Too late. Ugg, it just now occurs to me that I should have taken a picture of Lucille on Sunday. At 94, she is, without a doubt, the oldest reader of Pearls My Mother Wore. That’s important to me because I had hoped for a wide variety of readers, and it’s happening. Last Sunday I drove up to Davis to present my novel to a group of seniors at a lovely assisted living community, Atria Covell Gardens. My talk went well; that is to say I had no regrets when I was done. I hit all the key points. I didn’t talk too long. And I remembered to speak up so that everybody could hear me.
So when I tell you that I sold books to 50% of the room, you can smile because there were only six people in attendance. It’s all in how you look at it. The book sales covered gas and lunch, but that really doesn’t matter. I’ve discovered that I really like connecting with folks, and the more intimate the gathering, the less nerve wracking it is.
I wasn’t sure how I would be received, but I’m happy to report that I was received with warm appreciation. In my talk, I explained that Kelly was a grieving widow, that her mother was a narcissistic alcoholic, and that Mitchell was a pierced and tattooed trouble maker. I had no idea how those types would go over, but I wanted to make sure they understood what was in the story. It’s easy for pearls to conjure up positive images of sorority sisters, grandma in her Sunday best, or June Cleaver and Jackie O, and I didn’t want to mislead them. I also told them that these characters, flawed as they are, represent what I know to be real. I didn’t need to dream up over-the-top action to convey a heroic journey. Pull back our socially acceptable facades, and nearly all of us have some challenge that requires enormous strength to get through. When I mentioned that I had begun writing in response to, and in rejection of, reality TV’s last-man-standing model for entertainment, the whole room nodded in agreement. I said that I wanted to contribute something to popular culture where the losers were the winners, and smiles appeared on every face.
None of the three who bought copies of Pearls My Mother Wore have anything to do with computers. I was hoping for a way to stay in touch with them through Facebook, e-mails, or this blog. My inquiry on the subject generated an amusing “Oh my goodness no” reply. Even the tall, handsome, elderly gentleman who had been an engineer, scoffed at the notion of having a computer. Dick told me that he wanted to read my novel because, at this stage in his life, he was interested in how words, rather than quantifiable calculations, could express human complexity as I had described it. I was honored.
Lorraine was the other person to buy Pearls, and she is a member of the Atria Book Club (ABC). I’m hoping she will enjoy what she reads and recommend it to the book club. The leader of the book group, Andrea, who suggested I go up to the Davis retirement community in the first place, may also give me a plug. Andrea and I met for the first time last month when we did a Roseville Library event together. Getting picked up by a book club, as far as I know, hasn’t happened yet, but it’s something I’m looking forward to.
Speaking of clubs, Monday was the first Monday of the month, which means I attended my meeting of Left Coast Writers at Book Passage in Marin. Our guest speaker for the night was Roger Housden. He talked about his most resent release, Saved By Beauty: Adventures of an American Romantic in Iran. He’s the author of many (20) books, including his best-selling Ten Poems to Change Your Life series.
Housden’s British accent and bald pate reminded me of a tall Sir Ben Kingsly. I bet he gets that all the time.
Housden
Kingsley
Housden was a captivating speaker. He described the moment when the idea for this book occurred to him. He had been walking through Muir Wood, a magical forest of ancient Redwoods, hadn’t been thinking about anything in particular, just enjoying the splendor, when seemingly out of nowhere three words came into his consciousness; those words were, “the other Iran.” Housden had studied Middle Eastern culture for decades and was deeply versed in Iran’s poetry and literature, art, architecture, music and traditions. While George Bush was referring to Iran as part of “the axis of evil,” Housden understood that the place and its people possessed something vastly different from how it was being portrayed by our president and the media.
Housden jumped on the inspiration to write about “the other Iran” and within a very short amount of time was on an airplane headed for Tehran. While in Iran, he met with filmmakers, writers, artist, and scholars, many of whom were women. The book, Saved by Beauty: Adventures of an American Romantic in Iran, proved to be his most difficult to write, he shared with us at Left Coast Writers. The first draft he scraped entirely. His writing experiences up to that point had always been relatively effortless, but this one was work. His task was to integrate Iran’s dark side, which he encounter when he was detained for several days and accused of being a spy, with its light.
Although Housden is often thought of as a poet, he made it clear that he is a lover of the musicality and richness of words, but he is indeed a prose writer. And so, with exquisite word choice, he unfolds both a secular (outer) and spiritual (inner) journey that concludes in some ways as it started, with inspiration.
Google “Roger Housden” for links to his YouTube video, Chapter 1 which can be read from the scribd.com link, and much more.
Have a great week, and I’ll post again next Friday.