The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender delivers eye-opening writing (and fits no categories — yay!)

Ellen Klein, who stands behind Alexandria, VA's fabulous independent children's bookstore, Hooray for Books, (and who introduced me to Debbie Levy, a friendship I'll always cherish), sent a somewhat cryptic note not long ago.

Ellen had read One Thing Stolen, she said. And therefore I was read The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender, a book she has called as "rare and beautiful as Mona Lisa's smile." The author is Leslye Walton. It is a debut. It has turned many heads and now, when I think back on it, I remember dear Kelsey Coons (my cousin's daughter, a beautiful soul, a smart cookie, a holder of a master's degree in publishing, a design talent currently completing a fellowship at Chronicle, and a rising star in publishing) urging me toward the title, too.

I was to read the book, Ellen said, but only if I bought it at an independent. (My preference anyway, though my determination to buy Brown Girl Dreaming and I'll Give You the Sun from an independent has been thwarted by sold-out shelves everywhere I turn. Still, I'm holding on.)

In any case, it's been a hectic time. But I found Ava at the Doylestown Bookshop and last night read the first 50 pages. Ava is clearly a no-categories book, a concept I embrace from head to foot. It is also astonishingly beautifully written, and while I have not finished (I will!), I stop in my enthusiasm to quote you this, below. It doesn't matter what the story is about (not yet, not to me, anyway). I'm just in love with the vivacious prose:

The day Emilienne met Satin Lush she was wearing her cloche hat, newly painted with red poppies. Her hair was curled and peeked lightly out from under the hat to cup the curve of her chin. There was a rip in her stocking. It was May and heavy wet lines of spring rain streamed down the windows of the cafe where Emilienne had just spent her day serving black coffee and sticky buns to dreamless Irishmen. The smell of glazed sugar and folded pride still lingered on her clothes. As she waited for the rain to let up, the bells of Saint Peter's chimed five times and the water fell only harder upon the awning over her head.

She was thinking of the loveliness of such moments, admiring the rain and the graying sky the way one might admire the painting of an up-and-coming artist, one whose celebrity seems presaged by the swirls of his brush marks. It was while she was in the midst of such thoughts that Satin Lush walked out of the cafe, the clink of his legs disturbing the rhythm of the rain against the awning.

Aren't you in love, too?

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Imperfect Spiral/Debbie Levy: Reflections

Last Saturday, as readers of the blog know, I had the great privilege of meeting Debbie Levy at Hooray for Books, a lovely independent in Alexandria, VA. Eloquent, gracious, reflective, considerate, Debbie Levy is not just a remarkable human being. She is an important writer, and her new book, Imperfect Spiral (Walker Books) is huge.

Danielle—a teen prone to panic attacks, a mediator by temperament, a quiet second among vocal, talented friends—has forged a meaningful relationship with a five-year old named Humphrey. She is his babysitter. He is her imaginative friend with a steep vocabulary. And one day, early in the book, he is killed while he is in her care. He runs into a car on a suburban street at dusk. Not her fault—that's what everyone says. But Danielle can't even talk about it.

The town talks, however. Its people clamor to use the accident as an excuse to plant sidewalks instead of trees, spend money on lights that are not needed, and talk about the "illegal aliens"—or undocumented immigrants—upon whom they'd like to pin Humphrey's death. It's a big storm. There are many weather systems. Danielle's friends and family and neighbors, not to mention her therapist and a local journalist, would like to implicate her somehow—force her to speak up, act out, exclaim. But Danielle can't even remember the moment of Humphrey's death. It's all white noise. It's beyond her. And always, in her imagination, her memory, is Humphrey himself, one of the most endearing little boys I've encountered in all of literature. He is big hearted, smart, playful, and still a kid. He is the sure thing, and he is gone.

A trained lawyer, Levy writes with tremendous objectivity and full-roundedness about a prickly, raging issue (to whom does this country belong?). She offers cautions against referring to human beings as "illegals" and "aliens." She presents all sides of a tricky story, but her issue never dominates. At the heart of her story are wisely formed characters, clear, sustaining language, and teens who talk like teens—the respectful, intelligent, heartbroken kind.

Marissa says she isn't anti. She's pro.
Well, I'm both.
Here's what I'm anti: random deadly accidents.
Here's what I'm pro: do-overs.
Send me the website for that.

And then there's all that love that a babysitter feels for the child in her care—innocent love, respectful love. There's the conversation that must ultimately be had between the babysitter who feels such guilt and the mother who feels such loss.

Tender, compassionate, big—a book written neither to leverage nor advertise an issue (but to illuminate it)—I recommend Imperfect Spiral to every reader out there.

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in which my nieces (and Serena) take their turn at responsive writing, at Hooray of Books

One of the very great privileges of spending yesterday in Alexandria, VA, at Hooray for Books, in the company of Debbie Levy, family, and friends, was the time we took to write together. Debbie encouraged us to write in the tradition of her mother's poesiealbum—the book of brief holocaust-era letters, urgings, and clippings that inspired her book, The Year of Goodbyes. She asked us, specifically, to think about this:

What about you are you sure your friends or classmates will remember 70 years from now? What do you hope they forget? (We adults were urged to think about what we hope long-lost friends who encounter us now will remember—and forget.)

Since we had been talking about the thin line between fiction and truth, I urged our readers/writers to take something from their pocket and write its autobiography. We heard from paperclips, car keys, phones, and a dollar bill, among other laughter-inducing things.

Here, below, are two responses. The first is by my niece, Julia, who is entering her second year at the Corcoran College of Art and Design; she is a talented photographer. The second is from Claire, whose 13th birthday I helped celebrate earlier this year. She's a big reader, a fabulous student, and all-round athlete.

The Remember? Forget? Exercise/Julia Emma Kephart Roberts

I go to a small small school in the basement of a museum, where you can usually find me in the first cubby of one of the largest darkrooms you've ever seen. There are about 300 students total - smaller than my graduating high school class. I know them all by name and face. I follow them on instagram and tumblr and flickr and every other website imaginable. But older folks be forewarned this means nothing in the actual relationship I have with these people. It also means nothing in regards to what I know about them or what they know about me. What stands out to one person about myself could be completely overlooked or misread by another. Because if you think about it, none of us really know what is remembered or forgotten or even if any of it is true or false, just what we remember about ourselves.

Autobiography of a SmartPhone/Claire Kephart Roberts

There’s a sad but almost happy loneliness the comes with being placed in someone's back pocket and sat on about a hundred times each day. You don’t get to choose what you wear, how you act, or most of all who you are. Everything about you is decided by someone of a higher standard. Although I am smarter then most significants around me I have no choice but to sit quietly and do what I am told. But the idea that my quietness has changed the life of anyone who finds me and my friends is almost remarkable. Significants put their life in us, what we hold is more then a game and social websites, everything typed and every scratch we acquire puts a new, maybe scary thought in our significant's head. Every little thing we do slowly eventually will blur our significant's lines until unreadable and they have no choice but to totally completely rely on us until we ourselves rule them.

And then there's this amazing narrative about our day together, written by Serena Agusto-Cox, who dressed her super-well-behaved little girl in bright pink and shared her with us. Serena has a response to the writing prompt in this post—a beautiful poem. I encourage you to click this link, and read it for yourself.

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at Hooray for Books, with Debbie Levy, family, friends

We may all have niches of incapability, but I suspect that I have more than most. Making perfect corners on a bed is on that list. So is watching blood-soaked horror films. So is driving alone in high traffic for several hours.

Yesterday, however, I overcame Incapability Number Three and drove alone to Alexandria, VA, to spend time at Hooray for Books. Jessica Shoffel of Penguin had already told me what a great place this was. Ellen, the proprietor, had mentioned the chance to share the afternoon with Debbie Levy. And I have family in those parts—my sister and her three children.

So I was there, I drove, I conquered. And I will be forever glad that I did. Hooray for Books is a beautiful enterprise, right there on King Street, in a town that is ripe with interesting shops and cupcake nooks. Debbie Levy—whose new book, Imperfect Spiral, I will be writing of here soon—is a one-hundred-percent class act. So talented, so well-prepared, so interesting, so thoughtful, so professional that I had to stop my feather-earringed self from standing up and shouting "yes!" as she spoke. What a conversation we had about truth, fiction, and the line in between. What unexpected side trips we took as we explored form and economy. And when we proposed to our gathering that they join us in a mini writing workshop, the room was game. We heard from writers of all ages, and we heard fine tales. We had so much fun that we decided to take our show on the road. We may still need a booking agent. But we've already got our drummer—Patrick, who works at Hooray for Books—who blew us away with his charm and words.

But look at the first photo here. That is my family. My father, who was in Alexandria to spend time with his grandchildren, my sister (just back from San Diego), and her two younger children, Claire and Daniel; Julia, her eldest, a photographer, joined us later. I am used to trekking out on book talk missions alone; it was incredible to have family near. I had made them many promises about the goodness of Debbie Levy, and Debbie lived up to every inch of them.

Great thanks to Serena, who joined us with her family, and to Deborah and Will, gracious hosts. And thank you to the wonderful guests who contributed so much to the day. I signed my first in-store copies of Handling the Truth yesterday, signing copy number 1 to a fourteen-year-old girl who had arrived with her parents and who expressed such interest in reading and writing that it will fuel me for a very long time. And I signed my first paperback copies of Small Damages. That, too, was a fine, fine thing.

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Join Debbie Levy and me in Alexandria, VA, as we share our new books and think about the fine line between truth and fiction

Over the next many months I'll be traveling around the country talking about books and how they get made. Often, I'll be doing this work in conjunction with writers I've always admired and cannot wait to meet. (Or announce here, just as soon as I can.)

This afternoon, I can formally announce the first such collaborative conversation, which I will be having with the esteemed author, Debbie Levy, a multi-genre, multi-award winning author of picture books, memoirs, and novels. We have shared interests, Debbie and I, and I can't wait to learn from her at Hooray for Books, in Alexandria, VA, on July 27, 2013. We'll start at 3:30 and end around five. We'll talk about truth and fiction and the lines in between, focusing on the four books I feature here—Handling the Truth (its first appearance in any store), The Year of Goodbyes (the winner of many awards), Small Damages (the first time I'll see its paperback self in any store), and Imperfect Spiral (just released). Debbie and I will both read—briefly—from each book, discuss its creation, and then share thoughts on workshopping truth and fiction. We each have an in-store exercise for those who'd like to try their hands at a bit of writing—and to hear our thoughts about their work.

I'm looking forward to meeting Debbie, to spending time at Hooray for Books, and to finally giving Deborah Yarborough a hug—for it is because of Deborah's sweet invitation that I will be there in the first place (and person).

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Small Damages Paperback: the gorgeous stepback

Sometimes you write books and love those books and they disappear. Sometimes they're never published. Sometimes the person who doesn't love your book is precisely who you thought you were writing your book for.

And sometimes you get so hugely lucky. You find an editor (and friend) like Tamra Tuller and a house like Philomel, a publicist like Jessica Shoffel and a friend like Michael Green. And then (you can't believe your continuing luck) you get a paperback team like Eileen Kreit and Krista Asadorian, who package the book with great grace.

Small Damages will be released by Penguin as a paperback on July 11th, and include this gorgeous stepback page. I am so grateful. I'll be launching the paperback in Old Town Alexandria, VA, and would love to see you there.

New News: Small Damages has been named a 2013 Carolyn W. Field Honor Book by the Pennsylvania Library Association.

July 27, 2013, 3:30 - 5:00 PM
Launching Small Damages paperback/Memoir Workshop
with Debbie Levy
Hooray for Books
Old Town Alexandria, VA 

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headed to California and other bookish events

Friends of this blog know how much I love California—the sun, the ocean cliffs, the people. I was so happy, therefore, to be invited to conduct a memoir workshop at the great BookPassage in Corte Madera. I'll be out there in early September, and I'd love to see you there. The details are here, below, along with a few other events that have cropped up in the meantime—events that will touch on everything from Small Damages, Dangerous Neighbors, and Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent to memoir writing, Philadelphia, and the boutique marketing communications firm I run.

Please join us if you can.

March 22, 2013, 5 - 7 PMPost-Penn Perspectives Panel
Sweeten Alumni House
University of Pennsylvania
Philadelphia, PA

March 24, 2013, 1 - 4
No-Foolin' Mega-Signing At Books of Wonder
New York, New York
For Details click here.

April 10, 2013, 7 PM
Feature Author Book Club Dinner
Harleysville Books
Harleysville, PA

May 22, 2013, 2 PM 
Strange and Familiar Places in YA Fiction (a panel)
Drexel University Week of Writing
Philadelphia, PA

July 27, 2013, 3:30 - 5:00 PM
 Launching Small Damages paperback/Memoir Workshop
with Debbie Levy
Hooray for Books
Old Town Alexandria, VA

August 6, 2013
Launching Handling the Truth
with a memoir workshop
Free Library of Philadelphia
(details to come)
Philadelphia, PA

September 7, 2013, 10 AM - noon
BookPassage Memoir Workshop
51 Tamal Vista Blvd.
Corte Madera, CA 94925

October 20, 2013
Talking Memoir with Linda Joy Myers @
Rosemont College
(details to come)

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