Landscape, Soul, Story: An Interview, A Review

A few weeks ago, Tamara Smith, the co-creator of Kissing the Earth (you will love this site, when you visit it) wrote to me about landscape. Landscape is central in Tamara's own books, she said, and having read Small Damages for BookBrowse, Tamara sensed that it mattered to me as well.  A conversation ensued—deep and ranging, thanks to Tamara's smart questions—and I am grateful to be able to share the whole here, on Kissing the Earth.

A fragment:

KTE: You told me that, for you, landscape is a character.  It is for me too. Can you explain that a bit here?  Why is this so?  How do you manifest this belief in your work?

BK: Landscape shapes us.  It defines our legs and lungs as we walk through it.  It shapes the way we see, how we define horizons, what seems impossibly far away and what seems gratifyingly or frighteningly near.  Landscape is proximity, and it is distance.  It is another way of measuring time.  And so, in much of my work—the memoirs (especially my book about marriage and El Salvador), the river book, a YA novel that takes place in Juarez, a YA book that takes place in a garden (and Barcelona and Portugal), another YA novel that takes place in Centennial Philadelphia, and of course Small Damages—I am placing my characters down among very specific places and learning how it shapes them.

Tamara, thank you.  The conversation was a privilege.  Kenzie's landscape was inspired by Arenales, the cortijo I visited in southern Spain, among other sites.  I am yearning, deeply, to return.

I was all set to post this link to my conversation with Tamara when that incredibly generous sneak, Serena Agusto-Cox of Savvy Verse & Wit, sent me a late-night email with a link that would not, she said, go live until today. Well.  In my humble opinion, this blogger, wife, mom, and full-time employee (how she does it all, I do not know) has done so much for me and my books that I felt embarrassed to imagine that she had spent the time to read another Kephart book, and to reflect on it.  When I read Serena's review of Small Damages, I felt even more—I don't know the word—for Serena clearly put so much heart and time and thought into her words.  Perhaps she did this at 2 AM, or perhaps she did it on her lunch break.  I don't know when, or how, but Serena, I am grateful. 

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the sweetest Shelf Awareness star for Small Damages

In infinite ways, I am grateful for Jennifer Brown's starred review of Small Damages, which appears today in Shelf Awareness.  Jenny writes of wishing the book would, after it ends, begin again.  I feel the same way about Jenny's review, which I have read over and then again, humbled.

And for which there are not enough thanks.

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the day that was: Melissa Firman, George Shaw, Small Damages, Truth

I began a blogging conversation with Melissa Firman of The Betty and Boo Chronicles so long ago that I can't remember the first prompt, the earliest words.  Melissa and I share many things—proximity (at least until a transfer took her west), friends, a love for our children, a love for books—and the first time I actually met Melissa was on a bitter cold night, when she came to a talk I was giving about the impact of place on my work.  She came bearing books, my own.  She has built, over time, an embarrassingly generous Beth Kephart library.  Even as she does so many things, for so many others, and even as she keeps her Facebook friends abreast of the special people in her life.

And so Melissa's words today, about Small Damages, are the words of one who has read an oeuvre with great care.  They are the words of someone who has carefully, patiently watched my work evolve over time.  Reading Melissa's blog post was, to me, akin to reading a scholarly piece.  I learned so much and became so absorbed in Melissa's thinking that it wasn't until the end that I remembered that she was writing about me.  This post was so exceptional that my publicist, Jessica Shoffel, sent an email earlier:  Making sure you saw this one.

I share Melissa's words at the end of a day of many emotions.  We honored our George Shaw this morning at a beautiful service in which grandchildren read, a son eloquently remembered, and family and friends and neighbors knit tight.  How proud George is, looking down, on his gigantic community.  His son referred to George as an extraordinary ordinary man.  My own son, sitting near me in the pews, said later that that is the best kind of man. 

After the service and lunch I came home to read Handling the Truth one last time, for it is bound for copyediting soon.  I'll never quite forget the note Lauren Marino, my Gotham editor, wrote last night to tell me that we are entering the book's next phase.  Having just sat here today and read all 61,000 words through again, I hope it is all right to say here that I am so at peace with Truth.

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Haloes

The heat was aggressive today.  It knocked the civility out of drivers.  It was implicated in the four accidents I saw and drove the bugs into my ears.  Soupy, swampy, angry, it would not rest until it had exploded (it was quite the sight, it really was) the bottle of Dr. Pepper I had carried with me to the car.  Pssssshhhhh Bang Splat fiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz.  Too bad they don't make interior windshield wipers.

Such sweet things happened, nonetheless.  They may not seem related, but they are.  My friend Heather's baby boy, Ryder, was born at 4:44 PM, a good omen of some sort, I'm sure.  Ryder's going to be loved something fierce by all of us who love Heather, and by Heather herself, so full of love.  Heather's been asking Ryder to come out and play for some time now, and forever now, he will.

All the way across the country, meanwhile, another mother, this one named Danielle, was tending to her two—taking care, listening, watching them tangle and grow.  Danielle, too, is a very special woman, a person whose priorities in life (and gentleness, and dreams) have so much to teach.  Danielle gives everything—to her family, to this book world, to people like me—and the next day she gets up, and somehow does it all again.

Today I was a recipient of Danielle's exceptional gifts.  I was, and I don't know what to say.

When I say that I don't know what to say, I really mean that.  I don't.  Kindnesses like hers cannot be answered.

Simply, then, with gratitude, I share her words here, which I found at just the right time of this tumultuous and yet still beautiful day.

I am sending my love to these two mothers right now.  In a world this hot, in a summer this thick with heat, they teach us how to carry on with dignity and grace.

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Small Damages/School Library Journal Review

My dear friends of Philomel have sent along the School Library Journal review of Small Damages, and I am breathing a sigh of relief.  The pre-launch period of any book is an exercise in measured breathing.

I share the words with you here:

 KEPHART, Beth. Small Damages. 304p. CIP. Philomel. July 2012. Tr $17.99. ISBN 978-0-399-25748-3. LC 2011020947.
Gr 9 Up–Kenzie is 18 and pregnant, much to the embarrassment of her mother and her Yale-bound boyfriend, Kevin. Feeling helpless and alone, she submits to her mother’s plan to keep the mistake hidden by going to stay with friends of friends in Spain for the duration of the pregnancy and giving up the baby to adoptive parents. In a daze, Kenzie finds herself on a dusty bull farm, Los Nietos, hot and lonely, experiencing a lifestyle that is completely different from her former life. But it is in this unknown landscape that the young woman finds the support that she lacks at home. The cranky old cook, Estela, and the mysterious young horseman, Esteban, become the nurturing mother and attentive friend that Kenzie yearns for, and she becomes the kind of person who can take care of herself and her baby. Beautifully told, the characters’ stories are soulful and compelling, and the setting is rich and alive. While the subject matter might seem familiar, even overdone, this story is unexpectedly tender and original, never falling prey to cliché or the trappings of the typical teen problem novel. Or if it does—the moodiness, the somewhat easy resolution—the style is so engaging that the tale is still fulfilling.–Jennifer Miskec, Longwood University, Farmville, VA

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Melissa Sarno on Small Damages

Melissa Sarno (you have heard me speak of Melissa Sarno and her blog, This Too... ) was away, and we missed her.  She was away because she'd married the man she loves and traveled with him to a country I love, and we were happy for her, but we missed her.

She is home now.  She is home bearing gifts—photographs and stories and this most astonishing review of Small Damages, which she read a few days before her wedding.

You can tell, I know you can, that Melissa is a writer, too.  A very special one—her work full of color and empathy and musical sophistication.  Her review contains these words.  They made me cry. 

I think a lot of people would say that it takes courage to embrace who you are. But, I believe, it takes even more courage to walk away from who you are in order to find out who you can be.  To capture that in these few words means they are everything words.  To explore this theme in a book means Small Damages is an everything book.

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Small Damages: the first review, with deep gratitude to My Friend Amy

I was not at home, not with my normal machines, not even with my book of email addresses. 

I was just here.  Being.

And then a message came through on my phone from Serena Agusto-Cox.  She wondered if I had seen My Friend Amy's blog today.  She thought that if I hadn't, I should pay a visit.


I waited until my husband was done with the ancient laptop we had brought along for this short journey.  It crunched and crunched (it takes its time) before the screen filled with Amy's words.  My eyes blurred.  My throat caught.  It took some time for me to read them.

Because.

Because Amy is kinder and dearer to me than I can say.  And her review is more than a review.  Review isn't even the word.  Her review is a gift. 

Yes.  This week is magic.

Thank you, Amy.  For always being there.  For being the first.  For making me lucky.

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