The Thing About Jellyfish/Ali Benjamin: a major new voice for younger readers (for all readers)

When Jessica Shoffel speaks, I listen.

She's the sort of person who makes you feel seen. The sort who, as a Penguin publicist, didn't just oversee the campaigns of mega-watt writers like Laurie Halse Anderson and Jacquelyn Woodson, but also took time to read my novel Small Damages, to tell me how the story worked within her, and to create a glorious press release and campaign on its behalf. The sort who stood with me through a difficult time. The sort who found me alone at the Decatur, GA, book festival and included me in conversations, in a dinner, in a memorable hour with Tomie dePaulo. The sort who makes time in a hugely busy life to reach out to young people who have experienced loss, to run marathon races on behalf of medical research, and to talk to a dear family member, Kelsey, about what it is like to work among books. Jess is smart and gracious and kind and hard working. She is there. She is present. She is with you; she is for you. She is a rare kind of sisterhood.

And so when Jess wrote a few weeks ago to tell me about a book she had just read in her new role as Director of Publicity for Little Brown and Company's Books for Young Readers, when she said it was my kind of book, I didn't for one instant doubt her. Can I send it to you? she asked. Of course, I said.

And so it arrived. And so I have read it.

This book—this gorgeous, intelligent, moving, seamless, award-destined, Andrea Spooner edited book—is a debut middle grade novel by Ali Benjamin called The Thing About Jellyfish. Everything about this story enwraps, engages, enraptures. Its frizzy-haired, science-leaning, universe-scanning narrator who has lost her former best friend. Its obsession with the jellies that bloom incessantly within our seas, leave the big whales hungry, endanger us with their undying stings. Its child-hearted hopes and its big-minded mix of science and mystery. Its neat division into paper parts—purpose, hypothesis, straight through to conclusion. Its language—just the right bright, the right curious. (I could quote from every single line and prove that to you; Ali Benjamin never writes anything less than a wonderful sentence.) The science itself—impeccably (never intrusively) filtered into this story about friendship, family, school, and school teachers who care.

And then—watch—Diana Nyad appears. Diana Nyad, the endurance swimmer who refused to give up on her dream. The endurance swimmer who braved the countless jellyfish stings and made it to the other side. Symbol, hero, character. There she is, in this most exquisite book.

(For more on Diana and her relationship with my friend and agent Amy Rennert, read here. And look for Diana's much buzzed memoir, Find a Way, out in October).

In this summer of contemplation, this summer of weighing the odds, of wondering through the writing again, of maybe or maybe not trying again, of not knowing, it is a glorious thing to be reminded of what is possible with books. The thing about The Thing About is what says about what possible is.

Read more...

The Impossible Knife of Memory/Laurie Halse Anderson: Reflections

I respect young adult authors who:

* take a stand
* remain engaged
* recognize the sublime intelligence of teens
* believe that stories written for younger readers have a responsibility to do more than simply pass the time
* understand that there are few things more powerful than books that intelligently address the real stuff that goes down in private corners of the world

All of which is to say that I respect Laurie Halse Anderson. She is versatile—writing historical novels and contemporary novels, sequels and stand-alone tales. She is, as well, there for her legions of readers—real, centered, and ever-vigilant. And she doesn't, from what I can tell, believe in easy. Her tales are many-layered, never squeamish, planfully raw.

The Impossible Knife of Memory, due out from Viking in January,  was sent to me by dear Jessica Shoffel, with whom I had worked on Small Damages. Jess's enthusiasm for this novel is tremendous, and I understand why, for at its heart lie concerns about post-traumatic stress disorder, child responsibilities for unwell parents, the impact of war on families, the impact of repressed memories, and the impact of kind, tall, skinny boys who actually do want to be what and whom they believe good men should be, which is to say protective, patient, and often selfless.

Hayley Kincain is spending her senior year in one run-down house (as opposed to the truck her dad has been driving around), in high school (as opposed to the independent study she's been used to), and in the company of a handful of newish friends (as opposed to essentially alone). It's a lot of new to deal with, and there's a backdrop of trouble—her dad's psychological trauma following a few turns of war duty, her missing mom, her seemingly unreliable almost step-mother, and her own eruptive memories of childhood traumas and losses. Hayley's unhappiness is palpable. It is relieved, in places, by this new boy named Finn. It returns as the world encroaches and threatens. It forces Hayley to finally look deep within herself.

Despite the dark material, there's humor here—the kind of sly, sarcastic rat-a-tat that goes on between bright kids in trying circumstances. Finn is about as perfect as a young man can be, and as Hayley warms to him she finds the brightest places within herself—puts to best use her intelligence and heart. The snapshots of war as presented through the father's italicized memories are shocking and also shockingly beautifully wrought. There, we say as we read, is what it must be like to go to war, to return from war, to find war inside one's dreams.

The Impossible Knife of Memory is searing, in its way. It is important, in Laurie Halse Anderson's inimitable way.

Read more...

Jessica Shoffel Runs the NYC Marathon, in honor of those she loves

I cannot count the number of times I have said, to someone, I love Jessica Shoffel. We met through her extraordinary work as a Penguin publicist, upon the release of Small Damages.

She wrote a letter for that book that was perfection.

She stayed true to this quiet, little book as it found its right home in review after review.

We have remained dear friends through every transition.

We spent hours together in Decatur, GA—talking life, talking dreams—and it is because of Jess that I one day received a handwritten note from Tomie dePaola.

She is a radiating beauty—intelligent and kind, wise beyond her years, as equally devoted to a small author like myself as she is to the big names she illuminates (Tomie, for one, but also, at this very moment, Laurie Halse Anderson)—and here she is, moments after running the New York City marathon, standing with her mom, Joanne Shoffel.

Jess, I asked her just now, do you mind if I put your photo on my blog? She said I could. I cried a little, because it's about time that I get to share this beautiful young lady with you.

Jess says, and I quote:

"... it was a great moment because I ran with the American Cancer Society DetermiNation team in memory of my dad, Stan Shoffel, and my best friend’s dad, Tom Leo. My dad passed when I was a teenager. Mr. Leo was like a father to me when I went away to college and was far from family. He passed away in the spring."

Read more...

Tomie dePaola, Stacey D'Erasmo, Jessica Shoffel, Doni Kay, Little Shop, Decatur: Best Book Festival Ever

I left the house at 4:30 AM on Friday morning and arrived at the Courtyard Marriott of Decatur, GA, six or so hours later. As if elves had been working behind the scenes, there stood Jessica Shoffel, the Philomel publicist about whom I so often gush, Doni Kay, a tremendous Philomel sales associate who was a huge supporter of Small Damages, and Gennifer Choldenko, the Newbery Honor winner. Three gorgeous women, just standing there. The start of something great.

I was there on behalf of Handling the Truth, but Jess and Doni immediately took me under their wings, walking the town with me, sitting down at lunch with me, and finding, with me, a copy of Small Damages in the window of The Little Shop of Stories. We stepped inside this amazing store, and at once I was embraced by the shopkeepers, who had been warned of my coming by no other than Judy Schachner, whose image graces the wall of the Philadelphia International Airport (I had snapped the picture at dawn that morning) and whose beauty I was just writing about the other day. They had been told, by Judy, to take good care of me, and oh did they. They were like family, from the start. Diane Capriola (shown above with her daughter, watching Tomie draw), you run an exquisite enterprise. Thank you for your graciousness toward me.

I went off on my day. Heard Clyde Edgerton, that southern raconteur, speak about his writing life. Conducted a memoir workshop on the Agnes Scott campus with an incredible group of writers. Found a text from Jess inviting me to spend the evening with the Penguin crowd—and I did. Walked up the stairs at The Little Shop of Stories and met none other than Tomie dePaola, whose books I had collected through the years and read to my son—perennial favorites. He was drawing an image for The Little Shop. He was telling stories, signing his new book. And then we went off to dinner, a handful of us, to hear more about Tomie's life in mid-century America. DJ MacHale was in the house—the uber bestseller of the Pendragon series, author of the newly released Sylo (the critics say no one does suspense like MacHale does suspense), and a complete class act. So was Nancy Krulik, another children's book star with a massive following. I wasn't really sure what I was doing there among the super stars of the children's book world, but I allowed myself the happiness.

Back in my room I prepared for the day to come—a conversation I have long anticipated with Stacey D'Erasmo. Someday soon I will write here about her brilliant (!) novel, A Seahorse Year. I have already written about her super smart writing book, The Art of Intimacy and I will be the first in line when her new novel debuts next May. I cannot tell you what a privilege it was to spend an hour with Stacey before our talk, to walk to the Courthouse stage at her side, and finally to sit in a beautiful room to talk about uncertainty, memoir, intimacy, process. What a crowd we had. What a day it was.

I'm back home now. In a few days I'll leave for San Francisco. Will see my dear editor Tamra Tuller and the Chronicle team, then plunge into all kinds of Handling loveliness.

I plan to spend today watching movies. But right now, this minute, I want to thank all the people who made Decatur so fantastic. I'll never forget it. It's one hell of a town. Beth Parker and Gina Chung, of Gotham, thank you for making my trip there possible.

Read more...

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.

Read more...

Small Damages: it's paperback pub day!

The very great Jessica Shoffel sent me this copy of Small Damages, delivered on the day of the book's paperback release by the Penguin imprint, Speak.

It's a beautiful package, this book. Ever since Tamra Tuller acquired this story for Philomel, it has been given extraordinarily good care—through editing and copy editing, through design and publicity, through its transformation as a paperback.

I placed my implicit trust in Tamra, Michael Green, Jessica Shoffel, and the sales team, and I was never given a reason to doubt. When Eileen Kreit and her team assumed responsibility for the paperback, I was equally at ease.

So much can go wrong in the publication of a book. Nothing went wrong with this one. I am so proud and happy to have my first paperback (with the stepback!) copy of Small Damages in hand. And I will be grateful, always.

Read more...

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 

Read more...

What is the what in publishing? How funny is Anne Lamott? And Alyson Hagy: thank you.

New York City was at its hospitable best yesterday.  Through the windows of a train I watched the sun both rise and set on Manhattan.  In between I opined on the future of YA at the Publishing Perspectives Conference, saw old friends (Rahna Reiko Rizzuto, Jennifer Brown, Laura Geringer, Melissa Sarno, Dennis Abrams, Ed Nawotka), made new ones, did a little Amen shout as Doris Janhsen, David Levithan, Francine Lucidon, Eliot Schrefer, and Dennis Abrams (pictured above), reminded people what publishing is really about, or should be about:  good books.  By mid-afternoon, I was sitting with the remarkable team at Gotham, discussing the future of Handling the Truth.  I was thinking—truth—how lucky I am.  (Then got even luckier sneaking in a little stolen time with Jessica Shoffel of Philomel and my own son, at 30th Street Station.)

It took every bit of driving craftswomanship I have (and there isn't much) to get to Anne Lamott's talk (and promotion of her new book on prayer, Help Thanks Wow) at Bryn Mawr Presbyterian Church by the 7:30 start.  My father had saved a seat for me in the balcony, and a lucky thing that was, for there were at least 1,000 people gathered in this church where I grew up, wed, and baptized my son.  Anne does what I cannot do.  Talks without a plan ("I have prepared nothing," she began), works her way toward a theme, gets grace right out there, where it belongs, and triggers a bout of group hysteria with a single word (Okay) and a prop (my father's pen).

And so we laughed.  And so it was ten before I finally got home, after a day that had begun at 3 AM.  The mail had been brought in.  There was a card, the smart, precise handwriting of an amazing writer whom I love.  Alyson Hagy, you of the million things to do, you of the bad bronchitis, Good Lord, girl, you didn't have to.  But I love this from you.  I will treasure it, always.

Read more...

Tomorrow: A Day so Full, so Rich

5:26 AM Train to Philadelphia

6:30 AM Train to NYC

8:30 AM Pre-conference conversations with my dear friends Jennifer Brown (our nation's ambassador for children's books), Laura Geringer (editor of five of my YA books), Rahna Reiko Rizzuto (a very dear friend with whom I have strolled so much of New York (and Central Park)), and Melissa Sarno (the fab blogger at This, Too, and the brain child behind the title of Handling the Truth). I'll also have the great pleasure of seeing, again, Ed Nawotka and Dennis Abrams of Publishing Perspectives and, later, Eliot Schrefer. 

9:30 AM Lamp Lighters and Seed Sowers:  Tomorrow's YA/
Publishing Perspectives Conference, Keynote Address, Scholastic Building, New York City

10:30 AM: Drawing the Line: What's the Difference Between a YA and an Adult Book?/
Publishing Perspectives Conference Panel, with Andrew Losowsky, Books Editor, Huffington Post, Aimee Friedman, Senior Editor, Scholastic Trade, Elizabeth Perle, Editor, Huffington Post Youth Network, and Dan Weiss, Editor-at-large, St. Martin's Press

2:00 PM  Marketing meeting with the very good people of Gotham/Penguin (launching Handling the Truth next August)

3:15ish PM  Grabbing a hug from the one and only Jessica Shoffel of Philomel/Penguin (who took such good care of Small Damages)

4:40 PM Train from NYC to Philly, second train from Philly to Bryn Mawr in time to see...

7:30 PM  Anne Lamott, speaking at Bryn Mawr Presbyterian Church, where I will be joined by Deacon Supreme, my own father, Horace Kephart

I will do nothing on Thursday, or almost nothing.  But tomorrow, I will leap, headlong.

Read more...

Remembering Ghosts in the Garden (with a huge thank you to Ed Goldberg) and Small Damages

I had only just returned from Florence and was still adjusting to the hours and the lack of pasta when Ed Goldberg, now a long-time friend, read my fifth book, Ghosts in the Garden, and shared his thoughts on his blog, Two Heads Together.  Ed is the kind of guy who never shouts and will not boast and does not stomp his feet or pop his bubble gum to get attention.  Only yesterday did he whisper in my ear:  Beth, I read that book.

And so he did, reinvigorating for me, in his thoughtful, surprising way, a book I wrote when I fully believed I was writing my last.  Writing is hard on the psyche—not making the books (I am dangerously addicted to the making of books), but living with them when they are out in the world.  They're not going to please everyone, nor should they.  Some will say that kindly, some will say it cruelly, some may veer from the truth, some may hurt people you love. You have to live with that, when you write books, and in writing Ghosts, I felt myself fading, vanishing toward another life, searching for another art to believe in. 

That was too many books ago, but it was a time I remember well and a feeling to which I often return. Ghosts in the Garden is a wandering, wondering book. I remain a wanderer and a wonderer, never precisely sure.

Just as Ed whispered in my ear yesterday, Jessica Shoffel, my beloved Philomel publicist, wrote to share the news that The Repository, a newspaper out of Canton, OH, had celebrated Small Damages as a novel "Worth Your Time."  Michael Green, Philomel's head honcho, wrote something Michael-ishly funny, after that.  But we're not telling.  Not a chance.   

Read more...

The Fab Five (I feel like a Rock Star)

Today, another short note, a simple reminder:

I have the great privilege of joining David Levithan, Ellen Hopkins, Eliot Schrefer, and Jennifer Hubbard this coming Friday, 7 PM, at Children's Book World in Haverford, PA.  CBW is billing us as the Fab Five, and I have Philomel publicist (every author's dream publicist and my good friend) Jessica Shoffel to thank for making me Feel So Fab.

I hope that you will join us. The photograph above was taken during the Publishing Perspectives "What Makes a Children's Book Great?" conference held earlier this summer, where I had so much fun joining moderator Dennis Abrams on the author panel.  The smart and savvy notables from left to right are Roger Sutton (The Horn Book), Pamela Paul (New York Times), David Levithan (Scholastic editor and author phenom), and my good friend Jennifer Brown, a former school teacher, editor, reviewer, and jury panelist (not to mention head of children's books for Shelf Awareness) whom I always rightly refer to as this country's ambassador for children's books. 

Read more...

A.S. King, Jennifer Hubbard, and I Pose with a Mystery Man

Plenty of wild things happened at Skyanne Fisher's PAYA Festival today.  A.S. King hand sold Beth Kephart books, because somebody had to.  Beth Kephart signed her books with A.S. King's name, because every tit deserves a tat.  Kate Walton looked gorgeous (nothing wild about that one, happens all the time).  Skyanne spoke of traveling to humdrum places like Ghana (Sure, Ghana.  Of course, Ghana.  Who doesn't yawn at Ghana?)  Elisa Ludwig showed up in a dress Beth Kephart wanted but Elisa (oddly) wouldn't give it to Beth.  Ilene Wong revealed deep secrets.  Margie Gelbwasser was adorable.  Heather of Children's Book World talked about how much she loves Jessica Shoffel (My Jessica Shoffel? I said.  My.  Very.  Own??)  And Beth Kephart got to sit beside the beloved Jennifer Hubbard, a full month shy of her Children's Book World event with Jennifer, David Levithan, and Ellen Hopkins.

And as if that were not enough?  There stood this delightful man.  Okay, so he could have used a little meat on his bones.  Sure, his hat wasn't as vintage as I'd have liked.  He was also (sorry!) on the tad short side.  But he was upright, strong, and he had a spine, and he could hold his own around three majestic authoresses.  Jennifer, A.S., and I fought over him—with the best vocabulary in the land, I can assure you.  Then he—not defeated, but slightly bored—suggested that we share.

We're big girls now.  Adults.  We did.

Thank you, Skyanne and PAYA!

Read more...

Joining David Levithan, Ellen Hopkins, and Jennifer Hubbard at Children's Book World, September 21

This past May I had the privilege of participating in the uber-fine Publishing Perspectives Conference, What Makes a Children's Book Great?  One expert panel featured Roger Sutton (The Horn Book), Pamela Paul (The New York Times), and David Levithan (Scholastic editor and beloved author) in a conversation hosted by the fantastic Jennifer Brown (Shelf Awareness).  I sat in the audience admiring those four—their wit, their knowing, their bookly stature.

Today I learned from the pretty darned perfect Jessica Shoffel at Philomel that I'll be joining David Levithan, Ellen Hopkins, and Jennifer Hubbard at Children's Book World in Haverford, PA for a panel/signing.  The date is September 21.  The time is 7 PM.  I'd love to see you there.

Read more...

Small Damages: The New York Journal of Books Review

This late afternoon I extend my deep gratitude to Renee Fountain, for her thoughtful review of Small Damages in the New York Journal of Books.

I am honored to be in those pages.  I am grateful to Renee for her understanding of Kenzie and of Kenzie's love for her unborn baby.  Perhaps, as I told a friend not long ago, I was aching to write about maternal love when Kenzie stepped into my life.  Perhaps I miss those early mothering years.  It means so much when a reader makes room for the emotions I had as I wrote.

The review is sub-titled with the words below.  The whole can be found here. 

“Realistic . . . rendered in a quiet prose that speaks volumes.”

Thank you, Jess Shoffel, for letting me know.   

Read more...

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.

Read more...

In Leavittville: A Small Damages Conversation (and my love for Philomel)

I wanted to find a pair of cowgirl boots for my friend Caroline Leavitt, to thank her for making room for me on her roost today, but the best I could do was this sign, photographed in Nashville four years ago, which sat (you'll have to believe me) right near a cowboy/cowgirl boot store.  Why I didn't think to photograph the boots themselves is beyond me.  What is not beyond me, at this moment, is gratitude.  For Caroline's friendship.  For her own talent.  For conversations we have had in public and in private as we both journey through this writing life.  I don't even know how Caroline got an early copy of Small Damages, but she had one.  She's in the midst of writing a brand new book, and she made time to read it.  Then she asked me excellent questions, the kind of questions one who knows another well can ask.  I answered them all here.

Among the things we discussed is how much I love Philomel, and how I made my way to this great place to begin with.  I extract a small fraction of our conversation below, but hope you will visit Leavittville for more.

Philomel is exquisite.  At Philomel I have a home.  There I have never felt like a fringe writer, a secondary writer, a marginal, will-she-please-fit-a-category, we’ll-get-to-you-when-we-get-to-you writer.  Michael Green, Philomel’s president, is a most generous person, and correspondent.  Tamra—beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, embracing—approached the editing of this book, the design of its cover, and the preparation of it for the world with the greatest care, and in the process we became great friends.  Jessica Shoffel, a wildly wonderful and innovative publicist, wrote me a note I’ll never forget after she read the book and her devotion to getting the word out has been unflagging, sensational.  The sales team got in touch a long time ago and has stayed in touch.  And on and on.  

But no, I never knew I would shine.  I don’t think of myself as a diamond or a star.  I never think in those terms.  I just keep writing my heart out.  And when you are collaborating with a house like Philomel, when you are given room, when your questions are answered, when you are given a chance, there are possibilities.

Read more...

two birthdays: a son's, a book's

The most important thing about this day is that it marks my son's twenty-third birthday.  He came into the world after thirty-six hours of labor.  He had a full head of thick, black hair.  He reached for my husband's finger and squeezed it tight.  The next day, we drove him to my mother's house in a beat-up Ford Mustang—his hat still on despite the July heat.

There's no accounting for a mother's love.  There's no math that will contain it.  The baby became a boy became a kid became a man—so bright, so inventive, so funny, so adventuresome, so thoughtful, and with a raft of terrific friends, and with a future that seems (thanks to some recent interviews) so close and within reach, and with a talent for loving.

That boy traveled to Spain with me and my husband, several times, to visit my brother-in-law.  We together met characters like an old man named Luis, and like a count who raised Spain's prized fighting bulls.  We traveled out to a broad cortijo, watched the gypsies dance, sat front row at flamenco shows.  We ate paella at midnight on the streets, tapas in tiny bars.  We went in and out of bull rings and up cathedral towers and in between the narrow spaces of Seville.  We watched the nuns flutter by.  We saw children playing on rooftops.  And when I started to write a novel with all of this as the backdrop, this son of mine listened to me read out loud—this passage or that at the kitchen table.  He steered the ship with his spare comments and would not let me give up in the face of grave disappointments.  He said, "Believe in yourself."

I don't think there would be a Small Damages without this guy, and that brings us to birthday number two.  Small Damages, a book that has always been dedicated to my son, is being launched today.  That it is a book, that it has come this far, is all thanks to the extremely extraordinary Tamra Tuller, Michael Green, Jessica Shoffel, and Jill Santopolo of Philomel. That it has been welcomed into this world is all thanks to the generosity of readers and bloggers and reviewers and interviewers, whose goodness is unfathomable and restorative and redeeming and proof that maybe a girl can write and write and write and not be especially famous, but keep writing, and then have a moment in time like this one.

An unforgettable moment in time.

To all of you, and to my agent Amy Rennert, who has been there through all fourteen books, thick and thin (and so much thin), thank you.

Cake is now being served for all.

The icing is here, in these words from the great (truly great) Pam van Hylckama of Bookalicious.org and in this kindness from the ever-kind and supportive Serena Agusto-Cox.

From Pam:

It is not often that a book that makes you lose your breath. You read novel that makes you want to stand on top of a building and read the prose aloud to those walking below. Words that make you feel human and humble in the most gorgeous way.

If I could read Small Damages over and over again just like it was the first time I would never read another book again. This post is less of a review and more of a plea. Please go to your bookstore, or your library and bring this book home. Make yourself a glass of iced tea and sit in the sun and imagine that you too are in Spain and imagine the scents of Seville all around you while you read.

Read more...

The So-Generous BookPage Interview

Not long ago I sat in a local coffee shop with a young woman who dazzled.  Yes, that's the word.  She'd found her way to the very beating heart of the publishing world as a young Vanderbilt graduate, moved from the Big Apple to the south to work as the BookPage fiction editor, and today works as a content manager for a suburban Philadelphia brand consulting firm, writing features and reviews for BookPage on the side.  Beyond us, the little town of Wayne was having an outdoor festival.  Between us, the talk was books and work.  I adored her within seconds.  She asked smart questions.  She listened.

Abby Plesser (for that is this wunderkind's name) had been asked to interview me for a BookPage feature.  I could not have been a luckier soul.  The conversation alone would have been enough.  The consequent story is more capacious, more generous than anything I could ever deserve.  The piece ends with these words, below.  The whole can found here.

Abby and BookPage, thank you.  Jessica Shoffel, thank you (for everything).

No matter the audience, there is
one thing Kephart hopes readers
take away from her novel: not to
judge others. Of her protagonist, she
says, “Kenzie is very loving, intelligent,
moral. She is in a situation. I
think no less of her and I don’t want
my readers to think any less of her.”
Kephart speaks with such compassion
for her characters and such
passion for her work that it’s hard
not to be inspired by such an unassuming,
accomplished woman. Of
her career, she reflects, “I never want
to look back and say, ‘Well, my best
book was my first one or my fifth or
my seventh,’ so I’m highly motivated
to not just slide. I try to break form
or go to a new place in the world
or tell a story that hasn’t been told
before. I’m invested in challenging
myself and going to the verge or taking
the risk.”

Small Damages is a book well
worth the risk. Kephart has created a
lyrical, beautiful story about a young
woman at a turning point, struggling
to reconcile her choices, find
her place in the world and discover
the true meaning of family.

Read more...

Jen Ryland, YA Romantics, and Small Damages

It doesn't matter how many books you've written or reviews you've read; breath holding is a writerly prerequisite.  You wait.  You worry.  You otherwise distract yourself.  And then your sweet Philomel publicist, Jess, sends you a link to something that she thinks you would perhaps like to see.

Goodness.  It was nice to see this—a review from the hugely popular Jen Ryland of YA Romantics, who received an early copy of Small Damages in an ARC trade and blessed me with the generosity of her good opinion. 

It's a wonderful review.  I'm very lucky.  I love that Jen loves my cranky Estela (I worked with her for a decade or more until I got her just right).  I love, in particular, Jen's final words.  The whole review is here.  I tease you with its close: 

Sometimes I think reading so much makes me jaded. I open new books thinking: "yeah, book, how are you going to impress me?" This book didn't employ a single gimmick -- no razzle-dazzle premise or jaw-dropping plot twists or other trendy literary pyrotechnics.  It just told a story, movingly and beautifully. I highly recommend it!

Read more...

Family Circle and Small Damages (blessed)

A long time ago I drew the conclusion that I was luckier than any girl had the right to be.

Today, proof absolute with these heart-expanding words from Family Circle Executive Editor Darcy Jacobs.  She uses them to recommend Small Damages to her associate editor, Celia, in the August issue of the magazine. Darcy's goodness to me is unparalleled.  I don't have the words.

A million thanks to Jessica Shoffel at Philomel, who does her job so exquisitely well, and to Tamra Tuller, who chose to read my book when it arrived at the old slush pile two years ago.  What an adventure we have had since then.

Kephart is a linguistic Midas—everything she puts to paper is golden, including this gem.

Read more...