulevitz. Judging poetry this year are: Laura Kasischke, Dana Levin, Maurice Manning, Patrick Rosal and Tracy K. Smith. And the judges for young people's literature are: Judith Ortiz Cofer, Susan Cooper, Daniel Ehrenhaft, Gary D. Schmidt and Marly Youmans

Publishers can contact Amy Gall (agall@nationalbook.org) for award guidelines and, for bios of the judges, users can go to www.nationalbook.org.

A DEATH AT THE WHITE CAMELLIA ORPHANAGE
Read chapter one at Scribd
See the book page
See the new facebook page
Goodreads giveaway, April 15-May 15: 24 copies - please sign up!
Amazon hardcover and ebook
Indie bookstore search
Buy direct from Mercer

Also--The Throne of Psyche discount:
In celebration of the new book and National Poetry Month,
Mercer is offering The Throne of Psyche

 at 20% off plus free shipping  Discount code: POETRY