Springtime in New York
On returning to NYC the NBCC awards and what I've been reading and writing
Before I set out…
I seem to only write this newsletter as I’m leaving town. To be fair, I haven’t left town since October 2023 and there’s a reason for that. I’ve been busy. Tomorrow, I’m returning to New York for a whirlwind work trip. As a board member of the National Book Critics Circle, I’ve been working all year for the organization. In addition to working behind the scenes to help produce the awards, over the last year I’ve read in three categories (fiction, poetry, and biography). Since January, I’ve been reading in order to deliberate on these finalists as well others. After much debate this Thursday, we will vote on winners and the awards will be held that evening. If you’re in New York, there are still tickets available for the award ceremony. Wednesday night’s finalist reading is sold out as is our reception after the awards, but come out on Thursday night for the awards or tune in via livestream.
It’s my hope that in the coming months, I’ll have more time to write this newsletter. When I haven’t been hard at work on assignments or NBCC related work, I’ve been reading midlife memoirs (the Deborah Levy trilogy, Claire Dederer’s Love & Trouble, Maggie Smith’s You Could Make this Place Beautiful, and Leslie Jamison’s Splinters) , the first three books of the Chronicles of Narnia, Nancy Lemann’s last two novels (The Fiery Pantheon and Malaise), Ellen Gilchrist’s first collection of short stories (The Land of Dreamy Dreams), and Little Women. I’m reading C.S. Lewis and Louisa May Alcott to my daughters. Last night, I had to set the book aside because Beth has caught scarlet fever and that’s not a comforting story with which to send children off to sleep. It doesn’t sit well to introduce too much trauma before leaving town. As someone who reread Little Men and Jo’s Boys rather than reread Little Women, I need to read ahead to see if we shouldn’t set the book aside for a little while. Do you remember how old you were and what you felt when you first read Little Women? I’d love to know.
My fascination with midlife memoirs is a product of age and a certain contemporary ubiquity. More on that later. I’m still marinating. Another byproduct of midlife is my craving for caustic, funny fiction by Southern women in the last two decades of the twentieth century. No, no Fannie Flagg here, though she did speak at my high school and I did read her in the 1990s as did many of us after watching Fried Green Tomatoes. There’s something frighteningly timeless about these rich Southern women. They’re adrift. They’re idle and haunted. They are consummate observers, but to what end? Part of me wonders how anyone outside the Deep South—but really specifically New Orleans—can fully understand these women. But there’s no denying Nancy Lemann’s wit. It’s the only way you can live among people nostalgia for a dying empire.
I wrote a short Mention about her only nonfiction book The Ritz of the Bayou for the Drift magazine in which I described the book as “a bellwether for contemporary politics.” The appeal of Edwin Edwards fascinates me as does Louisiana’s unhealthy adoration of “charismatic kings over staid leaders.” The book arguably covers the mid-1980s racketeering trial of then Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards. But as central as Edwards and the legal teams protecting and interrogating him, Lemann herself is a fascinating character. Returning home to cover the legal proceedings, she sails around town from the courts to dive bars and hotel bars, making observations, collecting gossip, dancing, and taking notes. As a New Orleanian, I can understand why one would want to head home, but what prompts a writer in Manhattan with a hit debut novel to pick up a press badge and head back home to write nonfiction? Sure, I mean, this was the 1980s and you could land assigned work like this and were paid royally for doing so, but what beyond the story was she looking for?
Along these existential lines, I’m curious to explore the ennui of her fictional heroines. What’s at the heart of it? I’m fascinated by the root of their restlessness as well as their yearning. Where’s there agency? I’m going to reread everything and keep thinking about these aging debutantes. When the world’s on fire, you might as well take a good long look at the place you know the best.
Please say hi if you’re at the National Book Critics Circle awards ceremony or any of the associated events!
Recent work
It’s been a busy year. In case you missed it, I interviewed Natalie Merchant for the Believer magazine’s Music issue last December. Talk about a life long dream, this was initially a response to the 35th anniversary of the 10,000 Maniacs album In My Tribe. Interviewing Natalie Merchant was a dream that I didn’t think was possible.
For the New York Times Book Review, I reviewed Temim Fruchter’s debut novel City of Laughter and the audiobook of Michael Cunningham’s novel Day which was read by none other than Julianne Moore.
For the Boston Globe, I reviewed Lucy Sante’s remarkable memoir I Heard Her Call My Name.
For the Los Angeles Times, I reviewed Maurice Carlos Ruffin’s novel The American Daughters and Vinson Cunningham’s debut novel Great Expectations. Both are outstanding. I also wrote a feature for the Los Angeles Times about a sophomore novel that almost never existed. In order to write about the path to the publication for Katherine Min’s posthumous novel, I spoke with or emailed with Min’s two book editors, the literary agent now representing her estate, Min’s daughter Kayla Min Andrews, wonderful folks at MacDowell, as well as several of Min’s friends and fellow writers along with her former book publicist.
And again, I wrote about Nancy Lemann for a Mention in the Drift’s 12th issue which is on newsstands now.
I think that’s everything? Now, back to packing. It looks like I’ll need to pack many layers. Stay well and warm.