in which a reader of STORY taps deeply into its mystery

In which Serena Agusto-Cox of Savvy Verse and Wit discovers the breadcrumb clues I've been leaving for readers all along, book to book. So many thanks for this truly gorgeous review of This Is the Story of You.

From the end of the review:

This Is the Story of You by Beth Kephart will astonish you with the resilience of young people, their drive to make things right, and their ability to withstand more than expected, but it is in the final pages that the true mystery is resolved.  I will say this, I’m not often surprised by book endings or mysteries, but Kephart exceeded my detective skills for the first time in a long while.  (I had suspicions, but not a fully formed conclusion.)  Readers who love to immerse themselves in realistic places and explore humanity won’t be disappointed.  Kephart is a talent at creating places that come alive and characters that grab hold of us emotionally.

**You’ve probably already suspected this is a contender for the best of 2016 list at the end of the year!**

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so grateful this morning for Serena's thoughts on LOVE

My great appreciation for Serena Agusto-Cox, for being the very first reader (beyond the team and the kind blurbers) of LOVE: A Philadelphia Affair. The very first.

What kindness lives in this busy mother, writer, reader, worker.

She has a special knack for finding those ineffable qualities I work toward and hope through in the pages of my books.

I don't want to preempt her. And so I link to her. With greatest thanks.

Savvy Verse & Wit, on LOVE, is here.

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what our readers teach us, with thanks to Serena Agusto-Cox, an early reader of One Thing Stolen

Writing, we tunnel in. We go to dark places. Walk contorted paths. Stumble. It takes a long time before we re-emerge, our eyes blinking into the sun.

Hard to know, in all that desperate making, if we have created something whole. We wait to hear from those who have read.

This morning I am so very grateful to find these words from Serena Agusto-Cox.

Her review begins like this:

One Thing Stolen by Beth Kephart, which will be published in April, has crafted a testament to artistry and the adaptability of the human mind.  Set in Florence, Italy, the birthplace of the Renaissance, Kephart transports readers across the ocean from Philadelphia, Pa., to the cobbled streets of Italy.  Nadia Cara is a young teen who builds nests by weaving seemingly incongruous materials together, making things of beauty.  She’s an artist on overdrive as other parts of her life disappear and flounder amidst the detritus of memory.  She knows that she’s struggling, she knows that she is becoming someone she does not want to be, but she also knows that she is powerless to stop it.

And can be read in its entirety here.

Thank you, Serena.

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Going Over: a 2014 Booklist Editors' Choice and, among two committed readers, a "best of"

Thank you, Booklist Editors, for including Going Over as one of 16 novels for older readers in your 2014 Editor's Choice books.

And thank you, Serena Agusto-Cox and Sarah Laurence, for being such interesting and committed readers—of many genres, of many books—and of sharing the stories you find with the rest of us. I'm honored to be on your year-end lists, among books that I, too, loved.

Serena Agusto-Cox, for those of you who might not know, is a poet and, beginning in 2015, a reader/writer offering her impressive skills through Poetic Book Tours. She blogs, intelligently and generously, about books here.

Sarah Laurence, meanwhile, is an artist and writer and reviewer, represented by Laura Geringer. I've always been intrigued by her take on books and have always be so very grateful that she has taken time to read and reflect on my own.




 

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A World Without Walls? and A Most Generous Launch of the Going Over Blog Tour

This is the 25th anniversary year of the fall of the Berlin Wall—an anniversary that is being commemorated with lights, balloons, exhibitions, proposals of hope. And yet, in so many places, for so many different reasons, we remain a world divided.

I write of those contradictions, those residual fears, in today's Publishing Perspectives, in a piece that begins like this:

We live in a world of infinite gradations and restless infiltrations. We live in a world of checkpoints, watchtowers, walls. We are free to go, or we are not. We are here, but never entirely there. We are fenced in or fenced out. We are on the move (some 232 million around the world left one country for another in 2013, according to the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs) or we are hunkered down—stuck—behind a fortress of distance-making words: “Aliens.” “Illegals.”

We are global.

We are divided.

... and continues here.

My hope, today, is that you'll find time to read this piece and, if you are so moved, to share it.

My hope, too, is that you will send Miss Serena Agusto-Cox, most faithful and intelligent reader and writer, all kinds of yellow-tulip thoughts, for she has written such kind words about Going Over and soft launched the blog tour with all kinds of goodies, including the offer of a free book to one reader. You can find the whole thing here. I share, below, Serena's final words about the book:

Kephart’s Going Over is stunning, and like the punk rock of the 80s, it strives to stir the pot, make readers think, and evoke togetherness, love, and even heartbreak — there are lessons in each.

 Thank you.

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While I was gone: a misbegotten fireplace fire, and kindness

Winter hit hard in these parts—as snow became rain became ice, trees keeled and broke, and hundreds of thousands lost power. The world was dark, dystopian, empty-seeming. We lasted for two days here, until a carefully tended fire in our own fireplace smoked out the house, thanks to an invisible, inoperative damper. Staying close to the burnt hearth was not an option.

And so we slipped away. I read three incredible books over those two days and am eager to share my thoughts with you here. (And will soon.) For now, I want to thank a few people who buoyed me through the storm.

First, Beth Hoffman (of Saving CeeCee Honeycutt and Looking for Me), for so generously sharing her thoughts about my memoir Nest. Flight. Sky. with her legions of fans. This unforeseen generosity was such a huge surprise and so very welcome in the life of this mini-memoir. It was a gift.

Also, all thanks to Serena Agusto-Cox, who reviewed Nest. Flight. Sky. so kindly. Serena bought this $2.99 Shebook at once, read at once, and stopped to share her thoughts. That makes a huge difference, and I'm so appreciative. (I'm also so appreciative to Susan Tekulve, who was the very first to read and to write to me of this.)

Deep thanks as well to Ed Goldberg, who received an early copy of Going Over and wrote so beautifully about it in a review that touches on my work over time—all those themes that have held me in their grip. Ed, your shared faith in the intelligence of readers and their willingness to go deep means so much to me. You posted your review at just the right time.

Finally, Jessica Keener and Jamie Krug, big thanks to you—for sharing word of Handling the Truth with those you feel might learn something about confession and language, search and story in those pages. Books like mine survive through word of mouth. You keep giving Handling wings.

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Handling is (also) for teen writers and those who teach them (thank you, Bookslut), and a librarian speaks

My friend Colleen Mondor is at it again—reading ardently, recommending generously. Her monthly Bookslut columns are a source of endless interest, and her December column is no different—featuring, among others, Jason Fforde, Gavin Extence, and Jenny Davidson.

Colleen also very kindly includes Handling the Truth in her column, and I love finding that book here, among the YA reads, for I have always believed that this book about the making of memoir was relevant for teens and those who teach them. I found that hunch confirmed while at NCTE in Boston, where I was thrilled to meet so many who teach memoir to younger writers and to hear their stories about the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth graders who have plunged into the personal.

Says Colleen:

For the teen writer, Handling the Truth offers some valuable insight into many facets of the writing life, especially finding the truth in a story. Packaging Handling the Truth along with a couple of the dozens of memoirs Kephart lists in her detailed bibliography would be a great way to tell the teen in your life that you take his or her writing dreams seriously.

I share as well these words from a kind librarian named Rick, forwarded to me by none other than Serena Agusto-Cox

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Going Over: a sweet and surprising first mention in School Library Journal

After a long (good) day with a beloved client, I came home to the other parts of my life—to a wonderful call from my agent, Amy Rennert, to an unexpected Handling the Truth moment provided by George Kelley.org via Serena Agusto-Cox, and to these very kind words in School Library Journal, as shared with me by Lauren Strohecker.


It all made a very tired girl weepy—in a good way.

Thank you to everyone who makes my life so rich.

And thank you to Amy Cheney of SLJ, who wrote these words:

Yet Beth Kephart’s Going Over (April) is the galley that I am most looking forward to reading. We learned some interesting back story: editor Tamra Tuller visited Berlin for the first time a few years ago; as she walked the graffiti-lined streets from West to East Berlin, she thought about what it must have been like to live in the city while the Berlin Wall was still up, and what it must have been like to be entirely cut off from loved ones by it. About a year later, Kephart visited Berlin and similarly fell in love. The two compared notes and, within months, Kephart had completed the book.

Kephart’s story so exceeded Tuller’s expectations, she says, that she cried when she first read it. Also of note is that the design of the book is meant to bring the reader further into the experience: its cover shows the actual Berlin Wall, and its endpapers show the different layers of the wall: the watchtower, service barriers, signal, and hinterland fence. Our immediate reaction? So cool!

A link to the entire preview is here.

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a bright spot in my weekend: this review of Flow, my river book

Thank you, Serena, for taking the time to find and read my river book, Flow: The Life and Times of Philadelphia's Schuylkill River. 

I had such psychic freedom, writing that book, and perhaps that is why it will always be one of my favorites. The sense of writing for an audience of one, the gratitude that far more than one made the the river their own.

Some of Serena's lovely words are here, below:

Kephart melds her prose with photography, poetry, and factual notations.  There’s a sense of nostalgia in Flow that breathes life into history, ensuring readers sense the culture of the time period, the struggles of the people, and their dreams.  The river just wants to live, but she remains curious about her own environment, curious about how the people use and abuse her, and disheartened when it seems as though she has been forgotten or replaced.

The rest can be found here.

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a Handling review, a Handling teleconference, a memoir conference, and introducing Jesmyn Ward and Terry McMillan

Many thanks to MetroWest Daily News and Rae Padilla Francoeur for this in-depth and considered review of Handling the Truth, which begins like this:

“Handling the Truth: On the Writing of Memoir” by National Book Award finalist Beth Kephart may seem targeted to the writer of memoir. But the subtitle is more encompassing. We are right to expand the scope of the book’s target market to include all students of memoir. Any fan — writer or reader — is going to appreciate “Handling the Truth,” where many of our questions are addressed.—Rae Padilla Francoeur

Thank you, Serena Agusto-Cox, for letting me know.

While I'm here, I'd like to share my excitement over two things happening within the next 24 or so hours, and one thing that will happen next month.

First, I'll be at the Free Library of Philadelphia this evening, introducing National Book Award winner Jesmyn Ward and mega-bestseller Terry McMillan—an event that will surely be glorious. Details are here. Join us if you can.

Second, tomorrow I'll be having a tele-conversation with Linda Joy Myers, a memoir expert, writer, teacher, and founder/president of the National Association of Memoir Writers. Linda Joy is a joy—I know this for sure, because of our many conversations, and because she took the time to meet me a few short weeks ago, when I was in Northern California. Here are the details on our forthcoming conversation; we'd love for you to join us.

Third, I know that, once you listen to Linda, you'll be incredibly happy to know that you, too, can meet her in person, when she comes to the Memoir Festival at Rosemont College, on October 20, the details about which are here. I'll be there as well, as well as Robert Waxler and Jerry Waxler.

But first things first. A few words about Linda and tomorrow. Hope to "see" you there.

On Friday of this week I’ll be having a conversation with someone who is very special in the memoir world—someone all of you know well. Linda Joy Myers didn’t just open her heart to me when she heard I’d written a book about the making of memoir, she opened this NAMW world—inviting me into a dialogue, talking with me about stories and how they get made, arranging for our teleconference, and turning anticipatory tweets in the art of haiku. In just a few short days, we will take that conversational leap of faith and talk to each other about the many things that preoccupy us both in the making of memoir. How we capture what we love. How we protect those whom we cherish. Why we cannot write if we do not read, and read widely. What happens when the truth is bruised, when trust is shattered.  

Linda has been teaching memoir for a very long time to a wide range of people. I have been teaching to small classrooms of undergraduates at the University of Pennsylvania. We have so much we’re eager to share, and we hope you will join us.

Not long ago, I was standing near Fulton Street in New York City, watching the sun go down on the Brooklyn Bridge. Not far from me were these trapeze artists—or beginning trapeze artists—daring themselves to take a leap, trusting another to catch them. That, I thought, is how writing feels. No matter how many books in, no matter how much we think we know.
We’ll talk about that, too, come Friday.

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today is the day, the winner is, and thank you, Serena, for this amazing review of Handling the Truth

I took my corporate work outside for an hour yesterday—needed the air, needed to get my heart to stop pounding so hard. This little fellow greeted me. "What the heck are you up to?" he said.

Today I'm up to releasing Handling the Truth: On the Writing of Memoir. I cannot believe this day has finally come. I know that there have been other Beth books before this one—and certainly this book could not have been written without the knowledge I'd gained from writing the memoirs, the poetry, the history, the fiction, too. Still, somehow, Handling feels like the very first book. The jangle of nerves. The hopes. That sense of expectation. Here, in this book, are the things I've learned, the things I've taught, the books I've loved, and the students who inspire me. Also my mother, father, husband, son.

It's all here. Jangles. Tangles. Nerves.

That is one of the reasons I am particularly grateful to Serena Agusto-Cox for helping me celebrate this day with her absolutely beautiful reflections on this book. Serena came to my event in Alexandria, VA, and bought her copy there. She has been gracious ever since, sending me notes as she read through. I know how much time she spent putting together her review, and so, for that reason especially, I encourage you to read it here.

My favorite part:

She shares her favorite places, her favorite music, her favorite memoirs, and her students’ work, and she begs that anyone interested in writing memoir do it because the story must be told and is relate-able to someone outside the self.  Writing the genre requires the writer to be as honest with herself as she can be and to fill the gaps in memory with facts from documents or cross-referencing conversations and moments with those that share the memory.  Reading this reference memoir is like getting to know Kephart on a personal level, but it’s also about getting to know the writer inside you — the one that wants to write the book but doesn’t know where to start.  Although this advice is geared toward those who wish to write their own personal histories, there is sage advice for other writers — fiction writers struggling with what tense to put their book in, for example.

Thank you to all of you who have cheered me on in this endeavor. Thank you to those who will join me this evening at the Free Library of Philadelphia, 7:30, for a reading and workshop. Those who want to know more about the book—or read my students' work, or read about new memoirs I've loved, or see some of the reviews—please visit this dedicated Handling the Truth page. 

Finally, a few days ago, I put into motion a Handling contest, asking readers to name their favorite memoirs. Such intriguing titles came forth—everything from Crossing the Moon, Angela's Ashes, Wild, and The Thing About Life is That One Day You'll Be Dead to The Glass Castle, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, two Joan Didions, and several mentions of Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions. But the winner, randomly chosen (and not by me) is .... Kim Nastick, who chose Joan Didion's Blue Nights, a book I do write about in Handling.

Kim, send me a note and I'll get you a signed copy.

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Star Tribune reviews Handling the Truth

How lucky am I?

Thank you, Meganne Fabrega, for this heartening review of Handling the Truth in today's Star Tribune.

Grateful doesn't begin to describe me, at this moment in time (relieved is another word). And thank you, Serena Agusto-Cox, for letting me know.

The full review is here. One gesture below. And don't forget to enter for your chance to win a copy of the book—and to extend the conversation about memoir; more about that here.

At first glance her writing style may appear to be casual, but her advice for the memoir writer is deadly serious. “Careful, now,” she says to her class, and to her reader, as they start down the path of writing about their lives. There are many cautions like this along the way, because, “Writing is not a task; it is no job. Writing is a privilege.”

One of the qualities that make Kephart the perfect author for a book like this is that she considers herself not only a teacher, but a lifelong student. “I blame Natalie Kusz,” she writes, citing Kusz’s memoir “Road Song” as her earliest foray into memoir. She quotes heavily throughout the book from writers she continues to learn from, whether it is one of her own novice students or those she considers masters of the craft, such as Patricia Hampl or Sven Birkerts.

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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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Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent: some kind words from Savvy Verse & Wit

My friend Serena Agusto-Cox was an early reader of Dangerous Neighbors, my Centennial Philadelphia novel. She wondered, when she finished reading, about that character William, who plays a secondary role in Neighbors, and when I had in hand finished copies of Dr. Radway—a book in which William stars—I sent one her way.

She writes thoughtfully and kindly here about the story, and on this day, when I'm thinking so much about my city, I am particularly grateful.

Thank you, Serena. A small part of her review is here, below. The whole can be found here.

Kephart brings home the pressure of change and darkness with the thrumming of the machines, the locomotive commotion, and the constant mechanization of the city pounding in the background.  While the industrialization signifies a change and progress that can be beneficial and create opportunity, there also is the darker underbelly of those changes that must be dealt with — the corruption and the abuse of those willing to take advantage of their position and of others.  There is a keen juxtaposition of this in the characters of Officer Kernon and the Ledger’s editor Mr. Childs — one who abuses his position to get what he wants and the other who offers his aid in the form of mentoring and money to young men in need of guidance.

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the YoungArts writers and me, after our morning in the garden

I have ignored many things this week, but that has to be okay.  I'll get caught up.  I always do.

My heart and mind and thoughts were here, with the fabulous YoungArts writing finalists of 2013.

While away, Serena Agusto-Cox whispered word of this goodness into my virtual ear.  I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that Small Damages continues to find its generous readership.

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a You Are My Only book trailer, as created by a dear librarian

What a day this has become.  Reading in the morning.  Kindness from all quarters.  The Shelf Awareness moment, long awaited.  Then, this beautiful Small Damages review in Tripping Over Books.  Then this Small Damages moment from Jaina Lewis at the Westport Public Library in Connecticut.  (Thank you to Serena for telling me about the last two.)

And so I wrote to Jaina to thank her for being so kind.  And so she wrote back to share the book trailer above, which she had made as part of her process of sharing You Are My Only with her area eighth graders.  I have never seen my work translated into film, and so I have never had the experience of knowing, precisely, how one of my stories might look to another.  This is stunning, what Jaina has done, and I am embarrassed that I did not know of it before, else I would have thanked this librarian/film maker much sooner.  I share her work then today—out of respect and great appreciation for the time Jaina took to do this, and for her kind words today.

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Small Damages is returned to me, in such new ways, by Jenny Brown of Twenty by Jenny

Twenty by Jenny is home to some of the most thoughtful reviews of books written for children and teens—anywhere.  That is because Jenny Brown, its creator, has cared about youth literature for all of her adult life—as a teacher sharing stories, as an editor producing them, and as a critic and enthusiast writing for countless publications, including Shelf Awareness.  Jenny Brown trails golden light.

But I did not know, until late last night, that Jenny Brown, who had written the exquisite Shelf Awareness review of Small Damages, had also taken the time to reflect on Small Damages in Twenty by Jenny.  Her essay is called "Regeneration."  It is, in every way, stunning.  It taught me about my own book, made me step back with new understanding.  This kind of reflection is built of love.  And I am so grateful, Jenny Brown.  I am.

I am so grateful, too, to the ever-vigilant Serena Agusto-Cox, for letting me know.

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Appleton and Tasha, BookBrowse and Tamara, Serena and Small Damages

Two years ago, in Appleton, WI, I had what will always remain one of the happiest few days in my writing life.  I'd been invited to the Appleton Book Festival, and I had nine official events in two-and-half days—teaching memoir in libraries, talking about the future with high school students, standing on big stages in middle school auditoriums to address entire student bodies, taking over a lovely green-rugged library, working one-on-one with rising poets, talking to the darling editors of school newspapers, consulting with a boy who wanted me to write his personal story.  Everywhere I went I was received with such open-hearted goodness, and one morning, in the elevator, I met Ted Kooser, that laureate poet, and told him how I had read his poems to my mother during her final days.  I loved Appleton with a passion. I walked her river in the few hours when I wasn't teaching and ate alone at night in a restaurant that soon felt like my own.  These were, in so many ways, perfect days.

Yesterday, my friend Serena Agusto-Cox wrote to tell me that an Appleton librarian named Tasha (of Waking Brain Cells) had read Small Damages and had very kind things to say.  (Serena sends word of kind reviews from time to time, and because of her, I get to thank the reviewers.)  Tasha's beautiful words are deeply moving; they epitomize the graciousness of her city.

Late last night, meanwhile, I received an email from Tamara Smith, who had interviewed me so graciously about the role of landscape in my work (and mind) a few weeks ago.  Tamara's BookBrowse review of Small Damages had gone live, and she was writing to let me know.  The review is breathtaking—and it, too, says as much about the person behind the review as it does about the story I tried to tell.  Perhaps even more.

A morning hug, to you all.

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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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Small Damages, Day of Riches

Today, a day of riches, and I'm not sure I can adequately capture them, reflect them, send them back out into the world with as much power as they have—each of them—given to me.  Quiet power.  Not the kind that goes off strutting, but the kind that is found in the middle of the night, alone, beneath a full bright sheet of stars.

As they occurred to me, then, in the order that I discovered them:

A dear overnight send off from My VERY GOOD Friend Amy.  

Pam van Hylckama's (which is to say Bookalicious's) exquisite review of Small Damages.  She was in a car wash, as I recall, when she first read this book some time ago.  I remember the happiness I felt when she whispered a few encouraging words my way.

Serena Agusto-Cox's incredibly kind Book Birthday Blog, which can be found here.

Tamra Tuller's news of a beautiful VOYA review, which called Small Damages, among other things, "a magical story that is simple, yet complex."

Joseph Glantz going live with an interview he has been conducting with me over the past few days; his questions touched on all aspects of my career—from Flow to Zenobia to Dangerous Neighbors to the memoir work and to my love of place, my approach to dialogue, and my obsession with metaphors.  Our conversation can be found here. 

Twitter love from Pam and Danielle, Kelly and Melissa, the Penguin team, Maya, Lydia, Jenna, and Ruta Sepetys, whose love continued into this late afternoon, when I came home from a circus and discovered a gift from her at my front door.  We shall, indeed, have cake, Ruta.  We shall.  A note from Alyson Hagy, who cares so much.  A note from my dear Ivy Goodman.  An enthusiastic call from Amy Rennert, my agent.  Dear notes from Jessica Shoffel.  So many sweet emails from Tamra Tuller.  Michael Green being his cryptic-funny-smart self.  A virtual moment with Jill Santopolo.  Kindness via Facebook. 

The gloriously thoughtful words from the well-known and widely loved blogger, Florinda (3rsblog), with whom I have now had a long friendship, and with whom I get to cross paths, in person, every now and then, even though she lives 3,000 miles away.  Her words are precious to me, and she is, too.  Her thoughts about Small Damages are here.

The realization (thanks to Twitter) that Small Damages had been named one of five hot YA picks "that will thrill adult readers just as much as teenagers" by She Knows Book Lounge.  

The stumbled-upon discovery that Melissa Sarno of the blog This Too is holding a Small Damages giveaway over on her own fine words-rich blog.  That rascal, that sneak—but thank you, Melissa.  You. Should. Not. Have.  If you want a shot at Melissa's generosity, you need to go here. 

An email from Missy Kemp containing the photograph above.  Small Damages, arrived in her home.  That hint of orange.  And, soon after, the arrival, here, of my own box of books.  I can hold this book now in my hands.

And, finally, on this day, news that BookPage had included Small Damages among "the handful of teen books from this year that adults need to read."  The others on that list are Daniel Handler's Why We Broke Up, John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, Nike Lake's In Darkness, Patricia McCormick's Never Fall Down, Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity, David Levithan's Every Day, Margo Lanagan's The Brides of Rollrock Island, and Rachel Hartman's Seraphina.  That is shocking and glorious company to keep, and of course the idea of having Small Damages be considered as a crossover title is glory to the ears of this writer, who just yesterday published a piece on the value (or not) of YA labels. 

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