From Book Reviewer to Author Photographer

For years I've seen (and occasionally chatted with) Miriam Berkley at the annual National Book Critics Circle members meeting, luncheon and book awards ceremony in New York. Now, thanks to a lengthy interview in Eric Forbes's Book Addict's Guide (condensed in the July issue of Quill), I've learned that there's a lot going on behind "The Eyes of Miriam Berkley."

Critical Confab (Bella's Excellent NY Adventure 3)

Author photographer extraordinaire Miriam Berkley snapped James Marcus, Ken Foster, Sarah Gold of PW and me at the National Book Critics Circle luncheon at Cafe Loup on March 8.

Last Thursday was the annual membership meeting of the National Book Critics Circle, followed by a luncheon, then awards and reception in the evening.

Those who accuse NBCC of being a secret society are partially right: it's the only professional organization I've belonged to that doesn't offer a membership directory. I received one when I joined 8 or so years ago, and every meeting since then I've asked when we're going to get a new one. It's always "in the works"; only now online instead of in print. I think I'll start calling for a secret handshake in the meantime.

Organizational irregularities aside, I love going to NBCC meetings because I so enjoy being with my tribe. I may not be writing reviews these days, but reviewers are my people and we speak the same language.

For the past few years, the second half of the annual meeting consists of a panel discussion with invited guests, moderated by an NBCC member. This year the topic was "The Mandarin at the Minimart: What We Talk about When We Talk about Mass Market Fiction."

Moderator Lev Grossman, Time book critic, sat on the far right. In a line next to him were Reagan Arthur, Little, Brown executive editor; Thom Geier, Entertainment Weekly book editor; Louisa Ermelino, Publishers Weekly reviews director; and on the far left, novelist Walter Mosley (with carton below).

Photo by Miriam Berkley

The discussion was quite lively, though it only addressed one of the stated topics: "Why does genre fiction get so little critical attention?" The others were glossed over: "Why do critics review genre fiction so condescendingly? Who are the hacks, and who are the pros, and how do we tell them apart – and do literary critics have the skills to do it?"

Mosley was the bad boy on the panel, though as usual he provided the most memorable (to me, anyway) lines. He berated NBCC three times for being all white--despite a clearly African-American member sitting directly opposite him. (I'd only seen photographs of the light-skinned Mosley, and before he was introduced to the group I thought he was some old Jewish guy.) The third time, board member Marcela Valdes called out from the back of the room, "We're not all white!" Mosley also made clear early and often how incensed he was at the bad review his "sex" book, Killing Johnny Fry, got from EW and others. Thom Geier was sitting well away from him--by prearrangement, I learned later.

The conversation turned to how books are classified. Various speakers noted that when certain authors write genre fiction, it's considered "literary." For example, Philip Roth's The Plot Against America is actually science fiction--and not very good sci-fi at that, several in the audience rumbled. Someone (Mosley?) said that science fiction is by our smartest writers, which was widely affirmed.

"Good writing is good writing," said Ermelino. Damn straight!

Arthur and Geier pointed out that PW and EW review genre fiction. It was generally agreed that romance sells whether it's reviewed or not. Sybil Steinberg, former fiction editor at PW, said that when she assigned reviews to romance enthusiasts, often the reviews' prose was as purple as the books'. My thought, which I didn't get to voice, is that "literary" reviewers look for good writing, whereas romance readers look for a satisfying story; they don't mind clunky prose. (I still remember a mastodon described as a "ponderous pachyderm" in Clan of the Cave Bear, which cured me of reading any more of the series.)

Mosley observed that he's only shelved in the Mystery section, never in African-American, whereas Toni Morrison is in Literature and Af-Am. "I would like to be in two sections," he said. Classifying books, he continued, "is pure capitalism: How do we sell it best?" In reference to his "straight" fiction, which doesn't receive the glowing reviews his mysteries do, he said, "You can only write one way. The publishing company won't support you if you write a different kind of book."

Chauncey Mabe, book editor of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel, opined that literary fiction itself is a genre and has its conventions. (Hmm, maybe.) He said that his paper reviews genre fiction--except for romance, which elicited grimaces and grumbles from around the room.

The best quote of the day came from Mosley: "Fiction grows in the mind of the reader. And gains in meaning."

Despite his sometimes inflammatory statements, Mosley acted the consummate promoter by offering to sign copies of his latest book, This Year You Write Your Novel, which his editor, Arthur, had conveniently brought a carton-full. I took it as an omen (I've been procrastinating on several magnum opi for years), and had him sign one to me. I started reading it, and it's good: inspiring, sensible and succinct. If...ahem, when!...I finish my novel, I'll have Mosley to thank.

NBCC Finalists' Reading (Bella's Excellent NY Adventure 2)

I expected there would be the usual 10-15 authors presenting their work at the NBCC finalists' reading on Wednesday evening. But when I arrived at the New School's Tishman Auditorium, I found that only 3 of the 30 nominees wouldn't be showing up.

I groaned inwardly (OK, outwardly too) at the thought of sitting through TWENTY-SEVEN (!!!) readings, remembering with a shudder the year that the first of 14 readers went on for 25 minutes without interruption (I was ready to yank him off the stage myself). I'd had a yogurt before I came downtown, so I knew my stomach could make it through. But I wasn't so sure if my tush would, especially after having been on a plane for 4+ hours. Happily, the pace quickened throughout the evening, so that Fiction, Poetry and General Nonfiction, which came after an intermission, only took one hour--versus 90+ minutes for Autobiography, Criticism and Biography.

With a few notable exceptions--Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, for one--overall the NBCC finalists lived up to the stereotype of the pale, bespectacled, slightly rumpled author. Another stereotype some lived up to was the author as lousy performer: Few of them set up what their books were about, perhaps assuming (wrongly) that everyone in the audience knew already. Several read passages that gave no clue as to the book's overarching theme--or even its subject (I was as ignorant of Frederick Crews's FOLLIES OF THE WISE: Dissenting Essays after his reading as I was before). Some also had a sleep-inducing drone: Karen Emmerich, translator of the late Miltos Sachtouris' POEMS (1945-1971), did the classic poetry singsong voice in English and Greek. Snore.

Poet Daisy Fried (MY BROTHER IS GETTING ARRESTED AGAIN) gets the prize for worst career move/fashion accessory: She read with her two-month-old daughter strapped to her chest. Some in the crowd said "Awww!" when Fried went to the podium, but my reaction was "UGH!" The kid was sound asleep, but, as babies often do, emitted little squeaks and sighs, which were duly picked up by the microphone. The great thing about giving birth is that you no longer have to carry a big, heavy lump on your abdomen all the time. (The Boy Wonder was 9 lbs, 12 oz, so I know whereof I speak.) Surely Fried could have handed the baby off to its father, or a friend--or even her editor or publicist--for the 3 minutes she was onstage. During the awards ceremony the next night, Fried had to make a hasty exit from the packed auditorium when Baby Dumpling started squalling (as expected by me, if not by her doting mama). I was fresh out of sympathy.

Highlights:

• Alison Bechdel showed slides from her graphic-book memoir, FUN HOME: A Family Tragicomic, to accompany her reading. It barely mattered that she left off the last sentence of her text, which was eaten by her laptop.
• Alexander Masters gave the first emotional reading of the evening, from STUART: A Life Backwards. He was also the first of several authors from the UK Commonwealth, who were by far the best performers. In fact, thinking back on all the readings and panel discussions I've attended, I'd say that Commonwealth natives (except Canadians--sorry!) are overwhelmingly better public speakers than Americans. And it's not just because I'm a sucker for an accent.
• Daniel Mendelsohn, who had the loudest and most resonant voice of the autobiographical authors, gave a very expressive and funny reading from THE LOST: A Search for One of Six Million, complete with gestures, facial expressions and a Yiddish accent.
• Terri Jentz read an intense, horrifying account of her near murder from STRANGE PIECE OF PARADISE, which had the audience enthralled. I had a very hard time with it, though, as I'm still suffering from PTSD. If the reading had gone on any longer I would have stopped my ears and/or left the hall. Afterward, an NBCC member said that Jentz should have gotten an award just for surviving. Very true.
  
• After two deadly dull readers, Lawrence Weschler (EVERYTHING THAT RISES: A Book of Convergences) woke us back up by engaging the audience (what a concept!) with wit, humor and that old standy, an expressive voice.
  
• Debby Applegate (THE MOST FAMOUS MAN IN AMERICA: The Biography of Henry Ward Beecher) and Jason Roberts (A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler), besides giving lively readings, were among the few who gave a full sense of the book's subject. Coming away, I actually wanted to, y'know, read the book.
• I could have listened to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's (HALF OF A YELLOW SUN) rich and plummy voice all night. Sure hope she does the audio book herself.
• Kiran Desai, whose THE INHERITANCE OF LOSS was the only one of the 30 I'd read, gave an electric reading, which made me even happier because I LOVED that book.
• Troy Jollimore (TOM THOMSON IN PURGATORY) and Mark Doty, who stood in for W.D. Snodgrass (NOT FOR SPECIALISTS: New & Selected Poems), more than made up for Fried & Emmerich with wit and (once again) expression.
• Simon Schama (ROUGH CROSSINGS: Britain, the Slaves and the American Revolution) and Sandy Tolan (THE LEMON TREE: An Arab, a Jew and the Heart of the Middle East) brought the evening to a close with stirring readings that exemplified their work.

NBCC president John Freeman remarked at the beginning of the evening that there is something magical about a text coming alive through the person who wrote it. Very true--as long as that person can conjure up the magic to make the text come alive. The best of the group did that.