the One Thing Stolen surprise at Radnor Memorial Library

Some things aren't surprising when I am hosted by the Radnor Memorial Library. How gracious Pamela Sedor forever is. How delicious (and pretty) is that cake. How kind my friends, husband, and father are. I hope my gratitude is felt and known. I am fully aware of how precious time is, and what it means when time is set aside to support another's floating dreams.

But last night, after photographs and stories of this regional home were shared, after I read from One Thing Stolen, after I shared the opening pages of This Is the Story of You (and gave a copy to Lucky Number 9)—after all that, when I was signing books, I turned over a copy of One Thing Stolen and saw a new cover staring out at me. The formerly black title had turned red (and glossy). There were A.S. King words over my name. The back cover was different, too.

What had happened here?

A little detective work with Annie and Pam as the night wound down, and I learned this: One Thing Stolen has gone into a second printing and Chronicle Books has taken the time to dress the book up newly—new color, Amy's words. It's like those wondrous moments when I come in from a very long day and discover folded laundry on the kitchen table, the work of a secret elf. This thing had been done, quietly done, and there was my gratitude again.

So many, many thanks to Pam and Annie of Radnor, to my friends who came, to the ladies of the Wayne Art Center (oh we, the Hidden Gems), to Kelly, Cyndi, Marie, Tom, Hilary, Bill, another Bill, and Dad, and to Temple University Press, which gave me Love: A Philadelphia Affair and Chronicle Books, which gave me a second printing of One Thing Stolen as well as the gorgeous cover and packaging (and Taylor, thank you for caring so much, you read it again and then again with dedication; you kept asking; you kept pressing; I am grateful; we've made it all right at last) of This Is the Story of You.

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Library Journal reviews LOVE (and new upcoming events)

I am grateful today for the lovely Library Journal review of LOVE: A Philadelphia Affair, which so aptly captures the spirit of the book (and our city). Thanks to Gary Kramer for sending it my way.

Kephart, Beth. Love: A Philadelphia Affair. Temple Univ. 2015. 140p. photos. ISBN 9781439913154. $24.50. TRAV
philadelphia101615The tourism promotion motto of the Philadelphia region is “the place that loves you back.” This aptly named collection based on Philadelphia Inquirer columns is a resident’s love song to the city and its suburbs. Kephart has written on the region before in Flow, her wonderful book on Philadelphia’s iconic Schuykill River. Here she waxes poetic about some of the city’s famous landmarks, such as Reading Terminal Market and 30th Street Station. The author also conjures up the less-well-known Woodlands Cemetery and the suburb of Glenside. She particularizes places on specific dates with specific sunlight. This isn’t a tourist’s book in the sense that a visitor is going to find practical information about where to go. Rather it is an evocation of what Philadelphia is like through the pen of a gifted writer. So the native will find memories stirred and the tourist will be stimulated to visit. It is also somewhat autobiographical. For example, the author writes about Locust Walk at the heart of the University of Pennsylvania based on her college years.

Verdict Kephart has written in many genres, from young adult fiction to poetry; here she adds another excellent nonfiction book for the general reader. Recommended.—David Azzolina, Univ. of Pennsylvania Libs., Philadelphia

I share this review along with a list of upcoming events. No two are the same. Most are open to the public. 

This coming Tuesday night, for example, I'll be at Radnor Memorial Library sharing dozens of photographs of Devon, Wayne, Valley Forge National Park, Ardmore, and the surrounding areas—and talking about the passions that have erupted in me (gardening, dance, pottery, horses), thanks to my living right here. 

Next Saturday I'll be at BookFest @ Bank Street in NYC, talking about narrative risk on a glorious panel moderated by Kirkus's Vicky Smith. I'll be back here on Sunday, to sign books at Main Point Books in Bryn Mawr.

On November 5, I'll be at the Ambler Theater, reflecting on Philadelphia as an artistic canvas, as part of the Upper Dublin/Wissahickon Valley Public Library's second-annual "Let's Discuss It" program. 

On November 7, I'll be down on the Penn campus, interviewing Buzz Bissinger, for Penn's Homecoming. 

And then a memoir workshop at Book Garden in Frenchtown, NJ, talks in an area school, the November Book Club Happy Hour in Harleysville (sign up soon), and a series of in-store signings to close out the year.

I hope to see you along the way.

October 20, 2015, 7:30 p.m.
Radnor Memorial Library
A Celebration of One Thing Stolen
and Love: A Philadelphia Affair
114 W. Wayne Avenue
Wayne, PA 19087
Details here.
(open to public)

October 21, 2015
The Cultural Series at Kennedy House
1901 JFK Boulevard
Philadelphia, PA
(private event)

October 24, 2015
Panelist
BookFest @ Bank Street
Bank Street College of Education
610 West 112th Street
New York, NY 
Details here.
(registration required)

October 25, 2015, 4 p.m.
Love: A Philadelphia Affair signing
Main Point Books
1041 W. Lancaster Avenue
Bryn Mawr, PA
(open to public)

November 1, 2015, 2:00 PM
LOVE and FLOW
Women for Greater Philadelphia
Laurel Hill Mansion
Philadelphia, PA
(private event)

November 5, 2015, 7:30 PM
LOVE is the Upper Dublin/Wissahickon Valley Library 
Let's Discuss It Pick. 
Ambler Theater. 
Details here.

November 7, 2015, 4 PM
Homecoming Weekend/Penn
Penn alum (and students), come join Kelly Writers House and me as we host Buzz Bissinger. Buzz and I will be talking about the art of teaching and about his new preface to his famed Friday Night Lights.Kelly Writers House | 3805 Locust Walk | Arts Café
RSVP: whhomecoming@writing.upenn.edu or call (215) 746-poem

November 15, 2015
Memoir Workshop
In-store reception
The Rat
Organized by The Book Garden
Frenchtown, NJ
Details here. (registration required)

November 16, 2015
LOVE, TRUTH, and GOING OVER
Frenchtown, NJ-area high school
(private events)

November 19, 2015, 7 PM
November Book Club Happy Hour
Harleysville Book Store
Harleysville, PA
Details here.
 
December 3, 2015, 7 PM
LOVE signing
Chester County Books
West Chester, PA
(open to public)

December 5, 2015, noon
LOVE signing
Barnes and Noble
Devon, PA
(open to public)

December 10, 2015, 12 - 2PM
Barnes & Noble signing
Rittenhouse Square
Philadelphia, PA

December 12, 2015, 2 PM
In-store signing
LOVE, etc.
Big Blue Marble Bookstore
551 Carpenter Lane
Philadelphia, PA
Germantown, PA

March 1, 2016, 6:00 PM
Beltran Family Teaching Award Event
Featuring A.S. King, Margo Rabb, Rahna Reiko Rizzuto,
Penn students, and moi
Kelly Writers House
University of Pennsylvania
Philadelphia, PA
(open to public)

April 16, 2016
Little Flower Teen Writing Festival
Keynote Speaker
Little Flower Catholic High School for Teens
Philadelphia, PA

May 22, 2016
Open Book Memoir Retreat, with Daniel TordayWhitpain Farm
Blue Bell, PA
Details here.

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Talking about our home, at Radnor Memorial Library

The extremely dear Pamela Sedor has invited me back to the Radnor Memorial Library to talk about my 2015 books, LOVE: A PHILADELPHIA AFFAIR and ONE THING STOLEN. Pam is lovely, that space is kind, and there will be cake.

I'll be reflecting on places familiar to many of you—Darby-Paoli Road, the Devon Horse Show, the Wayne Art Center, DanceSport Academy in Ardmore, the gardens of Chanticleer, the bells of Valley Forge. I'll be listening for your own stories. And I'll be showcasing some 139 photographs of this area, Philadelphia, and beyond.

I hope that you can join us.


Tuesday, October 20
7:30 PM
Radnor Memorial Library, Winsor Room
Wayne, PA

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Launching LOVE at the Free Library of Philadelphia, Radnor Memorial Library, and Main Point Books

Love will be available in September from Temple University Press, in time for the Pope's Love is Our Mission visit to Philadelphia. I'll be launching the book officially at the Free Library of Philadelphia on October 7, then celebrating again at Radnor Memorial Library and Main Point Books.

It would make me happy to see you. 

Look for my story this weekend in the Philadelphia Inquirer's special Papal Visit issue.

October 7, 2015, 7:30 p.m.
Launch of Love: A Philadelphia Affair
Free Library of Philadelphia
Benjamin Franklin Parkway
Philadelphia, PA

October 20, 2015, 7:30 p.m.
Radnor Memorial Library
A Celebration of One Thing Stolen
and Love: A Philadelphia Affair
114 W. Wayne Avenue
Wayne, PA 19087

October 25, 2015, 4 p.m.
Love: A Philadelphia Affair signing
Main Point Books
1041 W. Lancaster Avenue
Bryn Mawr, PA

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At Radnor High: A warm welcome, graffiti art and two poems

At Radnor High, for my continuing Wall Talks, I was hosted by the exquisite Michelle Wetzel and Fran Misener and that most fabulous Molly Carroll Newton (of Radnor Memorial Library). There were brownies, pretzels, sandwiches. There were students who had much to say, teachers who made room for the session, a vibrant and vast library world. There was a story about a family member who lost his life in East Berlin because he would not relinquish his bicycle to the guard. There were healthy debates about risks and choices. There were the kinds of conversations that leave a happy buzz inside my head.

The art above is by Fran Misener, one of my hosts for the day. (I so love this.)

The poem below is by Eun-Soo Park, who leads the book club at Radnor High and who had me sign his copy of Going Over for a friend who was off on a field trip that day. She really wanted to meet you, he said. So I think I should give the book to her.  (I so love that.)

Eun-Soo wrote:

The Cost of Freedom

Waiting with words trapped within 
Ready to burst with irrepressible emotion
Unable to make a choice
For fear of stumbling into regret.
Bonds broken, lives at stake,
Stuck with a feeling of stasis.

Time passes.
Every second, a wasted opportunity.
What stops a fleeting rush toward freedom?
The danger, the worry, the risk of death.
But what really hinders the dreams of life
Is believing that one can exist without freedom.

Jake wrote as well. I share his words here as emblematic of many of the wonderful words the students of Radnor High produced during our time together:

The promised land is a distant light,
A chasm, deep and dark.
Too wide to see where it ends
Crossable, but with a steep cost.
The fear of the unknown: the final barrier.

My work with these students is not done. My pleasure is ongoing.

Finally, Ms. Wetzel gave me a gift of air which also turned out to be (surprise) a pair of air-colored earrings. I believe that it was those very earrings that got me through a long ride and a final river talk yesterday. Michelle, you were there with me.

(I so love that.)

Some photographic outtakes.

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despite end-of-the-world quality rain, we had a GOING OVER party

You could say that I have pretty lousy book-launch party luck. Once, for example, a short first printing left us with only a handful of books for the book party. Once we launched the book on the very same night that every available parking space had already been consumed by another event, sending some would-be party goers home.

And then there was last night—24 hours or so into an historic deluge that had drains busted, streets flooded, cars stranded, basements swimming. This was the GOING OVER launch day. My email kept pinging with notes from people who had planned to come but couldn't. Oh dear, I thought. Oh, my. Because who would drive flooded streets in dark, unstopping rain for a book? Who would dare float toward Berlin?

You could say that I have lousy luck, but I'm not going to claim that here. Because the fact is this: despite impossible weather that demanded all variety of rubber foot gear, we had a party. Pam and Molly of Radnor Memorial Library are famous for their generosity, and there they were again—gracious, open-hearted, slicing into that cake. Beside that cake stood the GOING OVER vessel my clay-arts friend, Karen Bernstein, had made.

And in the audience—because we did have an audience—were my father and husband, neighbors of now and a dear neighbor of then, long-time friends, fellow writers, a Berlin scholar and a Berlin traveler, the inimitable Kevin Ferris of the Inquirer, three sweet-and-smart-as-heck Little Flower Catholic High School students (Kathleen, Amber, Julia) and their Sister Kim, and a Radnor High contingent—Rib, Jim, Tom—who had orchestrated a sweet surprise. They look precisely the same as they did those years ago. I could not believe it.

Then there was Heather, that gorgeous young woman featured above, who was the inspiration for Ada in GOING OVER. Her face. Her deep connection to color and life. Some of the secrets she once whispered into my ear while I sat in her hair-salon chair. I love that I can show you who she is, right here. Ada is one of my favorite characters, and Heather is even greater than fiction.

Those who came last night had to brave the weather. They had to decide to leave their homes in a sinking mess of a day and make the drive. Sister Kim and her girls ultimately spent three hours in a car. Soup had to drive the highways. My father had to dodge the flooded potholes. Kevin had to walk a long block in soaking rain.

Everyone had to disregard the police barrier that signaled that, due to excessive rains, the road to the library was closed.

It was not closed. Pam and Molly made sure of that.

(And Children's Book World made sure we had books!)

Afterward, my dear friends Elizabeth Mosier and Kelly Simmons treated me to their glorious selves, their raucous laughter, pizza, white wine. But let's get back to their "glorious selves" part.

Thank you. Everyone. For coming. Thank all of you who would have been there if you could. I really believe in this story, GOING OVER. But more than that, I believe in you.

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rain or shine, we're launching GOING OVER

There's plenty of rain out there, stripping the cherry trees of their pinks, heavying the heads of tulips, flooding the low plateaus of my brief driveway.

But inside all is color as I prepare for the launch of Going Over, my Berlin novel. Karen Bernstein, who surprised me earlier this month with a birthday celebration at the Wayne Art Center, has been at work on this vase for a long time now. She's a clay artist of the highest order. She read the book while it was still in galley form. She studied images of the actual graffiti on the Berlin Wall and made this pot — West Berlin, then East Berlin, 1983.  See that arrow up there? It's symbolic. See those flowers? Incredibly gorgeous. They fight the rain. They elevate my mood. They say love, in so very many ways.

I wish you could meet Karen and see for yourself what a special and uber talented person she is. She is, however, now in a car, headed to NYC, where she will meet Diane Keaton (whom I love so much that I celebrated her in Handling the Truth) at the 92nd Street Y. Karen has a lot of Diane in her. The two could probably talk forever. If they did, or when they do, Diane K. will be enchanted.

Those of you here, near, those of you able to slip out with all this rain, come join us for cake at Radnor Memorial Library, Winsor Room, 7:30 PM.

Berlin Wall.

Friends.

Family.

A little Springsteen, too. 

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I forget, often, about the words I've left behind

My dear friends Elizabeth Mosier and Chris Mills sent me this photo last night, following their excursion to Radnor Memorial Library.

We writers live in the forest of doubt, or at least this writer does. This photo startled me—this idea of a dear librarian (Pam Sedor) taking the time to locate my books and to place them all on one wall. This idea of a celebration going on while I've been going on elsewhere.

I forget, often, about the words I've left behind. I focus, too often, on what must be done right now, on what isn't done yet.

I neglect to pause. This celebration at Radnor Memorial Library—discovered by friends—is cause for a pause.

We'll be celebrating Going Over at this very Radnor Memorial Library on April 30, 7:30. This will be my only formal reading from the book, and this party is open to all; cake will be served. Please join us.

In the meantime, today, I am celebrating the work of Michael Sokolove and editor Avery Rome at the University of Pennsylvania's Kelly Writers House. My class has read Sokolove's fantastic Drama High. We have questions. We look forward to reflection, to a deep and true conversation.

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We're having a GOING OVER party! (do you want to come?)

And then Pamela Sedor said, she said:

But if there's a book there must be cake!

And I said, Are you sure?

And she said she was sure, very sure.

And so, my friends, there will indeed be a real-live-cake-for-all party for Going Over, the book that is launching on April 1. I invite any of you near and not so far to join us at:

Radnor Memorial Library
Winsor Room
April 30, 7:30 PM
114 W. Wayne Avenue
Wayne, PA 19087

Bring friends. Bring your sugar appetites. We'll talk about the Wall in this, the 25th year since it fell. We'll talk about walls in general—around a world that is suddenly looking a little Cold War grim.

I look forward to seeing you. For those who cannot be there in person, there is a multi-stop blog tour gearing up (thanks to Lara of Chronicle). Book giveaways, interviews, and revelations all on tap. More on that soon.

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How does a book get made? Previewing the Dr. Radway Launch, set for tomorrow evening at Radnor Memorial Library

Tomorrow evening—Tuesday, September 17, 7 PM, Radnor Memorial Library—I will formally launch Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent, a story of 1871 Philadelphia. The tale of William, a poor boy trying to rescue his family, emerged from many years of research and reflection, and I'll piece some of that together through images of then and now. I will, as well, reflect on the sound of Dr. Radway, and how it differs from the sound of its companion Centennial novel, Dangerous Neighbors.

I hope you will join us.

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Launching Dr. Radway at the Radnor Memorial Library. Join us?

Earlier this summer New City Community Press/Temple University Press released a book that means so much to me—Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent. It's a book about poor Philadelphia in 1871, a book about Eastern State Penitentiary, Baldwin Locomotives Works, My River (notice the caps), two best friends, and an heroic blowzy named Pearl. Among other things.

Reviewers have been extremely kind, some of their thoughts here.

I'll be officially launching that book in just a few weeks at Radnor Memorial Library—reading from it for the first time, talking about it for the first time, sharing it, because that's what we do.

I hope you will consider joining us. Huge thanks to Pamela Sedor, who throws a wonderful party.

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humbled, and grateful.

For reasons too complex, too personal to render fully here, yesterday was a day of deep emotion.

There were, however, friends all along the way.  Elizabeth Mosier, the beauty in the dark gray dress, will always stand, in my mind, on either side of the day—at its beginnings, at its very late-night end.  For your mid-day phone kindness, for your breathtaking introduction of me at last night's book launch, for the night on the town, for the talk in the car, for the bounty of your family—Libby, I will always be so grateful. 

To Patti Mallet and her friend, Anne, who drove all the way from Ohio to be part of last night's celebration, I will never forget your gesture of great kindness, your love for green things at Chanticleer, and a certain prayer beside my mother's stone.  Patti and I are there, above, at the pond which inspired two of my books.

To Pam Sedor, the lovely blonde in violet, a world-class Dragon Boat rower recently returned from an international competition in Hong Kong, the librarian who makes books happen and dreams come true, and to Molly, who puts up with my techno anxieties (and who, recently married, has a new last name), and to Radnor Memorial Library, for being my true home—thank you, always.  (And to Children's Book World, for finding us books in time.)

To my friends who came (from church, from books, from architecture, from corporate life, from the early years through now)—thank you.  Among you were Avery Rome, the beautiful red-head who edits Libby, me, and others at the Philadelphia Inquirer, and Kathy Barham, my brilliant and wholly whole son's high school English teacher, who is also a poet (shown here in green).  To the town of Wayne, which received our open-air tears and laughter late into the night (and to Cyndi, Kelly, Libby, Avery, and Kathye who cried and laughed with me)—thank you.

And also, finally, to Heather Mussari—my muse (along with Tamra Tuller) for the Berlin novel, a young lady so wise beyond her years, and a cool, cool chick who (along with Sandy) does my hair—I arrived at 11:15 at your shop inconsolable.  You listened.  You said all the right things by telling the truth and telling it kindly.  I adore you, Heather.  I hope you know that.

After I posted this, my dear friend Kate Walton (who was there with our friend Elisa Ludwig), sent me this link to last night's party.  Kate—whose kindness is so clear in her post—preserved the night for me in photographs.  I will always be grateful.

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The Small Damages party (and a recipe card)

Tonight I'll officially launch Small Damages (Philomel) in my hometown library.  I'll be sharing images of the research process, snapshots of Spain, and a glimpse of my Estela's cortijo kitchen.  I'll also be giving those who come this recipe card, featuring one of Estela's favorite easy desserts.  Now, Estela is Estela, and pears are pears—so many different textures, so many degrees of firm.  You have to mess with temperature and timing, therefore, but if you wait until the pears are truly cooked through, you'll have a sensational little treat on your hands (plumped raisins, Malaga- and orange-flavored pear flesh).

I am looking forward (so much) to this evening.  Among other things, the talented, generous, whollly literary, wholly real and dear Elizabeth Mosier will be introducing me.  I learn so much from Libby, whenever she talks (about books, about anything).  I am so honored that she is taking the time to do this.  And, of course, a giant thank you to Pam Sedor of the library, who makes everything so special, and to the good people of Children's Book World, who always go the extra mile.

Please come if you are near:

September 12, 2012
Radnor Memorial Library

114 West Wayne, Avenue 

Wayne, PA
SMALL DAMAGES launch party
7:30 PM

This just in: I was in the midst of posting this when I learned about this incredibly beautiful librarian review of Small Damages by one Lauren Strohecker.  Lauren's post is made especially meaningful by the way her blog begins—with words about and by my friend A.S. King.  I'm hugely indebted to you both, and a little misty eyed.

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small damages: the food photo essay (in anticipation of the launch party)

And so I realized that my Small Damages launch party (at Radnor Memorial Library, this Wednesday night, 7:30) is but a few days away.  And so I began to tremble.  I hadn't prepared.  I hadn't sat down and thought it through.  I have nearby friends coming, not to mention a certain Patti Mallett, who is making the journey from quite a long way away.  I could not afford to get up there and wing it.

I dedicated this afternoon to making sure that I didn't wing it.

There will, as everybody knows, be cake.

But there will also be a tour of my Estela's kitchen.

Can you guess what this ingredient is?

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Last Week and Next, and the Week After That. Join Me?

One week ago today I was still anticipating the Springsteen concert, still thinking my next book would be based in Siena, still ashamed of the thatchy weeds out by my mailbox, and still holding my breath (just a little) as my son moved into his new home and work opportunity. 

How things change, and how quickly.

I've since danced in Springsteen's dark, booked an apartment (for research) in Florence, tugged (most of) the weeds away, and listened to my son talk, with such confidence and happiness, about his new city and his deepening passions.  I have read books about birds and eggs, teared up at Michelle Obama, been interviewed by two men for separate publications who startled me with their knowledge of my work, navigated unexpected changes in my publishing life, finished an employee newsletter, reached out to friends who were there, and been reminded, over and over again, that love is the most important thing.  Love, and a child's happiness.

This weekend I'm hibernating just a bit as I work my way through the first and second chapters of that now-Florence novel.  I'm going to the movies with my husband (he has promised me a trip to "The Words"). And I'm preparing for the next few weeks.  Please join me, if you can.

September 12, 2012
Radnor Memorial Library, Radnor, PA
SMALL DAMAGES launch party
7:30 PM.  Details here.

September 14, 2012
The Bruce Springsteen/Glory Days Symposium
Monmouth University
Appearing with April Lindner, Jane Satterfield, Ned Balbo, and Ann Michael
Details here.

September 21, 2012
Joining David Levithan, Ellen Hopkins, and Jennifer Hubbard at Children's Book World
7 PM. Details here.

   

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My thoughts on social media and etc. at Philadelphia Stories

Michelle Wittle invited me to share my thoughts about publishing, social media, and cake (well, I threw in the cake part) for her always-informational Philadelphia Stories blog.  I have the great privilege of joining Michelle and others at the annual Philadelphia Stories Push to Publish conference, being held on October 13th at Rosemont College, and I was glad for this excuse to talk to Ms. Wittle again.

Michelle, you want a hug?  You'll get one.

For the whole interview, go here.  A first question answered, below.

Wittle: What do you find are the most helpful tools for a writer in YA to market his or her book? Should they have a blog? A twitter account? Maybe reach out to the local libraries and host a writing and or reading session?

Kephart: I am afraid that I never really think about tools or strategies.  I think about who I want to be in the world—what kind of community I want to live within.  And so I blog as much to exercise my own brain (made stagnant at times by too much corporate work) as to exchange thoughts with readers and writers who inspire me.  I twitter very rarely, and usually it’s to have some comedic relief or to spread word.  I have a book party each time a book comes out at Radnor Memorial Library with the great hostess Pamela Sedor because she is so kind and because friends come (indeed, we are having a party for Small Damages on September 12 at 7:30 at Pam’s fabulous library, should any readers of this interview like to come; there will be cake!).  Mostly, though, I try to participate in the greater literary community.  I write for The New York Times Book Review, Chicago Tribune, Shelf Awareness, Philadelphia Inquirer, Publishing Perspectives, and elsewhere on the state of books and culture and teens, or on places that I love.  And this, I think, keeps me in the mix more than anything.

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The Small Damages Launch Party: Radnor Memorial Library, September 12.

My books are never quite yet real books to me until I get to share them with Pamela Sedor of the Radnor Memorial Library and my own Main Line community.  Pam brings cake.  Pam (a knock-out international-class rower, by the way) orders punch.  Pam dresses in high but somehow still understated fashion, shines like a star, gives me a hug, and I stand up there and read.  I read from a book I have loved, a book I have inevitably struggled with, a book that I do want to share with my friends.  This is my chance to share my book with my friends.

That book, this sweet season after summer, is Small Damages, a book that has been humbled by kindnesses from near and far (beginning with Tamra Tuller's yes, long ago, and fortified by Jessica Shoffel's care).  For more about this book and the journey it has taken since its release on July 19th, please visit this dedicated Small Damages page.

So join us, if you can, on September 12, 7:30 PM, at the Radnor Memorial Library.  The details are here, in this poster Pam and her team created. 

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The DeWitt Henry Evening, in photos and introduction

Radnor High graduates of the class of '59 came out in force last night to welcome DeWitt Henry home.  Pamela Sedor, the ever-young, always-beautiful mistress of the Radnor Memorial Library, did what she does to make the evening seamless.  Elizabeth Mosier and Chris Mills brought Ben Yagoda, Kelly Simmons, Cynthia Reeves, and me to their warm hearth; Kathye Fetsko Petrie brought her most ineffable self. And I was given the honor of introducing a man who has given stories—his own, those of others—a place of permanence. 

This was his evening.

When DeWitt Henry turned 30 years old, he wrote the following in a journal he was keeping:

“I can’t get a job.  I can’t have the things that normal people my age enjoy.  I can’t afford a family.  When I was twenty-five, that was clearly a matter of choice.  I was trying to be an artist, and I could always give up that ambition and still succeed by worldly standards.  But here I am skilled, educated, and living alone on $4,000 where any stiff can make $10,000.”

It’s classic DeWitt.  Self-effacing.  Never murky.  Sentences built of particulates.  It’s also preamble.  Because DeWitt Henry wasn’t actually just moping around in his thirtieth year.  He was on the verge of a next great thing, a brand new future—not just for himself, but for all us readerly stiffs.

So he was frequenting a bar called Plough.  So, in the early fall of 1971, $2,000 were played against 1,000 copies of what would become the first issue of Ploughshares, now one of the most esteemed literary magazines in the world.  What writer doesn’t know Ploughshares, or lust after a Ploughshares page?  The intention was, to quote DeWitt quoting Gordon Lish, to make “a distinct contribution to the national adventure in writing” and, to now quote DeWitt quoting Ted Solotaroff, “to convey the bright hope” of contemporary writing.

DeWitt has brightened the bulb of hope in many ways throughout his career—teaching at Harvard before becoming the Chair of Writing, Literature, and Publishing at Emerson College, and publishing his own essays and stories, pieces that the great Tim O’Brien called “flat-out wonderful.”  He has made a career of launching careers while steadily tending his own.

Through the thickness and the thinness, DeWitt Henry never forgot his roots.  The house on Bloomingdale Avenue.  Howard, the butcher at Espenshade’s.  Kay’s Dress Shop.  The Anthony Wayne Theater.  St. David’s Golf Club. St. Martin’s Dam. The halls of Radnor High.  These memories are the stuff of Sweet Dreams, the memoir he’ll be sharing tonight.

In an essay called “On Aging,” about running the Boston marathon, DeWitt writes “There is the lesson of self-awareness and acceptance, beyond unrealistic ambition....” and then:  “There is the lesson of celebrating, from your individual limits, the glory of full human possibility.”  Tonight we celebrate DeWitt Henry—self aware and wholly accepting, the absolutely full human.

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Celebrating DeWitt Henry

I've been re-reading DeWitt Henry these past few days—all in anticipation of his appearance tonight at the Radnor Memorial Library.

(Be there.)

He's a man of letters, this DeWitt Henry.  An essayist, novelist, and memoirist whose books include Safe Suicide, Sweet Dreams, and The Marriage of Anna Maye Potts.  And while he taught at Harvard and chaired the Emerson Writing, Literature, and Publishing department (translation:  he has been living in Boston for a very long time), his roots are here, where I live, along the storied Main Line.

If you know DeWitt Henry as one of the founding editors of the esteemed literary magazine Ploughshares (for he is that, too), so be it.  If you are one of his nearly 5,000 Facebook friends, well—but—of course you are.  But I am one of those who has the privilege of reading a passage like the one below (from Sweet Dreams) and nodding my head in recognition, for I have been there.  I live there.  Indeed, my son has worked at this very theater (seasonally, of course) for many, many years.

Welcome Home, DeWitt. 

The Anthony Wayne Theater, our single movie theater, was ornately Victorian, with an overhanging marquee outside and a castle-like facade.  The three-sided ticket booth, with a circle to speak through and a loop to get your tickets, was out front under the shelter of a marquee.

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Unlucky? I don't think so.

You Are My Only is my thirteenth book.  In the early days, when that fact would surface, I was given all kinds of advice about how to go straight from 12 to 14 and thereby skip the unluckiness in between.  I shrugged it off.  A number is just a number, not a superstition.  Right?

But in the 24 hours leading up to the long-awaited book launch party at Radnor Memorial Library last evening, I began to rethink my no superstition policy.  I lost my glasses.  I lost my camera.  It rained most fierce just ahead of the party hour.  Most concerning was that mid-day hour, when it was discovered that the copies of the books that were to be sold that night had not yet made their way to Children's Book World, which had so kindly offered to join us at the event.  I admit it:  A few tears were shed.

And yet, I will look back on last night as one of the luckiest nights of my life.  Let's talk about what happened at six o'clock, at Elizabeth Mosier's incredibly beautiful and hospitable home, where writers  feasted on Elizabeth's amazing Mexican meal.  Libby is always there—a hugely talented writer and reader with a generous heart—and everyone in my neck of the woods (me perhaps above all) is grateful.  Let's talk about Pam Sedor, a dear friend, who has given me a home for years at her luxurious Winsor Room.  Let's talk about John, one of the most intelligent young readers I know (in fact, I refuse to believe that he is anything other than a New York Times Book Review writer), who sent me an email at this book's very start and who, late yesterday afternoon, sent me a link to his most stunning Dear Author review.  Let's talk about Florinda and Amy and Melissa and Caroline, who wrote loving notes just ahead of the event.  Let's talk about Ellen Trachtenberg, a friend who has stood by me throughout the publication of this book, lending me her perspective, know-how, and smarts.  Let's talk about Amy Rennert, my agent, who was on the phone with me several times during the course of yesterday, and who sent a beautiful email last evening.  Let's talk about those dancers, St. Johner's, writers, Zumbaists, long-time friends, neighbors, teachers, book clubbers, colleagues who worked their way in from the storm.  I wondered, to tell you the truth, if anyone would.  They did.  They were there.  Each one a treasure.

I hope that they know they are treasured.

In my opening remarks last evening I talked a little about what it takes to be a writer.  I share the final words of that talk here:

But just because I had to write this story doesn’t mean that I had an easy time of it.  I never do.  It’s not a straight-line process for me.  It’s not—find the plot, dance to the crescendo, put a little lute to the denouement.  It’s a devastatingly inefficient process, my writing of novels, and there are, I will admit it, tears.  Long, self-dramatizing monologues are involved.  Bad posture.  Tingling arms.  Broken fingernails.

I can be heard to say, I cannot do it.

I have sworn, Never again.

And then I’m right back at it the next day.  I’m pushing until I write one sentence that works.  And another sentence that works.  Because yes:  Ideas are essential.  And yes:  Stories need their characters.  And sure, it’s absolutely true that no publisher is going to look twice at you if you don’t have a plot.  

But I can’t  write forward if I don’t have a sentence that, to my ear, works.  If the preposition is wrong.  If there’s an extra syllabic beat.  If something cranks the wrong way or falls flat —when this happens, and it happens all the time, I cannot tick a chapter toward its end.  Several times I nearly lost You Are My Only.  Too many nights to count, I went to bed with an ache in my heart.

If you think you are a writer, if you want to be a writer, you need to read.  You need to be capable of hurting.  You need to imagine.  You need time, you need silence, you need space.  You need these things.  But if you do not also have a persevering spirit, you cannot be a writer.  If you do not, daily, choose to start at the base of the mountain and climb, with all ferocity, up, you aren’t going anywhere. 

You lose faith in yourself when you write—that’s part of the process.  You fight the lost faith of others.  You fight your way out of the margins.  You hold onto the people you trust.  Perseverance is the final hallmark of a writer.

Or, at least, it is what has brought me here, all these quiet books later, these books about heart.  You Are My Only is, in some ways, a different kind of book for me.  There is more plot.  There is more tension.  There is suspense.  But it is not, in fact, a departure.  My Emmy and my Sophie see, face, live terrible things.  They are placed into raw circumstances.  But what saves my Emmy and my Sophie is their ceaseless search for goodness.  What saves them is their special gift for believing that goodness wins.

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