Reviews of favorite books

Writing Craft: Art & Fear by D. Bayles & T. Orland

6/28/2024

One of my deep-seated fears is that I’ll never be good enough. The authors of Art & Fear say: “our flaws and weaknesses, while often obstacles to our getting work done, are a source of strength as well. Something about making art [requires] overcoming things”
Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking is written by two long-term visual artists and educators, David Bayles and Ted Orland.
My dear friend Danny Houk gifted me this book, and I revisited it recently as part of my quest to embrace my fears around writing. I found it encouraging and actionable.

The authors suggest: “Artists get better by sharpening their skills or by acquiring new ones; they get better by learning to work and by learning from their work.”
Learning from our work implies that “mistakes” are an inevitable and valuable part of the process: “The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars.”
“Once you have found the work you are meant to do, the particulars of any single piece don’t matter that much.” In other words: “Make art you care about—and lots of it!”

Some core concepts of the book:

Artmaking involves skills that can be learned.
[Artistic] talent is rarely distinguishable, over the long run, from perseverance and lots of hard work.
[Live] your life in such a way that your work gets done, over and over [because]…you learn to make your work by making your work
[Writing] craft is the vehicle for expressing your vision…your job as an artist is to push craft to its limits.
Over the long run, the people with the interesting answers are those who ask the interesting questions.

On perfectionism:
“[Your] humanity is the ultimate source of your work; your perfection denies you the very thing you need to get your work done.” They suggest that our human flaws are our greatest assets: “becoming an artist consists of learning to accept yourself, which makes your work personal, and in following your own voice, which makes your work distinctive.”
In fact, they indicate that our mistakes and imperfections fuel our future work. “Such imperfections…are your guides…to matters you need to reconsider or develop further.”

On seeking external approval:
"courting approval…puts a dangerous amount of power in the hands of the audience. [And] the audience is seldom in a position to grant (or withhold) approval on the one issue that really counts—namely, whether or not you’re making progress in your work.”
They note: “The discouraging truth is that the rest of the world neither cares whether you make art, nor has much interest in buying it if you do.”
Ultimately, we create for the joy of creating.

On Manifesting ideas into reality:
“Between the initial idea and the finished piece lies a gulf we can see across, but never fully chart. The truly special moments in art-making lie in those moments when concept is converted to reality.”
They quote Stanley Kunitz:
“The poem in the head is always perfect. Resistance begins when you try to convert it into language.”

Tips for creating:

Ask your work what it needs, not what you need. Then set aside your fears and listen, the way a good parent listens to a child.
The only work really worth doing—the only work you can do convincingly—is the work that focuses on the things you care about.
[You can choose] between giving your work your best shot and risking that it will not make you happy, or not giving it your best shot—and thereby guaranteeing that it will not make you happy.
The only voice you need is the voice you already have.

If you’re seeking a wise, kind-hearted guide to embracing your creative process, give Art & Fear a read.

More on writing fears: Embracing Fear and my reviews of The Courage to Write and Fearless Writing.

Nonfiction: The Imposter Heiress by Annie Reed

6/22/2024

The Imposter Heiress is a biography of the “Queen of Cons” that reads like a court-room thriller.
The book features Cassie Chadwick, “the greatest grifter of the Gilded Age”—or perhaps any age. She amassed a stunning fortune posing as the illegitimate daughter of the richest man in the world, Andrew Carnegie.
We watch Cassie evolve as a con artist throughout the book, crafting bigger and bigger schemes, until she is swindling dozens of bankers and lawyers. Believing her to be Andrew Carnegie’s illegitimate daughter, these men fall over themselves to offer the 'feather-headed heiress' loans, greedily counting the exorbitant interest they’ll receive when the loans come due.

Author Annie Reed does a fabulous job putting us into the story from the opening scene in the opulent Holland House Hotel:
“Delicate silver frosted the ceiling overhead. Marble imported from Sienna glossed the floors, the walls, the steps of the grand staircase. Ornate balustrades stood sentinel over the guests’ comings and goings.”

We’re also given an inside glimpse into Cassie's mansion, typical of the Gilded Age ultra-wealthy: ruby-studded silver dining plates, mahogany cabinets, lamps of silver and bronze and silk, a dog collar made of pearls.
Cassie’s wardrobe was equally elaborate: “She bought gowns of sumptuous black velvet, of pale pink taffeta, of silk and lace and chiffon. . . . She encased her hands and neck in furs, like some wild thing reclaiming its pelt.”

Part of the story is told from Andrew Carnegie’s point of view. He devoted himself to creating a public persona of an upstanding philanthropist, which was jeopardized when Cassie’s ruse hit the newspapers. Suddenly Carnegie was hounded relentlessly by the press, wanting to know if the salacious rumors were true. He became determined to put the matter to rest, whatever it took.
The author expertly weaves the threads of these two storylines: flamboyant Cassie posing as the Carnegie heiress and stern Andrew Carnegie’s attempts to discredit her once he discovers her ploy. Other bankers and lawyers are also closing in, creating a real nail-biter. I was riddled with anxiety watching Cassie spend the loan money on more and more extravagant luxuries, wondering how she could possibly keep juggling all her intrigues—and yet rooting for her to continue pulling off the impossible.

After repeatedly reinventing herself and escaping the consequences of her outrageous crimes, the reader is left guessing the final outcome of Cassie’s story until the final chapter.
From the author’s epilogue: “a woman could nod along distractedly, agreeing to outrageous loan terms, while emptying your bank account. Just because a woman’s head was filled with thoughts of jewels and furs didn’t mean that it was empty of everything else.”

The Imposter Heiress is bound to be a book-club favorite with its fluid writing style, larger-than-life characters, and insightful portrayal of gender roles and power dynamics in the Gilded Age.
Highly recommended.
Bonus: Watch author Annie Reed's soldout book launch at Left Bank Books!

Memoir: Three Weeks with My Brother

6/13/2024

Three Weeks with My Brother, by Nicholas Sparks and Micah Sparks, weaves a dual narrative of an around-the-world trip and the family history of two brothers. The younger, Nicholas, is the best-selling author of The Notebook. He is driven to succeed but desperately needs to rebalance his life priorities. His older brother, Micah, is an irrepressible daredevil who has lost his faith.
The family saga was the strongest element of the book. We learn of the boys’ many youthful adventures (most instigated by Micah), and their reverence for their vibrant mother, erratic father, and saintly younger sister.
Their family was desperately poor for much of their upbringing, which made a lasting impression on Micah, who became driven to achieve financial success later in life.

One of my favorite anecdotes was of their father driving through the rain and telling the kids to close their eyes. He would make the rain cease by shouting “Stop” as the car hit an underpass and the rain briefly abated. His “magic” was only strong enough to stop the rain for the duration of the underpass.

The family dynamics were fascinating. Micah was always testing his parents and getting into trouble at school. Nicholas felt invisible as the middle child and became an overachiever, getting good grades and participating in sports. He talked Micah into joining the cross-country team with him, which was a turning point in his older brother’s life, as it gave Micah camaraderie and success (the team qualified for the state championship).
As the youngest and only girl, their younger sister received much of their parent’s attention. She was portrayed similar to the angelic Beth March of Little Women, and like Beth developed a life-threatening illness.

The authors do a great job setting up the strong emotional ties within this family, so that when tragedy strikes (as it does, repeatedly), the reader also experiences the blow of grief and loss. This was the most powerful aspect of the book.

Less effective was Nicholas’s emotional pain over his son’s failure to mature along typical developmental benchmarks. I have friends with children who do not conform to typical “norms.” They’re great kids, and his inability to accept and celebrate his son was disappointing.
Nicholas details how Micah enjoys playing with this nephew and always asks after him—conveying this as a special attribute of Micah and complaining bitterly of other adults who ignored his son.
The reader observes Nicholas and his wife taking the boy to one specialist after another, until Nicholas decides to single-handedly accelerate his son’s development in time to enroll him in kindergarten.
Every parent must make their own choices and it’s natural to want children to be their best selves, but his emphasis on fixing his son seemed prejudicial bordering on abusive, although it had the desired outcome of mainstreaming the boy.

The adventure half of the story chronicles their journey around the globe to see archeological marvels: Mayan ruins in Guatemala, Machu Picchu (Peru), Easter Island, Ayers Rock (Australia), Angkor Wat and the Killing Fields (Cambodia); the Taj Mahal (India), the rock cathedrals of Ethiopia, ancient temples in Malta, and a dogsled tour to see the northern lights in Norway.

The two young men (in their late thirties) have many sublime experiences on their tour, including invasive jungles and howler monkeys in Guatemala, stunning sunsets over Easter Island, and humbling awe observing the rock cathedrals in Ethiopia and the Taj Mahal in India. I enjoyed vicariously traveling along with the authors, but was bothered by their lack of respect for the cultures behind these wonders. Micah repeatedly tried to take pictures centering himself in the ancient tombs, oblivious to the tour guides' distress over him desecrating their ancient ancestors.
Similarly, the two men grew bored visiting the many museums on their tour and ridiculed the archeologist guides’ fascination with “jars and bowls.” Played for laughs, this immature attitude toward the professionals hired to enrich their tour was the book’s main weakness.

It is in the moments of quiet reflection during the tour that the two men are their most appealing. Together they try to make sense of the tragedies that befell their family and how to better live their adult lives. Micah seems to come away with a renewed sense of faith or at least a willingness to attend church with his wife again. Nicholas discovers the roots of his need to overachieve and an understanding of the importance of balance in his life.
The enduring love between these two brothers and the way they support each other is a definite strength of Three Weeks with My Brother and makes it worth reading.

Fiction: Dead Country by Max Gladstone

6/6/2024

Dead Country is a fantasy novel set in a semi-futuristic desert reminiscent of the American Southwest. The main character is a Craftswoman, Tara, who wields magic through spells as exacting as a legal contract and with similar boundary-defining properties. Tara is an accomplished necromancer living in the big city who returns home to the small town of Edgemont after her father dies.
Tara was run out of Edgemont as a child for misusing her magical talents. The emotional heart of the novel is Tara dealing with small-town prejudice, her father’s death, and memories of an abusive teacher.
Her main ally is a handsome townie, Conner, who spends his free time in glass canyons of the deadlands. She also reluctantly takes on an apprentice, Dawn, who survived a raider attack.

The conflict ramps up when the raiders attack Edgemont and Tara is tainted by the raiders' cursed magic while defending the town. The raiders themselves are a cross between the bad guys in Mad Max and zombies who must be utterly destroyed or they keep coming.

One of my favorite parts of the story is when Tara and her apprentice Dawn, with the help of townie Conner, work on strengthening the protective boundaries of the town against a second raider attack. To be accurate, they must know all they can of the land, which means learning many of the town’s closely guarded secrets.
When the raiders do attack, Tara has prepared some surprises. This sequence reminded me of so many fun martial arts and adventure movies where the underdog heroes outsmart their rivals, like the final fight in Conan the Barbarian. The struggle against the raiders in this book has a surprising outcome that sets up the final confrontation.

I greatly enjoyed Tara’s descriptions of the Craft for her apprentice:

“Beings tend to see minds only in beings like themselves—rocks, naturally, think only rocks can talk, and they’re right, at timescales meaningful to rock.”
“Gods emerge from the interaction of soulstuff in a community, so long as there’s a kind of space for them, made by individuals’ imaginative surrender to something greater. That space is what we call faith.”

In the climax, Tara confronts the legacy of her abusive teacher. Her apprentice Dawn speaks to Tara’s strength of spirit surviving a small town and an abusive teacher:

“You fought them, all of them. You made a world for yourself. You did not let them tell you who you were. You did not surrender.”

But Tara denies that she has any special “Chosen One” qualities:

“I’m not special, Dawn. I was hurt. I worked hard. I was lucky.”

Overall, the novel is superbly written with plot twists that feel both surprising and inevitable.
I was privileged to interact with Max Gladstone in my Writing the Other class. He is at the top of his craft in Dead Country.

Writing Craft: Art & Fear by D. Bayles & T. Orland

Nonfiction: The Imposter Heiress by Annie Reed

Memoir: Three Weeks with My Brother

Fiction: Dead Country by Max Gladstone

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