How a Community Makes a Book

I first met writer and literary journalist Robert Gray when I was Editor-in-Chief of Carroll & Graf Publishers and he worked at the splendid Northshire Bookstore in Manchester Center, Vermont. I loved that his email address at the time incorporated the phrase “marbleman,” as a personal homage to Vermont’s marble quarrying. We both later moved on but kept in touch, especially after he became a regular contributor to the daily book world read Shelf Awareness, and I started curating and writing The Great Gray Bridge. Robert’s pieces for Shelf Awareness are published under the rubric, “Deeper Understanding.”

Recently, I let Robert know about Rust Belt Chic: A Cleveland Anthology to which I’d contributed an essay, hoping the DIY energy that produced the book would appeal to him, and that he might want to cover it in his column. He took the opportunity to heart and today published a great piece, “Self-Pub, Sense of Place & Concentric Circles,” with passages like this:

“When you want to know about a place, ask the people who live there. When you want to read about a place, read the writers whose words reveal more than just the surface of a region’s past and present. What does that have to do with self-publishing? This: For a bookseller considering the possibility of stocking a self-published book, one reliable sign of a winner is a title with a tangible sense of place. Whether or not such a book eventually finds readers beyond the region, it must begin at the center–a pebble dropped in a local pond–before concentric retail sales circles can spread. In their introduction . . . editors Richey Piiparinen and Anne Trubek describe the project as “a community effort to tell the story of a city.” And that’s just what it is.” 

Later, Robert generously mentions my essay, “Remembering Mr. Stress, Live at The Euclid Tavern,” linking to an expanded version of it on this blog. I invite you to read Robert’s entire piece at this Shelf Awareness link, and my piece if you haven’t yet. Robert’s past columns can also be found at his website, Fresh Eyes Now.

I should add that the Nook, Apple, and Kindle ebook editions of Rust Belt Chic are currently being sold in their respective digital stores for the terrific price of $2.99 (link for Nook storeITunes store, and Kindle store). Finally, I’m also happy to report that the first Rust Belt Chic event in the NYC area is coming up, Thursday, January 3 in Brooklyn at Public Assembly. I’ll be there to read, as will other northern Ohio transplants in the NYC area. It would be great to see you there!

Mayhem Takes a Holiday

Earlier this week, TV station NY1 reported that

“The New York City Police Department says not a single murder, shooting, stabbing or slashing was reported in the five boroughs on Monday. . . .Police officials could not say when they last saw a similar crime-free streak.”

Not to be glib about this good news, but hearing it I was reminded of the terrific 1934 film, “Death Takes a Holiday,” directed by Mitchell Leisen and with Frederic March cast as the figure of Death who pays an incognito visit to the human realm for a weekend, during which he becomes the house guest of a wealthy man and falls in love with his beautiful daughter. Over these days, it emerges in radio news bulletins that people have simply stopped dying. The usual mayhem–shipwrecks, car wrecks, personal vendettas–have unaccountably stopped leading  to the demise of even a single human being. As the weekend ebbs, the wealthy man realizes just who his strange guest is and it dawns on him that the romance with his daughter will inevitably lead to her being taken from him when Death returns to his spectral realm. As the engrossing plot unfolds, the older man pleads with Death to spare her and take him instead, and events spiral to a dramatic climax.

There is a small but sturdy sub-genre of films that personify Death. Among these are Ingmar Bergman’s “The Seventh Seal,” with Max Von Sydow costumed as a black-clad knight who plays chess against Death, hoping to forestall his inevitable demise for as long as their match continues. The black & white cinematography imbues this 1957 classic with unforgettable mood and atmosphere.

Another film of this sort that I admire is A Matter of Life and Death, directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger (I keep a link to an archive/fan site for this titanic duo on my personal blogroll in the right rail on this website) with David Niven playing a WWII pilot whose airplane is hit by anti-aircraft fire. During his lethal descent toward earth, he talks to and falls in love with a female radio operator–played by Kim Hunter–only to somehow survive the fiery wreck. Turns out that the representative of the deathly realm who was supposed to usher Niven to the beyond has been derelict in his duty. Under pain of penalty by heavenly authorities this sad sack angel must atone for his malpractice and reclaim the pilot, who says, basically, “Nothing doing, you’ve had your chance.”

While I recognize that New York City’s holiday from mayhem was bound to be shortlived, I’m grateful for the welcome respite we experienced this week, and for the fact that it reminded me of these great movies.