Give the Gift of Story
Give the Gift of Story!
“You just can’t help
but feel better about life
when you read it . . . ”
Emily Quinn, A Quintillion Words
“Two Over Easy All Day Long is a story of finding meaning in the little things. It’s a story of responsibility, redemption, and resilience. Of friendship and hope. In fact, there is so much packed into this story that it’s pretty hard to define in a single sentence, and for that reason, I fell in love with it. These characters are so full of life and personality that you’ll find it hard not to consider them friends afterwards . . . . I found myself laughing one minute and tearing up the next. A really powerful journey of growth and acceptance, with a few laughs thrown in. It really is a hidden gem!”
Find the full A Quintillion Words review here.
Maybe you’ve already been inspired to Give the Gift of Story. Maybe you’ve already bought a book to give to someone you love. If so, why not buy another, or two more, or ten? Why not make it a baker's dozen?
End of year is a particularly critical time for authors, as annual sales data influence media, contest judges, and other people and organizations who can help spread the word about a good book. So if you’re considering giving a book, might I gently suggest that you do it today? After all . . .
The long dark days of winter
are just begging for a good book!
And if you need more justification, there’s this: more and more research confirms what we bibliophiles know instinctively—reading is good. Good for the soul, good for the brain, good for the individual, good for the community, good for the world. Stories, essays, memoirs, poems, plays . . . reading connects us to each other, builds empathy, and feeds the light within.
There is so much that could be said about the value of reading. In the immortal words of Inigo Montoya, “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” A 2020 article in the Harvard Business Review reported on findings that:
Fiction builds empathy, because
“fiction provides an opportunity
to complicate standard good versus evil tropes.
Good literature presents characters
with competing and often equally valid viewpoints.”
Developing empathy by seeing the world through another’s eyes is one of the underlying themes in Two Over Easy All Day Long, as mentioned in the review by A Quintillion Words excerpted above.
And so, “to flog a horse, that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring,” (quoting Tom Hanks as The Professor in the 2004 version of the movie The Ladykillers), here is my ask, my recommendation, and my advice:
Give a book —
Two Over Easy All Day Long
or any book.
Better still, give lots of books
and
do it today!
Still on the fence? Check out my website for more reviews of Two Over Easy All Day Long, and past newsletters for other wonderful book recommendations!
Image of a reader by Bowie15 from Getty Images (text added).
Storytelling: Building Bridges
Here’s to building bridges through storytelling. ’
Image by Cody Hiscox @codyhiscox
I’m giving up on the ironic “so little to share” and will tell you plainly: there’s so much to share! Some of the news follows, but if you want to skip right to the heart of this particular newsletter, and the source of the title Storytelling: Building Bridges, scroll down to the bottom. Better yet, click right on through to this NPR Article.
Otherwise, hold onto your hats for news!
Two Over Easy All Day Long has received new reviews, available on the New Release page. A few of my favorite comments:
Readers’ Favorite gives it 5 Stars and calls it “a deeply moving and thought-provoking read” with themes of “resilience, adaptation, and the transformative power of compassion.”
Reader Tammar Paynter says it is “a very well crafted book, finely plotted and beautifully written,” and says, “After finishing the book, I felt a sense of hope, feeling that growth and change are possible even after tragedy.”
Midwest Book Review says, “Two Over Easy All Day Long is a fun read from start to finish, and an impressive work of literary excellence . . . .”
Literary Titan gives it 4 Stars and calls it “a compelling story” with “richly drawn characters,” “a thought-provoking and heartwarming read that explores themes of accountability, personal growth, and the power of community.”
Reader Heather H says she “loved this well-written, quirky, and captivating book. A highly recommended read that speaks to the power of community, hope, resilience, and transformation.”
There was also a marvelous write-up in the Salish Current by talented writer Gretchen Wing: Lopez Author’s Debut Novel Rooted in People and Place (A quick plug for the Salish Current and for independent local media!)
The book launch party was fabulous! Over sixty wonderful friends and family came, many bringing delicious food to share (potlucks are a favorite tradition here on “my” island). The Friends of the Library introduced themselves and their amazing work in our community, and several library staff and volunteers gave up their Friday evening to share the celebration - “grateful” doesn’t begin to describe it! Last but definitely not least, if you haven’t already listened to the original music Adam Brock shared with us at the party, check it out (and if you have already heard it, well, it’s worth another listen or two or three hundred): At the Library
More readings are scheduled in Friday Harbor, Washington and Bend, Oregon, with others in the works. Keep an eye on the Home Page for advance notice.
There are more updates but for today I’m borrowing
the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons,
or the Monty Python skits (if you prefer):
“And now for something completely different . . .”
Last week, NPR’s All Things Considered covered a story titled, “Abortion can be difficult to talk about. These 14 strangers took it on anyway,” by Maayan Silver (NPR 5/24/2024). Accessed 5/24/2024.
Why on earth would I focus on such a controversial topic in this newsletter?
Because the NPR article gets at the heart of what believe is the last best hope for humanity, and, coincidentally, the reason I write fiction. I believe what this world needs now (more than a refreshing carbonated beverage which shall remain nameless, maybe even more than “love, sweet love,”) is communication, people telling their stories to each other, and listening to each other’s stories, and deciding together that they don’t have to agree politically or religiously to recognize our shared humanity.
I’ve said it before and will say it again, and again, and again: stories build bridges, bridges that span the metaphorical canyons currently dividing us.
The article points out the fourteen participants from wildly different political sides of the abortion issue forged lasting friendships, in spite of their differences, and ends with this paragraph:
“That's how this starts,” says Gardner Mishlove [one of the participants]. “A relationship develops, you get to see someone else's point of view. It challenges you.” She says maybe they only agree on the right color socks to wear, “but that’s a start, right?”
In this time of war (even as we honor those we’ve lost to war), and loss and grief (even as those losses and griefs continue, seemingly unabated), and divisions and broken bridges:
Here’s to Relationships. Here’s to Storytelling. Here’s to Building Bridges.
Tune in next time for more book reviews! Sneak Peek:
“Stories are life lived backward.” The Book of Form and Emptiness, by Ruth Ozeki (Penguin Books 2022)
“When we are paying attention, we see how much holds us invisibly. Love is a bench.” Somehow, by Anne Lamott (Riverhead Books 2024)
Ode to Curmudgeons
Why do we love curmudgeons so? Maybe because there’s a little curmudgeon in everyone.
Portrait of Walt Whitman
On the cover of The Illustrated American, April 19, 1890
Why do we love curmudgeons so?
Cantankerous characters are sprinkled liberally throughout literature. Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, Ove in A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (Atria Books 2015), Ernest in Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, by Helen Simonson (Random House 2011).
. . . the two old Muppets who sit in the balcony and heckle everyone . . .
. . . the grieving old man in the movie Up . . .
. . . Winston Churchill. Who can forget this famous exchange?
Bessie Braddock MP: “Winston, you are drunk, and what’s more
you are disgustingly drunk.”
Churchill: “Bessie, my dear, you are ugly, and what’s more, you are disgustingly ugly. But tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be disgustingly ugly.”
As an aside, there is much to dislike about this, including, of course, the fact that the ultimate diss on a woman is (assumed to be) insulting her looks. That certainly didn’t start with Churchill and, alas, continues still.
The thing is, curmudgeonly quips and sarcasm can be wickedly amusing to hear or see or read about.
Living with them? Not so much.
I have a theory about curmudgeons. I think we admire them, in literature and in real life, because they say what we polite and sensitive folks are too . . . polite and sensitive to say.
When a neighbor invites herself in for coffee and all you want is to be left alone in your smelly sweatpants so you can finish off the package of Lorna Doone’s, the curmudgeon will shut the door, irritably, on the neighbor, with or without a growled, “I’m busy.”
But you will say Oh of course, come in, let me make another pot of coffee, I’m not doing anything right now.
Because you are a kind person who really doesn’t want to hurt your neighbor’s feelings.
An extremely unscientific poll reveals that the surly cook is most readers’ favorite Two Over Easy All Day Long character. Walt, who grows shallots in his garden and sneaks them into the diner, and writes poetry on the side. Walt, who is almost uniformly rude and irritable and announces to all and sundry: “I’m Walt and I don’t like chitchat.”
So why do readers like him? Is it because he dispenses with social niceties when talking to Tony, the wealthy company president who’s had enough social niceties to last several lifetimes but a dearth of opportunities to practice actually being nice?
Possibly.
I think another reason may be the idea, possibly mythical, that every curmudgeonly exterior hides a soft heart, the fuzzy underbelly of the porcupine.
Like many writers, I don’t so much create characters as transcribe them onto the page. They saunter or creep or march into my consciousness and instruct me, imperiously, “Take this down, scribe,” or whisper plaintively, hopefully, “Would you, perhaps, be willing to tell my tale?”
Walt’s spirit was complex from the outset, and I have tried to be faithful to that. He is kind to Nareen, probably recognizing her as a kindred spirit, and to Nancy, who is already carrying the weight of the world in her “VW Bug of hearts.” So it’s not so much that he reveals a hidden softness as that he is a complicated man, sometimes practically heroic in his generosity of spirit, other times only and exactly what Nancy calls him: a cranky old fart.
Maybe we love curmudgeons because they give us grace for the moments we cannot muster the strength to be kind. And because, like you and me and everyone else I know, they are occasionally inspired by their better angels, but mostly they’re just muddling through.
