Archive for February, 2010

John Irving's Fantastic Bookends

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

It took a little planning ahead — fast dinner, pumping milk, shoving baby Dash into his Daddy’s arms for the evening — but I made it to the John Irving talk yesterday at Willamette University.

And was I ever glad I made the effort. He was everything you could want in an author appearance: witty, charming, fabulously low-key, often brilliant, sometimes surprising, and always full of insight into his own work and the craft of novel writing.

He began by telling the story of his latest novel, one that he says has been in his mind for at least 20 years, Last Night in Twisted River. It’s his twelfth novel — a fugitive story about a son and his father, and like many of his books, things won’t end pretty here.

Some interesting tidbits from the evening:

  • A famed fan of 19th century novelists, Irving detests Ernest Hemingway’s style and wasn’t afraid to say how much he also hates the contemporary writers who try to emulate the pared-down author.
  • The inspiration for Irving’s books always begin at the end — with the very last sentence.
  • He spends about a year plotting his novels. Then, when he knows the story through and through, he writes like a demon. Then he rewrites.
  • Irving has little tolerance for writers who don’t love the re-write.
  • Irving writes by hand. He is often shocked at how awful his kids’ handwriting is.
  • He often inserts autobiographical elements into his books, but he would never want the past, nor the lives, that his characters have.
  • He gives long, beautifully crafted answers to the questions his interviewers pose. because of that, he can probably only answer three questions in an hour. But man, does he pack in the content!

Time to revisit Owen Meany. Thanks, Willamette, for the talented Mr. Irving to town!

Sussing Out the Competition

Friday, February 19th, 2010

Cue the dueling banjos! We’ve got another young columnist in town taking on the well-worn phrase and attitude that Salem, OR is really “So lame.”

It’s the Statesman-Journal’s Kelly Williams Brown — entertainment beat reporter, Ginger for the New Millennium, and all around sugar and spice and everything nice.

Kelly’s first column ran last weekend. She’s calling it “Not So Lame,” and it was all about the awkwardness of Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of… my husband and I spent Valentine’s Day with another man in bed with us, our now 8-week old baby Dash. Can I get an AWKWARD…

But back to Kelly. Can I just say that it is high time that the Statesman countered Salem Monthly’s culture column with one written by their own effervescent young writer-on-the-rise? And they even one-upped us by offering up a little tart who is about ten times as cute and vivacious as yours truly.

Grumble grumble.

Yes, I can’t say I’ve always liked Kelly. She is a reader of this blog and invited me to lunch during my first months in town. When I met her, she reminded me of the sparkly young twenty-something I once was while tromping the streets of our nation’s capital. She was loving life, the world was her oyster, and her joie de vivre was writ large on her unlined face. Also, she has impeccable fashion taste, one of those Somethings Seldom Seen in Salem.

Naturally, I hated her from the start.

Holding an attitude like that would make for an awesome columnist rivalry! Sadly, Kelly is one of the sweetest people in town — my lord, people she does stories on baby llamas! — and I am happy to call her my dear friend.

You could say she’s the special sauce the Statesman has been lacking. I wish her and her column many incarnations.

Don't miss Gina Ochsner at Salem Library

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

It’s not often that a local and nationally acclaimed literary writer takes a stage here in town, but that’s exactly what’s happening tonight at the Salem Public Library.

Gina Ochsner, mother of four, Keizer resident, and all-around writer on-the-rise will read there this evening at 7:00 p.m. from her debut novel The Russian Dreambook of Color and Flight.

The book is one of those amazing debuts that suffers from a bit of a tough sell. I dare you to tell your friends about this book by plot alone and watch as their eyes glaze over (I’ve done this myself)). The novel tells the story of a handful of residents of a dilapidated apartment building in post-Communist Russia, some of whom work at a local museum, which houses only replicas of historical artifacts (The Russian Dreambook is big on the absurd).

That’s a pretty pathetic plot compression I’ve just offered, so I implore you to check out this great review of it from The Guardian, which goes into greater details about the book’s gloriously heartbreaking characters, who are really the stars in this dream book.

I’ve read this one and can’t sing its praises enough. It’s gorgeous, haunting, poetic, hilarious. And if I can get my husband to watch my little dude, I’ll be there watching Ochsner tonight.


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