memoir

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A few weeks ago, Leslie and I and our respective husbands went to hear a friend sing Vitello’s in Studio City.  Knowing Portrait of a Bookstore was right across the street, we left the club with 30 minutes to spare before the store closed (love the late night hours at the store!).  How much damage could we do in 30 minutes?  Well, a lot.  Keith bought most of my birthday present, plus books for himself.  After a very convincing pitch from the bookseller, Leslie bought Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress by Susan Jane Gilman, a book that generally would not have attracted either of us.  So much for what we know, here are Leslie’s thoughts on the book:

One of the things I like most about independent bookstores is that the employees (many of whom are owners or invested in the business) are truly big readers. Since I’m assuming none of them are getting rich working there, they must really love books.

When I walk into an independent bookstore, I typically ask “What can you recommend?” This may either be for me or for my two pre-teen daughters. In many cases, my question has been rewarded with wonderful surprises.

Recently, Kim and I, along with our husbands, went to Portrait of a Bookstore, one of my favorite independents, is just across the street from a jazz club we visited. Needless to say, we walked out with books in our arms. Well, actually, the guys carried them.

As usual, the woman that was working that evening was just chock full of recommendations. One of the books that she mentioned was Hypocrite in a Pouffy Dress, a memoir, by Susan Jane Gilman. This is a book, had I simply seen on a shelf, I would never have picked up. I’m really fussy about the non-fiction I Read the rest of this entry »

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Photo by Erin Patrice O'Brien/Corbis Outline

Photo by Erin Patrice O'Brien/Corbis Outline

Several years ago at a dinner party, each of us described how our families were persecuted in their original homeland.  A Chinese friend described the treatment by the Japanese during WWII.  A Korean had her own stories of suffering during the same era.  Our Jewish friends ticked off one pogrom after another.  Then it was my turn, “I’m Irish Protestant, I’m the oppressor!”

My great uncle was the pastor of a large Presbyterian Church in Belfast, so it’s no surprise where my family stood on the Irish conflict.  But, I’m three generations away and tend towards questioning rather than accepting.  When I studied Irish history here’s what I found:  bombings, terrorism, oppression, discrimination, hate, hate, and more hate.   To a Southern California girl it all felt very distant.  And then Frank McCourt wrote Angela’s Ashes.  Frank put a face on the suffering of a country stuck in a cycle of vindictiveness.  We can study the facts of the conflict for the rest of our lives, but Frank showed how it feels for an ordinary family to live it.  If I were teaching a history class, his book would be required reading.

Most of us experienced Frank McCourt as a writer, but a few thousand lucky Stuyvesant High School students learned creative writing from him (can you imagine?).  We have a silent partner on Bookstore People, Colin Summers is our computer genius who keeps the blog going while Claire and I write away.  Truth be told, we can hardly find our blog e-mail without Colin’s help.  Colin was one of Frank’s students and wrote a moving memorial of him on Vanity Fair Online.  Colin shares Frank’s humor and his incredible memory, plus you’ll learn how Colin’s first girlfriend dumped him.

After reading the comments on the NYT’s McCourt article, Claire and I have a new favorite McCourt quote sent in from a former student, Peter A. Geiger:

Frank McCourt was my English teacher in my senior year at Stuyvesant (class of ‘74). He introduced us to African literature such as Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, which sounded even more dramatic in his thick brogue.

When one student asked why we should read this book, what possible use would it be to us in our lives, he answered, “You will read it for the same reason your parents waste their money on your piano lessons. So you won’t be a boring little shite the rest of your life.”

It was the most honest answer to such a question I ever heard from any teacher. Whenever the question came to my head about any subject thereafter I fondly remembered Mr. McCourt and resolved not to be a boring little shite.

The perfect way to memorialize Frank McCourt–try not to be a boring little shite.

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President’s Day is a celebration of two great Presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.  Moreover, President Lincoln, the man our current President calls his role model, was born two hundred years ago today.  I’m joyfully awash with all of the Lincoln information I’ve read and heard about in the last week.  At the end of this post, there are links to music, book reviews, the Abraham Lincoln bookshop and a beautiful tribute.  So many adult books on Lincoln were published recently, it’s hard to keep up with them.  I’m going a different route for this Recommended Reading post.  I’m focusing on a recently published children’s picture book, Mr. Lincoln’s Boys written by Staton Rabin and illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline, and Tad Lincoln’s Father, a memoir published 70 years ago by Julia Taft Bayne. Read the rest of this entry »

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