Book Chatter

I am so excited! This is my first guest post and it happens to be with Diana Spechler, the author of Who By Fire which I recently reviewed here. Diana, so glad you could stop by!

I Love Book Clubs

Since my novel hit the shelves in September, I’ve been attending kind strangers’ book clubs, enjoying their pot-luck dinners, drinking their pinot noir, hanging out on their couches, and befriending the members. Whenever I hear that someone’s book club might be discussing my book, I say, “I’m available! Invite me!” If the book club isn’t local, I offer a speakerphone chat. I hate the thought that some book club in Kansas might be discussing Who By Fire, while I’m at home in New York, missing all the fun. I love book clubs. Love, love, love. It’s the kind of love I could doodle about on the side of my sneaker or on the surface of my desk. DS + BC 4eva.

“Wow,” one of my author friends said to me. “I get invited to those, but I never go. It’s fun?”

“Fun!” I said. “It’s outrageously fun!”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

I wasn’t sure. But I figured it out a couple of days ago, when my four-year-old niece climbed into my lap and told me, “Say, ‘You’re gorgeous.’”

“You’re gorgeous,” I told her.

“Say, ‘You’re beautiful.’”

“You’re beautiful.”

She smiled coyly, as if to say, Oh, stop with the compliments; I’m blushing.

I realized it is a similar impulse (like aunt, like niece?) that compels me to seek out book clubs. I like to be the equivalent of an adult chaperone on what would otherwise be a hot date. If I’m in the room, no one can say a bad word about my book. All they can do, really, is talk about the parts they liked. “You’re gorgeous,” they have to tell me. “You’re beautiful.” Sometimes I can literally see someone in the group struggling to phrase her thoughts in a way that won’t offend me. And sometimes that makes me feel kind of guilty, like I’m a big black censor over a pair of nipples, a BEEP over the word “fuck.”

But then I think: Go ahead, honey, struggle. Find a way to turn, “I wasn’t crazy about this particular chapter” into, “Diana, you are gorgeous.”

Recently, I was asked to do a book club at a retirement home. I was so excited. After all, old people are generally doting, and I would be about the age of their grandchildren. They would look at me and feel protective and nurturing. They would say, “Your book is a masterpiece.” They would stick it on the fridge with a magnet. They would have it reduced to wallet-size so they could show it off to their friends.

The book club was held around a long wooden table in the library of the retirement home. The members (all women) trickled in, dressed to the nines in khaki pants over stockings and slippers, or smart appliqué sweat suits. When everyone was seated, one more woman entered the room. “I’m late!” she said, rushing—to the extent that an old person can rush—to an open seat, which happened to be next to mine. She had curly white hair and big purple plastic earrings. She settled in beside me, took my hand in both of hers, gave me an enormous smile, and leaned in close. She gazed into my eyes. She sighed.

I love you, too, I almost said.

“You’re the author?” she said.

“I am,” I said.

Her smile got even wider. “Honey,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I hated your book.”

“What?”

“I hated it.”

“Oh,” I said. I pulled my hand back like she’d bitten a chunk out of it. “Um,” I said, thinking of the eight graphic sex scenes, “did it offend you?”

“No,” she said cheerfully. “I hated it because it was bad.”

Well, all righty then.

I left the retirement home book club with a negative attitude. “I’m never doing another book club!” I said to the empty parking lot. “Never! Never! Never!”

But of course, that was a lie. I have two book clubs scheduled for this week alone. And I can’t wait. I’ve already selected a bottle of wine for each host. I’ve already started fantasizing about the home-cooked meals.

After all, if your boyfriend tells you your butt looks fat, do you swear off men for the rest of your life? No. You find a new boyfriend, one who will tell you you’re perfect. Or you wear slimming colors and get your hair done and give your boyfriend death stares until he apologizes. With roses. And a card that says, “Did I say fat? I meant beautiful and gorgeous.”

Diana, thank you for coming by. DS +BC 4eva! Love that. If you enjoy Diana’s writing, why not become a fan! Join Facebook, search for “Diana Spechler” and then click on the “Become a Fan” link.

Diana Spechler, author of Who By Fire

http://www.dianaspechler.com/

http://www.harpercollins.com/authors/33956/Diana_Spechler/index.aspx

The folks over at Andrew E. Freedman Public Relations were kind enough to send me a copy of Forever Lily: An Unexpected Mother’s Journey to Adoption in China by Beth Nonte Russell. Memoirs are not typically my thing but this one caught my attention.

Alex and her husband are in the final stages of adopting a child from China. Alex asks her friend Beth to accompany her on the trip to China. Beth is hesitant at first. Why wouldn’t Alex want her own husband to go with her?

After thinking it over, Beth decides to go along figuring it would be quite an adventure and something to add to her travel journal. What she does not anticipate, is the strong emotional bond she feels when she sees the child for the first time.

My reading of this novel could not have been timed better. A close friend of mine just returned from a trip to China and she shared dozens of pictures with me, along with stories about the people, the culture, etc. As I was reading Beth’s story, much of what she said corresponded to what my friend told me. This really set the scene for me and by page 50 I was completely engrossed.

Although Beth is there to accompany Alex, she is deeply affected by the adoption process and haunted by the children that are left behind. The detail in which Beth tells the story is at times heart wrenching, but very well written. Here’s an example:

“What happens when one is confronted with the sick, the neglected, the dirty? Either the heart opens, or it slams shut against the assault. Is this a choice or a reaction born of a million prior choices? What happens when love does not come?”

Although the book does not go into great detail about the living conditions in which these children live, there is enough detail there to make you want to book a flight to China if only to save one child. Russell does an excellent job of allowing you into her world. You see China the way she saw it and you feel her frustration and helplessness as she tells her story.

Although I was deeply moved by the book, I was distracted by the frequent dream sequences. Throughout the story, Russell shares the dreams that she had during the trip. At first I read all of the dream entries, but after a dozen or so, I began to skip them in order to get back to the story. The interview at the back of the book says that the actual dreams were more fractured when she had them, but upon return from the trip, through meditation, she spent a great deal of time reentering the dreams which she admits were past-life experiences. This allowed for more detailed accounts which were included in the book.

Overall, I enjoyed the book and felt it was well written, but I don’t think the dream sequences were necessary. Knowing that little has changed with China since this book was written, I think it would be a good book for a prospective parent to read…especially one who is considering an international adoption. It doesn’t give you all the specifics as far as the requirements of course, but it does pose some serious questions that a prospective parent should consider very carefully before going through with the process.

As far as book groups, I think there would be plenty for a group to discuss. The idea of international adoption is controversial on its own, but there’s a lot going on between Alex and Beth that I cannot get into without giving the story away.

If you’d like to read more about Chinese adoption, check out this article written by Russell that was published in the New York Times back in 2007.

Chatting with friends about books and life…