Julia Alvarez at Hickory's Big Read

Speaking at Lenoir Rhyne University's Monroe Auditorium, Julia Alvarez demonstrated the power of repetition as she shared her own story, that of an American writer with roots in the Dominican Republic. More than once, she reminded her audience of the pivotal events in her life that led her to this place in her career: 1960--New York City--a sixth grade teacher--a librarian. Born in the United States, Alvarez spent her first ten years in her family's home in the Dominican Republic before fleeing the Trujilla dictatorship. When she was taunted by her classmates, "Why don't you go back where you came from?" she wanted to say, "We can't go back." She compared her situation to the cartoon characters who find them selves running off a cliff, realizing, "Yikes!" there is no ground below their feet and no way to turn back.

Alvarez's first novel, How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents was chosen for this year's Hickory Big Read, and she has been in Hickory since Wednesday, signing books at the library, speaking to 2500 fourth graders on Thursday, and speaking again to students on Saturday. Not living in Vermont, Alvarez described her own time in Fayetteville, North Carolina in the late 70s, teaching poetry to the elderly. (She learned later that some had come to the class thinking she was teaching them about poultry.)

In a carefully prepared but conversationally delivered presentation, Alvarez came across as generous and self-effacing. Before her introduction the audience was told she would speak 20-30 minutes, followed by a period of questions and answers. Although the time flew by, she seemed in no hurry to end her speaking engagement or to cut off any questions that remained.

Ms.Alvarez considers herself an American writer. In response to one audience question, she admitted that she came to literature through North American writers, canonical writers. In fact, she pointed out her wonderment that she now finds herself located on library shelves right next to Louisa Mae Alcott, near Emily Dickinson, on the opposite end of the alphabet from Walt Whitman.

In the literature class I teach this semester, I assigned a chapter in our text devoted to Julia Alvarez's poetry. Even before I heard her speak, I was struck by her easy allusions to Frost, to William Carlos Williams, to a host of canonical writers. Although she didn't come into literature through Latino/Latina writers, she does attribute the influence of the storytelling tradition to those roots.

She quoted former slave Terence, who said, "I am a human being. Nothing human is alien to me." Indeed, the thrust of her presentation focused on the power of storytelling. In fact, when she mentioned some of her favorites from literature, she alluded to Nancy Drew, but specifically mentioned Scheherazade, the hero of the Thousand and One Arabian Nights. She reminded us that stories are all around us and that, she said, is how we learn to be human.

I know all too well how unpredictable author readings can be. Some seem to have an inner clock ticking; some seem to wish they had stayed home. Julia Alvarez seemed genuinely pleased to be right where she was--in a room full of readers, an audience that chose to be there with her on a beautiful Friday night in Spring.

Julia Alvarez at Hickory's Big Read

It's a Wrap

As I keep several books going at once these days, sometimes they all wrap up about the same time. This week has been exceptional. Listening to Norman Mailer's Castle in the Forest, a 15-CD audio book, I found the going tough sometimes. The book is a story of Hitler's childhood and his parents' lives, and the narrator is the devil responsible for looking after young Adolph (Addie), so I had a hard time finding a sympathetic character. Mailer had done extensive research to put together this background tale of one of history's most infamous characters--a real monster. As I neared the end, though, I discovered that CD #15 was missing. I turned my car upside down, looking everywhere I could imagine, then realized that I had a book on my shelves, so I finished the old fashioned way.

At the same time, I've been re-reading Serena on the same reading schedule I've assigned to my students in preparation for Ron Rash's appearance at our Writers Symposium on April 23-24. I finished it within twenty-four hours of finishing Castle in the Forest.

Then before bedtime last night, I happened to pick up Stitches, the graphic novel/memoir by David Small. Until now, the only graphic novel I've read is Maus. This story came through recommendations at the November NCTE convention (where I get so many of my good titles). The story is dark--Small's dysfunctional family let him go through surgery as a preteen without ever telling him he had cancer. Even the book cover reflects the dark nature of the book, a picture of Small's parents and grandparents. A close look shows that around the author's name is a dialogue balloon in which his (insane) grandmother says "...by my durn grandson David Small Durnit !!" Not exactly ideal bedtime reading, but original and thought-provoking enough that I may have to look for Persepolis, the graphic novel I hope to read next.

It's a Wrap

Fiddling with Form

As I'm reading the poetry collections in my own library this month, the ones acquired in the last year especially, I am also teaching poetry in my Literature-Based Research class. Today as we discussed fixed form in contrast to free verse, I talked about the challenge not only of using the framework established by a fixed form such as a sonnet or sestina, but of creating something clever, original, or even beautiful in the process. After all, isn't that what drew Renaissance poets to the sonnet?

Two poets have achieved just such a feat with quite original constraints in the past year. First, Fred Chappel succeeded in his book Shadow Box to create a poem within each poem. At readings, his wife sometimes reads the inner poem as he reads the outer lines, reminding me of the power of poetry out loud.

In a quite different turn, Mike Smith's book Multiverse uses anagram in a most original way. The first section, entitled "A Bestiary," uses the same exact letters--no more, no fewer--to create each poem. His titles range from "Ape" to "Zebra" and all in between. The section section "Anagram of America" rearranges the letters of poems by famous poets to create something new, often in response to the original. He creates anagrams of Auden's "The Unknown Citizen," Bishop's "Filling Station," and Whitman's "O Captain, My Captain."

I cannot comprehend the tediousness of Smith's accomplishment, but I can certainly admire it--and I can enjoy the results, since he has succeeded in creating something new, endowed with meaning and message. He and Chappel make villanelles and sestinas look like a piece of cake.

Fiddling with Form

An Encouraging Word about Chapbooks, Take 2

Friday before I left the office for the long weekend break, I tried to publish a post about poetry. Never having had bad luck on this blog, I didn't think to save what I was posting, but when I clicked Publish, it all went away. Although I can't possibly remember everything I wrote, I'm going to try again.

Whenever I start spouting off about National Poetry Month--or poetry in general, I am either dismayed or disappointed at the number of reading friends who never consider poetry. In a way, I think Billy Collins may have been correct when he said that "high school is where poetry goes to die." I've tried not to be one of those teachers, but I do remember crossing paths with the ones who inflicted poetry on students rather than tantalizing us with it.

I've always loved poetry, but in the last few years, as I have been writing more, I have also been reading more. My suggestion to anyone who is reluctant or intimidated about reading poetry is that you start with a chapbook. These slender volumes usually have only 25-30 poems, usually focused on a central theme. The investment in time and money is minimal, but the payoff is often quite wonderful. This month, I've committed to read some of the chapbooks I've accumulated this year. I've dipped into a few, but I want to read the whole book at once to get the full effect.

I've started with Breathing Out by Bruce Niedt, a friend I've not actually met. Bruce participates in Poetic Asides, the online poetry community where I've been writing for two years now. In Bruce's work, I recognize a kindred spirit, and I enjoy his approach to a writing prompt. I'm not sure if his blog title Orange Peel inspired the first poem in his collection, a sensuous poem called"How to Peel an Orange," or vice versa. In "The Little Shoplifters, the speaker of the poem observes birds feasting on a spilt bag of seed at the home improvement stores. Another favorite of mine from this chapbook is "All the Clocks in My House are Set to Different Times."

Chapbooks are available in many places. If you check the poetry section of a book store, especially the indies, you may find volumes by local or regional poets. If you keep an eye out for readings in your area, you can usually pick up books published by the poets reading. Several presses that feature poetry have an online presence, even on Facebook.

Before ruling out poetry altogether, I suggest you try it again, this time with no essay to write, no multiple choice test to take. Read for the pleasure. That's why poets write, you know. As William Carlos Williams said, "If it ain't pleasure, it ain't a poem."

An Encouraging Word about Chapbooks, Take 2

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

Just as I've learned whom to trust in matters of book recommendations, I'm also cautious when recommending a book. While I am often eager to convince members of my book club to read novels I've already read and loved, we more often choose a title none of us have read. For April, at my suggestion, based completely on the word of one of my favorite readers, we settled on Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog. As I started reading this unusual story, translated from French, of a nondescript concierge and a young girl contemplating suicide, I worried about how my group would respond. Truly, much of the book delves deep into philosophy. I loved both characters, Renee and her young neighbor Paloma, and enjoyed the alternating accounts. I kept wondering, though, when they would discover one another, kindred spirits from such different backgrounds.

They meet through Kakuro Uzo, the newest tenant in the building, and what results is a beautiful, heartbreaking story of love and hope and friendship. I'm not one to weep, but just now, as I've turned the last page of the book, I feel heartbroken. Already, I'm thinking of who all I know that need to read this book too.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

On Anticipation of National Poetry Month

I know I am home. Today when, at lunch, a table full of my colleagues, my friends, spent our time voluntarily making plans for celebration of National Poetry Month, I knew I was with my people. I do my best each spring to synchronize my lit class syllabus with the calendar as well, introducing poetry just past mid-April, hoping that by the time April Fool's Day rolls around, I've managed to light a spark or two at least.

Today was that day. Never do those fifty minutes of class time fly faster than when I'm teaching poetry. Even without the bell, I know when my time's nearly up by the rustle as obvious as hymn books scraping out of the racks as the preacher winds down his sermon and offer the altar call. I want to say, "Oh, sit back down. Let's blow off your math class today and just talk poetry." I've had wonderful teachers who loved poetry and passed that love on to me. I've also had teachers who firmly believed they held the answer key to all of the literary canon. For Mrs. Hopper, my fifth and sixth grade teacher, I am grateful for her willingness time and again to read to use Longfellow's "Skipper Ireson's Ride."

My family also passed along a love for poetry--nothing over the top. We just managed to be surrounded by it--Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses, "The Duel"--the dreadful tale of the gingham dog and the callico cat, "Abou Ben Adhem" ("may his tribe increase"). Since Daddy's still preaching, he'll occasionally call and ask me to help him find a particular poem that's on his mind. I feel sure, too, that with a little prodding, he can still quote the last stanza of "Thanatopsis."

This month, I will keep reading as voraciously as ever, but I will be deliberately reading poetry. I have a backlog of chapbooks of friends and of friends I've never exactly met. That's where I intend to start. I'll be tuning in and sharing some of the best.

On Anticipation of National Poetry Month

Revisiting a Favorite

If I didn't teach literature, I'm not sure how many books I'd read a second time--not that there aren't several I would love to revisit, but there are just so many out there still untouched. My re-reading experience, though, reminds me how much is to be gained by reading a book--or a poem or a story--for a second time or more. Sometimes even though the book hasn't changed, I have. Even when I've read a book recently, I make so many new discoveries the second time through.

This week my students in English 111 were to have read the first nine chapters of Ron Rash's latest novel Serena. I first read the book back before it went on the market, and I loved it. I had read Rash's three earlier novels, One Foot in Eden, Saints at the River, and The World Made Straight, as well as some of his poetry and short stories. Having taught Macbeth to high school seniors for many years, I particularly enjoyed the allusions and parallels.

Assigning a novel to a composition class is a tough sell, but all of our first year English classes are incorporating the novel this semester in preparation for Rash's appearance at our Writers Symposium April 22-23 on campus. Some grumbled a little, but as they've started to read, I've enjoyed hearing the chatter. Most gratifying of all, I get questions such as "Can I read on past the first nine chapters?" I overhear students saying, "Our cable went out, so I started reading it and then I couldn't quit." They hate Serena, the title character. I reassure them they are supposed to hate her. She's evil. She makes Lady Macbeth look like a Girl Scout.

When I recommend books to individuals, I can tailor my selections to fit the reader, but when I am helping to choose something for dozens, even hundreds of people of all ages, genders, and backgrounds, I want to get it right. Since my overriding goal is to inspire a love of reading for pleasure, I want to do everything I can to make the literary experience a good one. In fact, my goal is for them to be ready for the next suggestion. I feel as if I'm participating in one big book club. I know, too, that having Ron Rash on campus to speak to them will be such a bonus. I can't wait to see what we pick for next semester.

Revisiting a Favorite