Summer Reading

Well, August was a blur, but I did tuck in some good reading over the summer. I usually try to keep up with my boys and their required reading, while I sneak in a few of my own preferences.

I had never read The Hound of the Baskervilles, but always found Sherlock Holmes in his PBS and movie renditions so entertaining. Now I see the true talent of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In this world of connections, this classic was referenced in my freshman son's summer required reading, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, by Mark Haddon. That's two down. We both gave up on Robinson Crusoe, sorry Mr. Defoe.

As fully expected, I had trouble with the subject matter of The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien, but I see why he is acclaimed for his storytelling. He calmly conveys honesty and emotion as he recounts the horrors he lived. Plus, it is always wise to be reminded of the horrors of war as we teeter on the brink of another one. War tactics, strategy, equipment, and rationale are constantly changing. But the losses inflicted are a constant.

For my 6th grader, it was fun joining the adventures in The London Eye Mystery and Wonder: Two very different stories told from the stark perspective of uniquely gifted (or handicapped, depending on how you look at them) children, written by authors (Siobhan Dowd and R.J. Palacio, respectively) with great talents for teaching perspective through child narrative.

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain, is one of my own choices and, though only part of the way through, I am finding that it is shedding an amazing light on my own DNA.

One of my sisters gave me Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Coast Trail, by Cheryl Strayed, and it propelled me into plans of my own future hikes, toward or away from things. I followed it up with Bill Bryson's always-hilarious A Walk in the Woods to get a coast-to-coast view of the value of getting off the grid.

I recommend these all, but the best book I read this summer was one I rescued from my parents' shelf: King of the Wind: The Story of the Godolphin Arabian, by Marguerite Henry. Better known for her stories of Misty of the Chincoteague, Henry had only recently teamed with horse illustrator extraordinaire, Wesley Dennis, when this book was published in 1948. Two rather magical auras surround the book in my possession. First of all, I lobbed the idea to my two youngest sons that I would read it to them because it had been my favorite. They humored me by agreeing and then became mesmerized by the story, begging me to read more. This can't possibly happen again. At ages 11 and 14, they won't possibly want me to read to them next summer, maybe not even next month!

The other aura surrounding the book is my re-discovery that it had been my dad's childhood book and had been signed by the author. Those facts had escaped me since my childhood. Where did he go for the book signing? How long did he wait in line? He was all of 12 years old at the publishing. Was it a family affair? Did he bring his kid brother along? Did they wear their cowboy hats and holsters? Why else would Mrs. Henry have added a hand-drawn horseshoe to her signature? It was certainly not the then-46-year-old author's first book signing, but I wonder how she felt at the time. The beautifully illustrated paper cover of my copy wore away years ago, leaving only the rich red hardcover. Its funny little book plate has a squirrel perched on a sign among leaves and reads: "This Book is from the Hoard of Jack McCarthy. Read Thoughtfully, Handle Carefully, Return Promptly." Done. If you have never read King of the Wind and if you ever loved horses, watercolor paintings, and good storytelling, I promise, you will enjoy this book at any age.

Do you have any book recommendations from your summer reading? Happy Fall!

Coming Home

As a teen in suburban Cleveland, I spent most summer nights sleeping on our second-floor, screened-in porch, on an aluminum cot with a thin foam mattress and a sheet - to escape the heat of my bedroom. My bedroom, which I shared with my older sister, would absorb the heat of the afternoon sun for 6 hours and hold and multiply it. No fan could dislodge the heat that hung in the air and air conditioning was not an option, so the porch became my summer bedroom. 

We lived about 100 yards from railroad tracks where freight trains rode day and night from Midwest loading docks to the East Coast and back, carrying cars, ore, grain, and steel. They weren't the polite commuter trains like the ones I now live near, with orderly schedules, 4 or 5 shock-absorbing cars, and an 11pm curfew. But thundering streams of 20 or more cars whose whistles you could hear coming in the distance, whose weight shook the ground as they road by. As monstrous and scary as they were in the daytime, they became the railway lullaby of lore in the night, lulling me to sleep with their muffled chu-chunk as each car passed over the rail seam.

I returned to that memory last week as I listened to the night trains from our summer cottage rental in Huron, OH. That annual vacation is always a "coming home" for me and the night trains are a revisited comfort I never would have anticipated in my teens.

I felt the same sense of "coming home" as I sat at my first book signing event last Thursday in Joseph-Beth Booksellers at the main Cleveland Clinic campus. It is hard to describe, but the warmth and interest people showed as I described my book reminded me of my own continued belonging to this city I left 27 years ago. The book signing was a great experience, with the store manager describing it as one of their most successful signings, inviting me to return for a repeat performance next time I'm in town. It was validation of the audience I have sought - finding readers who can relate not just to Esther Miller's story, but to the city that was the backdrop of her adult life. 

First book signing of Preacher Kid

The author table was set up at the entrance to the store, flanked by candles and aromatherapy products (and socks!) - providing a welcome calm to help me fend off the jitters. There was a pretty steady stream of customers in this store in a city-within-a-city: Some looking specifically for a book, some browsing to kill time at the Clinic, and others who hadn't considered buying a book until they noticed my table. It was a fun marketing experiment from which I learned a great deal and had the added benefits of my aunt by my side, my sisters and niece making a surprise appearance, and a cameo from my high school friend, Marcia, who can turn any ordinary event into a comedy routine.

I wish I had 20 more signings in Ohio! I'll have to work on that - all assistance welcome! But last week's event was a great kick-off to my slow motion book tour!

Slow Motion Book Tour

It has been about seven months since I published the first run of Preacher Kid and one thing that has not dissipated over those months is my nervousness over “putting myself out there.” I have always enjoyed being a behind-the-scenes worker, playing supportive roles, not seeking the spotlight. In my illustrious business career, I have developed decent presentation skills by accepting the requirement of a marketing manager who must present ideas, status, conclusions, strategic plans, and product demonstrations to audiences large and small. But that aspect of the job description has never been an area of great comfort for me. The best feeling I get out of presenting is the relief that rolls over me when I'm done.

From a certain angle, Preacher Kid is one long, continuous presentation – up to this point, made mostly behind the Internet's curtain of anonymity. Even so, I stress regularly at the thought that maybe my writing skills are not really worthy of publishing or at the fact that, stubbornly acting as my own editor, I missed many typos, having read the draft so many times that I could no longer see it. I really do know the difference between “where” and “were!” In fact, I currently get paid to copy/edit. My co-worker even gave me a coffee mug with a spelling rule emblazoned on it, in thanks for my respected grammar-girl role in the department.

But editing copy under a deadline of a few hours is very different than proofing the manuscript I developed as a labor of love for 7 years. Thank goodness for self-publishing, its on-demand printing, and the option to re-submit files with a 24-hour turn-around.

The curtain will open this month as I participate in my first book signing, which takes place on Thursday, July 25th at Joseph-Beth Booksellers in Cleveland (11:00am to 2:00pm). I imagined a modest book tour when I first published Preacher Kid – one involving a trip to each of the nine Ohio towns and cities lived in by Esther Miller. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time or resources to take that tour at this stage in my life. So my dream book tour will take place in slow motion, with a start this month and future stops to be determined! I contacted one independent book store in Cleveland (chosen because it had been my mom's favorite bookstore when it was located out on Cedar Road) and they said “yes.” Should I have contacted more? Yes. Do I think other bookstores would be interested? Yes. But I will have to test that theory some other time. Right now, I am only willing to give up one day of my family vacation in Ohio for the book!

So I will bring my box of books and my “favorite pens” (the bookstore's recommendation) with me to Ohio and step onto the tiny stage. Any book-signing advice you can offer me is most welcome. My crew at home has set me up with the advice to bring a crossword puzzle to work on! Thanks for the vote of confidence! If you are in the Cleveland area on July 25th, please come say hello between 11 and 2. I will be the one at the table with the pens and the nervous smile. And no crossword puzzle.