Excavating the Truth

My great aunt Fannie Church had a reputation as a person who “wouldn’t stay written to.” If you sent her a note—zip!—she’d reply by  return mail. 

This practice was a boon for me when I was a homesick teenager at boarding school one year. My own parents wrote rarely, and Aunt Fannie’s letters often were the only mail I got. And they were wonderfully lively—full of details about art galleries she’d visited, anecdotes about family members. 

 

In reply, I prattled on about French lessons, my roommates, the patisseries around the corner. Her replies always expressed interest in whatever mundane things I wrote about. These exchanges enlivened my year away from home, and somehow soothed me.

 

A few years later in college, I was pleased to discover that letter-writing exchanges constituted a legitimate genre—"epistolary novels”--and actually were among the first modern English novels. 

 

So, with this predilection to appreciating the epistolary form, it’s no surprise that I delighted in reading Meet Me at the Museum by Anne Youngson. This slender novel has become a word-of-mouth favorite, garnering strong reviews and enthusiastic readers’ praise—all without a book tour or any kind of aggressive marketing activity.  It feels like a “find,” a little wonder of a book amid the avalanche of fall publications. 

 

The premise is simple.  A year-long correspondence  brings together Tina Hopgood, a middle-aged farmer’s wife in England, and Anders Larson, a middle-aged curator of a Danish museum.  Tina inquires about the Tollund Man, a 2000 year old mummy, unearthed from a nearby bog, perfectly preserved and a major attraction of the Silkeborg Museum in Denmark  (The museum is real, as is the Tollund Man.) Anders replies—and they are off. 

 

From their early formal letters, the two slowly begin to delve more deeply into matters of the heart. They share stories of their domestic lives and muse on life chances passed by. In small increments, the letters pave the way for a deep friendship—sometimes tentative, sometimes a daring leap. Writing letters seems to be a way that these two modest adults can express what’s most profound in their lives and dreams. 

 

The epistolary form seems ideal for this evolving relationship. In an essay for the British Museum Louise Curran writes about the 18^thcentury as the great age of letter writing. “Postal routes rapidly expanded, and the epistolary novel emerged as a hugely popular genre…Letter writers of the period used the form to describe and explore the self and everyday experience [It is a mode of writing that] offers an enticing glimpse into other people’s thoughts, feelings, and lives.”

 

Enticing, indeed. More than three centuries after the rise of the epistolary novel, Meet Me at the Museumdraws readers with  direct and intimate expression, as the main characters dig deep to excavate their essential truths. 

Literature and libations, Southern style

Reading and sipping—surely one of life’s great pleasures. 

Anna Hayes thought so. The Chapel Hill author of Without Precedent: The Life of Susie Marshall Sharp, (published by UNC Press in 2008) lives part-time in Paris and became aware of the prestigious book prizes awarded by a number of the "literary cafés" there, where famous writers like Sartre, de Beauvoir, and Hemingway used to hang out. 

“When my friends in Chapel Hill got tired of listening to me talk about what a good idea it was, we teamed up with Crook's Corner Bar and Café to establish a literary prize. Given Crook's status as an iconic Southern restaurant and its long history as a favorite hangout for artists of all sorts, it seemed a natural to partner with  Crook’s to sponsor a prize for best debut novel set in the South.”  

Why a prize for a first novel?

“Not many things are tougher than getting attention for a debut novel, so that's where we focused our efforts,” Hayes explained  So far, the prize has an impressive track record for spotting early talent. “From best-selling author Wiley Cash, who won the first award in 2014, to last year's winner, Margaret Wilkerson Sexton, who has been getting rave reviews for her second novel, Crook's Corner Book Prize winners have become vigorous citizens of the literary world.”

Hayes, president of the Crook’s Corner Book Prize Foundation, has been instrumental in raising awareness of the prize—and raising the amount of the award. Winners take home $5,000, plus a free glass of wine a day at Crook’s Corner for the year ahead. This year’s winner, to be announced tonight—at Crook’s, of course--was selected by judge novelist Charles Frazier from the following short list:

·      The Atlas of Reds and Blues by Devi S. Laskar

·      Sugar Land by Tammy Lynne Stoner

·      Lot: Stories by Bryan Washington

More than 30 debut novels were submitted for consideration this year.

And what’s the connection to Crook’s Corner? The adjective “iconic” almost always precedes mention of the restaurant—and for good reason. For more than three decades, the unassuming eatery on West Franklin Street, half-way between Chapel Hill and Carrboro, NC, has drawn enthusiastic crowds, from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill students and their families to locals who revere good food with a Southern touch. Founder and chef, the late Bill Neal, helped put shrimp and grits on the national culinary map.  A 1985 article in the New York Times drew early attention to the restaurant and heralded the dawn of respect for Southern cooking. Then-restaurant critic Craig Claiborne said Neal was “considered by many to be one of today's finest young Southern chefs.”

That appreciation continues today. Bill Smith, Neal’s successor and chef for 25 years, finally decided to retire last year, locals on the foodie scene were eager to continue Neal’s and Smith’s legacy. A group that includes Gary Crunkleton of The Crunkleton in Chapel Hill and Shannon Healy of Alley Twenty Six in Durham, bought  the Crook’s Corner in 2019. They recruited Justin Burdett,  well known chef  of Asheville’s Local Provisions, as the restaurant’s only third chef since it opened in 1982.

So far, he is winning accolades. A recent review in Raleigh’s News & Observer, said “Burdett’s challenge has been to continue that delicate balancing act [of continuing to offer traditional favorites and introduce new menu items]. A year in, the young chef is proving to be more than up to the challenge.”

So, Crook’s Corner is evolving. Of course, change happens. But some things stay the same—shrimp and grits, Atlantic Beach Pie, and honeysuckle sorbet on the menu. The rooftop fiberglass pink pig. The exuberant garden featuring bamboo and hubcaps. And the restaurant’s commitment to supporting debut Southern fiction through the Crook’s Corner Book Prize.

https://crookscornerbookprize.com

https://crookscorner.com

The broken hip reading list

The scourge of women of a certain age—a fall. A broken hip.

Astonished that it happened to me—an active, reasonably fit person devoted to strength-training sessions at the gym--I went through the usual passage in a bit of a fog. Surgery, hospital stay, two weeks in a rehab facility, then home. And homebound. Hobbling around with a cumbersome walker, no driving, certainly no dog-walking. Plenty of help from family, neighbors, and friends, really overwhelming help and kindnesses that surprised me.

But I couldn’t really do much of anything. So I turned to reading. Always my pleasure, reading became escape from boredom, a reminder that a wider world existed outside my small house and community. And how it sustained me! 

Some books were pure comfort—familiar authors and genres—some drew me into new worlds. Here’s what I have read since August 8…

Where’d You Go, Bernadetteby Maria Semple—Not a very good book, but at least in the early chapters, a real “page-turner,” a distraction for which I was grateful in the early post-surgery days

Thank You for Not Talking: A Laughable Look at Introvertsby Ben Alper—This gift was the perfect antidote to crazy-making early days in the rehab facility when I was stuck with a nonstop talker for a roommate

The Weight of Inkby Rachel Kadish—A remarkable tale of research and scholarship in two different time periods; long and dense and rewarding.

The Secrets We Keptby Lara Prescott—WWII women too smart to be only secretaries, and a reminder that literature may save democracy

She Said: Breaking the Sexual Harassment Story That Helped Ignite a Movementby Jodi Kantor and Meghan Twohey—An impressive and important  piece of reporting crafted into a compelling narrative

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett—I liked this far more than her previous three novels

Lady of the Lakeby Laura Lippman—Talk about multiple points of view! 

The Winter Soldierby Daniel Mason—Impressively researched and beautifully written, this novel set in WWI is intense and absorbing

What the Dog Knows: Scent, Science, and the Amazing Ways Dogs Perceive the World(Young Readers Edition) by Cat Warren—This author knows dogs and conveys their astonishing abilities in clear prose with a touch of humor

Olive, Againby Elizabeth Strout—Olive—back again! As crochety as ever, but with an elegiac tone. 

The Water Dancerby Ta Nehisi Coates—His first novel 

A Bitter Feastby Deborah Crombie—The latest from the Texas mystery writer who gets all things British police procedural pitch perfect

And a big shout-out to members of my book group, the Eclectics, for knowing just what would cheer me up. On my first day home, my friend Dianne arrived with a basket overflowing with books, gently used favorites from group members, to be read over time. Some were new titles to me, a few I’d already read, but collectively, this made up a glorious present 

A few of the selections:

Stonerby John Williams

Outlineby Rachel Cusk

In the Midst of Winterby Isabelle Allende 

Dear Lifeby Alice Munro

Death in Summerby William Trevor

We Are Not Ourselvesby Matthew Thomas

And if all that wasn’t bounty enough, the gift basket also included tasty items to enjoy while reading—biscotti, banana bread, almonds, savory crackers. Sigh of contentment.

Ten days remain until the projected official end of my recovery, so I still have time to tackle a TBR pile. In addition to a couple of books from the Eclectics basket, here are some books I’m considering:

The Nickel Boysby Colson Whitehead

Washington Blackby Esi Edugyan

I Have Always Lived in the Castleby Shirley Jackson.

Any other suggestions from readers of this blog?

Abundance

Have you ever received as much as you wanted of something you desired—maybe even more?

I was thinking today of a gift I received when I was 6 or 7—a gift so lavish and so unexpected that I’ve remembered it, with a sense of wonder, all my life.

My mother, younger brother, and I were staying at a hotel  in San Francisco, preparing to travel by ship  to Guam to join our dad, who’d been stationed there for a year. We’d lived with my grandparents, mother’s parents, in Memphis for that year, waiting until the Air Force built sufficient housing for “dependents’ quarters.” We, the dependents, expected to be living in Guam for a year, a long time away from familiar comforts of “stateside,” so mother had packed clothes and other necessities enough to carry us through our time on a tiny Pacific ocean.

As a little kid, I was oblivious about what I was leaving behind and what I might discover in the future. As it turned out, the year in Guam included going to school in Quonset huts; living through two typhoons; swimming at the beach every day after school; watching movies on a huge outdoor screen, often huddled under slickers and ignoring the frequent rain bursts. But that was all ahead of me.

At this time, before our departure, I was cranky because I was often left in the care of my grandmother, Nan, while Mother and her father conferred about paperwork—taxes, wills, I suppose. Nan was a stickler for manners and politeness to adults, and I chafed under her tutelage. One day, I must have lashed out—I don’t remember what I said—and she responded angrily: “You don’t appreciate what I do for you!” Then, she swept open the door of a walk-in closet, marched over to an enormous carton, ripped off the tape, and demanded: “Look at this.”

Look, I did. And I was amazed. The carton was filled with books. Dozens and dozens.  Maybe a hundred. Books for a child, a beginning reader who was hungry for books. 

I don’t remember the titles. Possibly the Bobbsey twins series or Nancy Drew, maybe a few Little Golden books, although I’d already outgrown such “babyish” fare.

All I remember is the abundance: the vast array of books, all there for me to sample in the coming year. 

In retrospect, I am astonished that my grandmother, not much of a reader herself, would have imagined that I would need such rich sustenance for the year ahead. I wish I had asked her about that. I wish I had ever thanked her enough. But I didn’t and she has been gone for decades. 

The books are long gone, too, of course. But what remains is an indelible memory of receiving just what I needed, more than I needed, more than enough. A gift that continues to astonish me.

And the winner is...

Mystery mavens anticipate the announcement of major awards to guide them to the best crime fiction and thrillers of the year. They know about the Edgars, awarded by the Mystery Writers of America in honor of Edgar Allan Poe; the Anthony, awarded to the year’s best crime fiction at the annual Bouchercon conference; and the Agatha, honoring the best in traditional mysteries (no explicit sex, excessive gore or gratuitous violence). 

Add to those best-of lists now The Beltie Prize for Best Mystery, a lesser known award but mighty in influence.

The Beltie? Never heard of it? You should. It’s the award bestowed by one man (no committees, please) who just possibly might be the most discerning mystery reader in the country: Pete Mock the buyer for McIntyre’s Books, an independent bookstore in Fearrington Village, a few miles south of Chapel Hill, NC. 

Pete has been with McIntyre’s since shortly after its founding 30 years ago. Although he reads widely on all topics, over the years, he’s developed a special  expertise in crime fiction, that’s  both wide and deep—everything from thrillers to traditional police procedurals to psychological mysteries. He carved out a major space in the book store devoted exclusively to the genre. Hundreds of mysteries line the shelves, and various lists and displays of Pete’s favorite mystery reads guide the browser. The space is adorned with a striking yellow banner warning  “police line—do not cross,” and a funky skeleton dressed in seasonal finery.

The mystery room also hosts frequent author talks, including many by well-known mystery authors, including such luminaries as Cara Black, Lee Child, and Jo Nesbo.

All this is a magnet for mystery-loving residents of and visitors to Fearrington Village, and they pepper Pete for advice on what to read. He’s always got an opinion: he reads about 200 books a year, about half of which are crime fiction and thrillers. (How can he possibly read so many books? The simple answer: “I never watch TV.”)

Recently, Pete was pondering ways he could reach more people and highlight strong books that had been overlooked by reviewers and the traditional best-of lists.

So he launched the Beltie Mystery Prize last year to honor the best mystery of the year. This year’s winner is LullabyeRoadby James Anderson.

Pete calls the novel “superb,” and challenges readers: “ I dare you to read up to page 5 and want to stop. And it only gets better from there.” Set in the high desert of Utah with a truck driver protagonist and a community  of eccentrics, Lullabye Roadis Anderson’s second novel set in the stark landscape of Utah’s lonely desert. (The first was The Never-Open Desert Diner.)

For Pete, setting is a critical dimension of any work of crime fiction. “If the setting is believable, the story will be believable,” he says. And the characters, including secondary characters, must be vivid. “I want to feel like I know these people.”

Pete acknowledges that publishers tend to jump on trends—like the current plethora of stories about unreliable female narrators—but he is always looking for a fresh voice, an author who is writing an original story.

So, this year, the Beltie honors Lullabye Road. And Pete is right. I read to the top of page 5 and couldn’t stop.

(And, BTW, the prize’s name? Unlike the major prizes named after renowned mystery writers or reviewers, the Beltie honors the Belted Galloway cows who make Fearrington their home. They are affectionally known as “Oreos” for the wide white stripe that spans their middles. But, somehow, Pete didn’t think calling his prize the Oreo quite hit the mark!)

Eleanor triumphs over loneliness

A recent item from a UK report about bestselling fiction caught my eye: "In fiction in 2018 there were crime thrillers, and then there was everything else…And 30% of 'everything else' was a single book: Eleanor Oliphant." 

Eleanor Oliphant? Who’s that? How had such a bestselling book escaped my notice?

Apparently, I am late to the game. Woefully so.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Perfectly Fineis a delightful discovery, late (to me) as it is. Eleanor was a breakout hit for Glasgow author Gail Honeyman who only started writing seriously in her 40s. On the basis of her submission of the first three chapters of the novel to a writing contest, she attracted an agent, and the rest is the stuff of literary wannabes’ fantasy. The debut novel won the Costa award for best novel, has been a best seller in many countries,  and has been optioned for a movie to be produced by Reese Witherspoon.

So who is Elanor Oliphant? And is she really perfectly fine? 

Eleanor is a 30-year-old lonely oddball who prefers working on cryptic puzzles to chatting with co-workers. When anyone (a social worker, a colleague) bothers to ask how she is, “perfectly fine” is her standard, if completely sarcastic response. 

She is, after all, employed at a job that absorbs her considerable intelligence during the work week. But on Fridays, she buys a frozen pizza and two bottles of vodka, and holes up in her apartment, not speaking to a single person until Monday morning. She has a weekly phone chat with her mother, during which she endures terrible emotional abuse. 

What else could a young woman want out of life? Well, plenty. She has the sense  that a richer life is out there. But Eleanor struggles with so many obstacles: she can’t “read” others’ expressions or comments, and she seems to lack the empathy gene. A disruptive life spent in foster care and group homes has contributed to Eleanor’s meager existence, as has a terrible childhood trauma, which remains unexplained until the last pages of the novel.

Despite all her deficits and setbacks, Eleanor pushes her way to a new and better life with the aid of a friend, a therapist, and assorted kindnesses bestowed  by—yes—strangers—but also by people she comes to believe care about her.

 In some ways, this is a transformation story, a Cinderella tale. But its tart tone and black humor keep it from being treacly. You will despair over Eleanor’s missteps, laugh at her wry observations on people and pop culture--and will cheer her as she emerges from a life of loneliness to one of purpose and connections, a life that really is “perfectly fine.”

A new year, a new resolution

This blog went on hiatus in 2017. I didn't plan it that way. It just happened, Week after week, month after month, I just didn't seem to have anything to say. Or worth saying. I ignored my feelings of guilt, figured a break was healthy. So, that happened...

But I've missed posting my thoughts on books, reading, and writing. And I've missed hearing from readers of the blog. So, on this first day of 2019, exlibrisnc is back!

The past year has been good in many ways, but not great in terms of books I’ve relished. So, for 2018, no “baker’s dozen” to recommend—just a trio of books that gave me pleasure.

Happiness: A Novel  by Aminatta Forna—I don’t know why this novel has flown to far under the radar, but I suspect that the title might be the problem, making potential readers think it’s relegated to the self-help shelf. Not so. It is a glorious, optimistic novel about the unlikely power of immigrants to enhance life. The “immigrants” include urban foxes, African hotel workers, a Ghanaian psychiatrist, and an American wildlife biologist, all of whom inhabit a London lovingly described. Well, yes, there ishappiness here.

Warlightby Michael Ondatje—Like so many of  his other novels (and Running in the Familyhis extraordinary memoir about growing up in Sri Lanka), Warlightshows Ondatje playing with shadows and secrets, memory, characters both mysterious and charming. The first line hooks you: “In 1945 our parents went away and left us in the care of two men who may have been criminals.”  Hang onto your hats; the story goes places you wouldn’t imagine.

Improvementby Joan Silber gathers eight linked stories set in New York, Turkey, and Germany. Characters in one story reappear in another story, shifting the reader’s view of them. Each story feels fresh, and the connecting threads bind the pieces to a greater whole. Partly through choice, partly through luck, the characters’ lives do improve in unexpected ways.