High Line book party

I’ve been a Friend of the High Line for several years and received an invitation to the party for the new book about the High Line written by the two guys who made it all happen, Joshua David and Robert Hammond. The book is High Line: The Inside Story of New York’s Park in the Sky. It was a lovely evening, so I headed over with my friend Sandy around 6:30pm. We’d been having a run of especially warm weather for mid-October and it was a beautiful evening. The quality of the light as the sun went down was extraordinary–kind of a peachy yellow. We walked south on the High Line to 16th St. where the party was held and we could see that beautiful view of the harbor that you get as you approach the Chelsea Passage with the streaky sunset behind it.

The area was roped off, but my name was on a list so we went in and had some of the hors d’oeuvres that were being passed around and I bought a copy of the new High Line book and had it signed for my husband, who couldn’t make it. We walked around for a while, enjoying what’s probably one of the last few days of summer temperatures, and then walked north for a while into the new part of the park that stretches up to 30th St. Even this first year, the trees there have grown so large that it’s like walking through a narrow wooded path . The landscape design continues to develop and enchant.

The narrative part of the book is in the form of a conversation between Hammond and David, tracing the inception of the idea to the reality of thousands of people wandering, eating, sleeping, jogging, and sunning themselves. There are a huge number of photographs, many of which I’ve never seen before, like the one that shows the “cowboys” that were hired to ride in front of the trains when they were at ground level on 11th Ave. to warn away pedestrians. In such a contentious city, where every project is hotly debated and so many never come to fruition, the High Line is literally, a breath of fresh air.

Celebrating 50 Years of Mastering the Art of French Cooking

My friend Polly and I attended this event last week at the National Arts Club–worth it just to get inside this gorgeous place on Gramercy Park! We arrived early, afraid of the usual crush of New Yorkers, but we had plenty of time to pick out choice seats before the room began to fill up. While we were waiting, there was a loop playing of the old Julia Child black-and-white TV programs; such fun to watch her slapdash style and hear her wonderful plummy voice.

It was a large panel–6 plus the moderator, and Molly O’Neill, who didn’t make it, would have made 7. I was so hoping to see and hear her, mainly because I included her terrific memoir, Mostly True: A Memoir of Family, Food, and Baseball in my book. I do feel a connection with all those memoirists!

Almost everyone on the panel had met Julia and I loved hearing their stories about her: her generosity, her focus and attention to detail, her sincerity, and the way she welcomed people into her life. Her first editor, Judith Jones, spoke about how, after making the rounds of several publishers, all of whom felt that there was no U.S. market for a serious French cookbook, the manuscript came to her, a newbie in the Knopf offices and she realized how wonderful it was. If you’ve seen the movie Julie and Julia, you probably remember the scene of Judith Jones making boeuf bourguignon from Julia’s recipe. Jones’s own memoir of her stellar career in publishing, The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food, was published in 2008.

The other panelists were Dana Polan, Laura Shapiro, Dr. Amy Trubek, Geoffrey Drummond, and Priscilla Ferguson. The moderator was Andrew F. Smith.

I have a list of interesting cooks’ and foodies’ memoirs here.

Calvin Trillin at the Strand Bookstore

I love a chance to hear Calvin Trillin speak; there’s no one with a sense of humor quite like his: dry ,wry, and hilarious. He spoke at The Strand last Wednesday night to promote his new book Quite Enough of Calvin Trillin: Forty Years of Funny Stuff. The setting was the new third floor public space, filled with rare books and signed and inscribed books. It was just right. Several years ago I saw a video of a talk he gave somewhere in the Midwest. One of the lines that I remember goes like this: “The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.”

Someone in the audience asked Trillin for the secret of writing humor. He answered that it was important to put in specific details–if you’re eating a Philly cheesesteak while leaning against a car, it’s funnier if you describe the car as a Pontiac. For me, that’s the secret of Woody Allen’s humor, too, the absurd, telling detail. Like his line, “Not only is there no God, but try getting a plumber on weekends.” It’s the juxtaposition of the sublime and the mundane that gets the laugh.

National Reading Group Month Event

I’m moderating a panel in New York in celebration of National Reading Group Month this Thursday evening, Oct. 20th. This is my third year doing this and I love it. The five authors on the panel, in no particular order, are: Julie Otsuka (just nominated for the National Book Award for The Buddha in the Attic), Scott Spencer (Man in the Woods), Nayana Currimbhoy (Miss Timmins’ School for Girls), Annia Ciezadlo (Day of Honey: A Memoir of Food, Love, and War), and Aine Greaney (Dance Lessons). The program is sponsored by the Women’s National Book Association and it should be a lovely evening.

I’ve read all the books and enjoyed them–they’re very different from each other in style, language, setting, character, so I’m hoping to get some good discussions going among the authors that evening of the panel.  I’ve listened to podcasts and downloads of interviews with the authors where I could find them in preparation and now I’m really excited to meet them.

The titles above, with the exception of Scott Spencer’s Man in the Woods and Nayana Currimbhoy’s Miss Timmins’ School for Girls, are on the Great Group Reads list this year. They’d also work well for book groups–lots to talk about in both.

National Reading Group Month

October is National Reading Group Month, a good time to think about how much our lives are enriched by the discussions we have with friends–and even casual acquaintances–about books. I have to admit I have a special interest here; I chair the committee of readers who read and select the titles for the Great Group Reads list that comes out as part of National Reading Group Month.

I spend all spring and summer madly reading and (virtually) talking about the books that are candidates for that list. We vote in August and then the list is released in mid-September. I love the titles on this year’s list; they’re a more diverse group than we’ve had before (this year we picked more titles). It’s diverse in writing style, setting, plot, character–all the many ways that novels can differ from each other. And we have a few lovely memoirs.  I’ll write more about individual titles in later posts.

Agincourt

I was away for a few weeks, vacationing in Barcelona and Provence (pictures to come!), and of course I had to make the big decision about what to take along to read. A plane ride without a book is unthinkable. We were determined to travel with only carry-on bags, so that made the decision harder. I decided to bring my little MP3 player, which is always loaded up with audiobooks and podcasts.

I was already nearing the end of Bernard Cornwell’s Agincourt, so Nicholas Hook and his adventures at the famous battle kept me company for the flight to Barcelona. A week later, when we arrived in France, Agincourt turned out to have been an ideal reading choice. Our first stop, after picking up our rental car in Montpellier, was Aigues-Mortes, a remarkably well-preserved medieval walled and fortified city.

Although the setting of the Cornwell’s novel is the northwest of France and not the south coast, Aigues-Mortes is contemporaneous with the walled city of Harfleur, the location of one of the battles Cornwell so vividly describes. At Aigues-Mortes, I could “see” what Cornwell was describing, a further reminder that the more we know about where we travel, the more meaningful the trip.

I don’t usually read war stories, but Cornwell has such a sterling reputation as a historical novelist that I thought I’d give him a try. He doesn’t spare the reader the descriptions of bloody warfare, but the characters he creates are real and compelling, their lives woven seamlessly into the beautifully realized historical setting. It also didn’t hurt that the narrator–Charles Keating–was superb, creating distinct voices for each character that captured the essence of their personality. It was a tour de force of writing and narration. I’m hoping that Agincourt is the first in a new Cornwell series–as the characters rode off into the sunset at the end, I had a strong feeling that Cornwell had more in mind for them.

Cathleen Schine and Adam Gopnik in Conversation

You can attend this event at the Museum of the City of New York at members’ prices if you mention A Readers Place. I’d love to be there but have another commitment. I read Schine’s last novel The Three Weissmans of Westport and thought it was delightful and loved Adam Gopnik’s Paris to the Moon. There are always too many book and literature-related things to do in New York. Sigh.

A Sense of Place

Yesterday I spoke at the New Jersey Library Association annual conference about audiobooks with a strong sense of “place.” The talk was called “Around the World in Audiobooks.” I love to listen to books and I keep my little Sansa Clip full of books and podcasts. I have an adapter for my car so I’m always ready to listen to the next chapter. I’ve posted my handout with the complete list of titles here. Feel free to print it out and enjoy!

Book with a strong sense of place or a vivid setting are great for audio–that narrator’s voice in your ear creates a whole world that no one else can hear and it becomes a place you can escape to.  It’s the best kind of armchair travel: someone else has planned the itinerary, made the packing decisions, and gone through the security scanner for you.

In preparing for the talk I wanted a diverse group of titles, so I listened to audiobooks that I normally would have bypassed. Much to my surprise I was riveted by Matterhorn (Karl Marlantes), The Brutal Telling (Louise Penny), Agincourt (Bernard Cornwell), and Shanghai Girls (Lisa See) because of the combination of compelling story and vivid, insightful narration.

The Year We Left Home

I was having lunch with my cousin Jane last week and we were talking about the kinds of books we like to read and we both agreed that we don’t need closure in a novel, that in fact, we prefer ambiguous endings. Life goes on and there’s rarely closure and it’s satisfying to find those qualities in a novel. I think that’s why for me, reading mysteries is like eating candy (not a good habit). When you’re done reading (or chewing), the thrill is gone and you need another one to stoke your addiction.

My most recent favorite novel with an ambiguous ending is The Year We Left Home by Jean Thompson, coming out in May. Thompson follows a Midwestern family for 30 years, particularly the children who come of age in the early 1970s. Thompson’s descriptions of people and situations are fabulous: a disliked brother-in-law is “an undigested lump” in the family. The chapters are like punchy short stories, filled with character, incident, and the economic and social changes that reverberated in the lives of farming families in the Midwest.

Nothing in these characters’ lives can be predicted, but everything feels just right. At the end, there’s sadness, redemption, and some new beginnings, leaving us with lives we recognize as our own.

Moms

Last Friday, Jan 14th, Shelf Awareness reviewed the new book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua and called it one of the growing genre of “momoirs,” memoirs about motherhood. It made me think about the other side–memoirs written about mothers, also a huge genre. Mothers loom large in our lives, so I began to think about what titles I would put on a short list of compelling mother-focused memoirs. These are older titles that bear reading in any year:
Rick Bragg’s All Over But the Shoutin’
Vivian Gornick’s Fierce Attachments
James McBride’s The Color of Water: A Black Man’s Tribute to His White Mother
Jackie Lyden’s Daughter of the Queen of Sheba
John McGahern’s All Will Be Well
Terry Ryan’s The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio
Mary Gordon’s Circling My Mother