First Impressions of the National Book Festival

If anything good came out of the eight-year Bush administration it was librarian Laura's decision to create the National Book Festival! What a glorious celebration of reading and literacy. Watching so many families, of every make and model, thrilling at the chance to meet writers and buy books lifts the heart of this librarian every time. Of course, I'm most proud of the festival that I actually had a hand in - patting my own back now - my own library system's Southwest Florida Reading Festival. www.readfest.org

Needless to say, having all the resources of Washington, DC, and the Library of Congress goes a long way to insuring attendance by the finest writers in the land. This year was no exception. The move from the national mall to the Walter Washington Convention center, which saddened me for just a moment or two, has proved to be inspired. Huge ballrooms accommodate the crowds and video will soon be posted on www.loc.gov/bookfest



I had planned my day carefully, fully expecting the women whose writing inspires me, Lousie Erdrich and Marilynne Robinson, to be the pinnacle of the event. Instead, it was the men who shined. Perhaps it was the format, which we've used at our own festival at some authors' request, but it seemed stilted. Many authors do not want the pressure of giving a half hour address and prefer the Q and A, interview approach.



The interviewers in this case were experienced, thoughtful, and prepared, yet the writers seemed to hold back emotionally. Marie Arana, former editor of the "Washington Post Book World," interviewed Erdrich who received this year's award for the body of her work. Erdrich's genealogical background includes Ojibwe Indian and that native culture informs much of her work. Her latest novel (2012), "The Round House," was a stunning piece of literature which I reviewed here: http://bit.ly/1qD3Xbl

Though Arana had to drag it out of her, Erdrich did speak a little bit about some of the wonderful secondary characters who emerged from this novel, also getting her to admit that there is another book about these interesting, complex people forthcoming. Whew! I couldn't help but think that Erdrich hadn't had enough coffee yet.

Robinson on the other hand, was just plain stingy. Ron Charles, who I often mention as one of the finest reviewers working today, also at the "Washington Post," tried valiantly to elicit some kind of emotion from the Pulitzer Prize winner, to the consternation of the audience. He asked several open-ended questions that she shut down with single word answers and at one point, when Charles posited a particularly probing query, Robinson actually said,

"That's a good question."

To which he replied, "Good, because I'm dying up here."

The audience roared in sympathy.

Now I understand that writing is a solitary endeavor. I'm sure that many writers find the required book tours daunting. As introverts, they likely feel uncomfortable touting their books like carnival barkers. I get that. If you read any of Ms. Robinson's incredible works you'll gather that she's hardly an extrovert. Even her writing is quiet. I reviewed her most recent book "Lila," here: http://bit.ly/1QkuA0h

But, if one accepts a speaking engagement, then I believe that person has an obligation to the hundreds of fans who get up early, drive 45 minutes to the metro, spend another half hour on the train, to be inspiring, to be engaging, to be present. And that, unfortunately, was just not the case Saturday.

Tomorrow, though, I'll tell you about the men who knocked my socks off: Phil Klay, Marlon James, Bryan Stephenson, and Viet Than Nguyen, kudos to you!

Marilynne Robinson, So Quiet Yet So Powerful

Some readers are only in it for the thrill of the chase. Their novels need to move at the speed of light, keep them guessing til the end, give them an adrenalin rush. I'd never say that isn't fun but I've found that, as I'm aging, my tastes tend toward more ruminative literature. Marilynne Robinson's National Book Award finalist, "Lila," (she lost to the devastating short story collection "Redeployment" by Phil Klay), is one such ruminative novel.

Though it is a prequel to her Pulitzer Prize winning "Gilead," it can be read and thoroughly enjoyed on its own. I will, however, defy you, once you finish it, not to want to go back to read how the story of Lila and Rev. Ames plays out. Gilead is the tiny Iowa town where Rev. John Ames has lived and nurtured souls for most of his life. His first wife and only child are buried there. His existence since their untimely deaths has been filled with prayer, reading, and weekly visits with his intellectual sparring partner and childhood friend, "old Boughton", also a minister.

In fact, until he spotted Lila, sodden with rain, dressed in rags, and more than a little rough around the edges, sitting in a pew in his church, he may not have admitted to the deep well of loneliness that afflicted him. The improbable, immediate connection he feels with Lila frightens and shames him. The gap between the ages of Rev. Ames and this itinerant farm worker is formidable, the intellectual gap, one might assume, is even more daunting.

There is little physical action in this haunting novel but oh, the stimulating interior monologue as we listen in on the thoughts, questions, and hopes of Lila and John Ames, is extremely powerful. Excruciatingly slowly, they gravitate toward each other, building a tentative trust that we worry, from what we learn of Lila's past through her reminiscences, could dissolve at any time. Though she has seen the worst of human nature, she has also known the singular love of Doll, the woman who rescued her from orphanhood and raised her to be a street smart survivor.

Ms. Robinson's work is steeped in biblical quotes and verses but non-believers should not be put off. It is heartening and fascinating to listen to Rev. Ames' honest, humorous, and deeply felt responses to the unchurched Lila as he tries to explain the unexplainable mysteries of faith. The topics they tackle, the very meaning of existence, are those that all thinking people contemplate.  Thoughtful readers will feel great joy at being let in on the conversation.