The Reader - by Bernhard Schlink

This tale about a young  man's coming of age is surprisingly woven into a jarring Holocaust trial. Michael Berg meets Hannah by accident. He is 15, she is older. She is an unlikeable sexual teacher to a young boy grasping for attention he doesn't receive at home. The first half of the book follows their love affair and perfectly details a young boy's emotional hurricane as his mistress toys with his heart.
As Michael matures and begins law school he is seated in the audience of a Holocaust trail. The accussed? Hannah. Michael follows the trial to it's conclusion and his life is forever changed by the experience.
This was an Oprah pick which I didn't realize until I just googled it. It isn't one of her more sappy choices. The story is about remaining strong yet allowing forgiveness where none may be deserved.
This one could be a keeper so I'd suggest you buy it.

On we go...

In an effort to not worry about whether the most forward thinking and clearly most brillant agent in the world will take me on as I client I have begun (or gone back to working on) a new novel. I am posting the epilogue (though epilogues are generally looked down upon) before editing it to give my multitude of readers (hi MJ, hi Susie) an idea of what a novel starts with in the hopes that I will finish and you'll see how completely it is changed.

Feedback is always welcome as are FANS!! (see become a fan button, please!)

And Because....

Epilogue


I was sitting around a campfire with friends enjoying a heated but friendly political exchange when my friend John said, “Hey wait! Did you guys just hear that?”

Being a mature group of 30ish adults we immediately assumed a Jason like being was lurking in the woods waiting to chop us to bits so we quickly fell silent and listened; hard.

“I didn’t hear anything, “ I finally said feeling it my duty to rescue John who was now looking a little sheepish at having staunched the flow of conversation for what amounted to nothing.

“I’m telling you I heard something BIG in the woods over there,” John said hoping the addition of a size descriptor might help in the group’s auditory effort.

“Yeah, I think I heard it too,” said Brian, my neighbor who had been working all day and was just glad to be relaxing with a cold beer.

“Anyway,” I said as I raised my eyebrows and looked to Brian’s left at his Rebecca. “You were saying?” Rebecca had been proselytizing about how the nation had made a huge mistake by voting for Obama.

“Right,” she said as she jumped back into her monologue. “Obama just let those prisoners out of Guantanamo without having any kind of plan. Where did he think they would go? Where…”

John sprang from his chair interrupting Rebecca, “See? Did you see that?”

“I did! It’s big alright,” said Brian. Whether this was to agree with John for the sake of it or whether he actually heard a BIG noise I’ll never know.

Both men got up and slowly started to tiptoe while trying to look manly (which is all but impossible). They pranced over to the tenuously constructed wooden lean to that was the home of my haphazardly stacked firewood. They got about five feet from the lean to and paused; heads tiled toward the wood listening.

Rebecca and I gave each other a quick eye roll and took the opportunity to refill our plastic wineglasses. This act apparently was too “loud” for the men who immediately started wagging their hands and ssshhhing at us.

A faint rustling could actually be heard. Rebecca and I looked at each other in surprise. The noise was distinct but clearly not coming from the woodpile. It seemed to originate from a plastic bin I used to store kindling wood. Based on the noise we were all now hearing it was clear that the creature making the noise was not so much BIG as very small. John and Brian, relieved that they weren’t going to have to battle the famed New England Lion approached the plastic bin with renewed swagger.

“Oh look,” said John as he flung pieces of wood from the bin toward the wood pile.

“It’s a baby mouse,” said Brian leaning over the bin.

“Oh!” said Rebecca as she got up to look. Rebecca was a lover of all animals both small and disgusting. It was only democrats she couldn’t stand.

“Well, get rid of it!” I said. I may have followed that with a religious epithet directed at John but it doesn’t add to the story so better left unsaid.

Once all of the kindling had been flung from the bin John tipped the bin slowly in my direction, most likely in retaliation for the previously mentioned epithet. The mouse started skittering out of the bin and I lifted my legs making a clear path under the bench into the woods behind me.

To my right the fire blazed and flickered in it’s cobblestone cave. The mouse, as mice do, darted to the left and to the right as it approached my bench and then, against all logical reason, ran directly into the fire.

“Aahhhh!!” I screamed before I could help it.

A huge intake of breath could be heard from the group at large. We all stared into the fire aghast.

“Why would he do that? I asked expecting some logical explanation.

“Maybe he was cold?” joked Brian.

“But that was just so stupid,” I said.

“It was a mouse, they aren’t that smart,” said John sitting back down and taking a sip of his beer.

“I know but…” I said stopping when I realized everyone else had lost interest in the suicidal mouse.

While the others picked up the political discourse I continued to ponder the fate of the mouse. I wasn’t sure why it was bothering me so much, I’m not a lover of animals and certainly have no use for mice but it was so clearly the wrong decision.

Then it came to me. We all make decisions we wish we hadn’t. The smallest things we do can change our lives. Take a right instead of a left, buy a coffee instead of a tea, go the grocery store instead of the post office. The most mundane activities can change the course of our lives and we can’t do a damn thing about it.

Making a literary life

I just finished reading Making A Literary Life by Carolyn See (pub. 2002, Random House) based on a tiny mention in a Maine Literary newspaper I picked up at the seven minute speed dating style pitch session. This book reminded me of the reason I started writing in the first place - pleasure, not fame or money.
As I strove to finish it (among throwing up children and, eventually, a vomiting husband) I decided to take whatever response came from the hold out second agent in stride. I would not burst into tears as I did when the first - the one I truly believed I belonged with  - said no. I would see the message, open it and deal with it. Again.
So there I was wtih three hours sleep at the library with Alexis reading through the Webster's unabridged dictionary (she loves that thing though it weighs about 15 pounds). I checked the crackberry and there it was. I debated not opening it knowing that as much as I told myself I didn't care I really did. I clicked. She wanted the rest of the manuscript!
I swear to God I made that weird noise I have only made one other time in my life - the time a live elk almost jumped on my head! Lexi was freaked until she saw the smile swallow my whole face.
"What Mom did someone buy the book?" she asked. (This is how annoying I've been about working on the book lately).
No, honey they haven't bought the book but we're one step closer - one tiny step for Mom one giant leap for Mom-kind.

Making a Literary Life - Carolyn See
I can not tell you how great this book is if you are a writer. The subtitle is 'Advice for writers and other dreamers' but I think you must write to enjoy this book. Some of her wisdom will truly help me in the future - including the chapter on "Magazines, Grants, and Fun with the Tax Man". Who knew you could write off dinner parties because it may be fodder for your future writing, or travel - don't believe me? - apparently Arthur Miller went to court over this.
Her style is easy, her advice wise but not over-bearing. I've been trying to follow her 1,000 word a day advice but it's tough, it really is but she lets us off saying we don't need to catch up if we miss a day - thank you Carolyn! I've written a charming note to an agent from whom I got a rejection and, indeed, I do feel better, if not virtuous. But I've never been acussed of virtuousness so I'll live.

The Wrong Mother - Sophie Hannah

As expected I LOVED this book! All of a mother's worst thoughts about childrearing come to life as diary entries. It turns out, though, that the diary isn't the main character Sally's but belongs to the wife of the man she had an affair with.

Sally was drowning in car pools, snack times and play dough when her boss scheduled her for a business trip. At first she assumed she couldn't do it but after her laid back husband suggests she "could" do it she starts to embrace the trip. So much that when it's canceled she decides to go and not tell anyone. She gets caught up in her naughty behavior and has an affair with a man staying at the hotel.  When she returns home she is rested and relaxed until a month later when she hears her lover's name on the television. She turns around to see what's happened only to realize the man on the tv isn't the man she met. Then the fun begins. A wife is dead, a detective is puzzled and various characters lead us through the winding story which ends in a complex twist. Throughout the book the diary entries drop clues about the psychosis of one mother as she sinks deeper and deeper into a childrearing depression.

This book has it all, drama, great characters, humor and suspense. Really a good, quick read. I'd recommend it and will be reading more of her books.

See an interview with the author here: Sophie Hannah video interview

Great quote in a new book

The book is The Wrong Mother by Sophie Hannah. I just started it so I'm not ready to review but so far very good. Very tired Mommy-ish but some of us can relate to that.
Setting: Her husband is watching the news surrounded by the remnants of a dinner that hit the floor when the children had a tantrum.

"Sweet. Aren't you going to....?" I point at the mess.
"In a sec," he says. "I'm just watching this."
"You could do both at the same time," I say. "Watch the news and clear up the mess." Pointless; it's the sort of comment some one like Nick doesn't understand.
He looks at me as if I'm crazy.
"I'm just saying, it'd be more efficient."
When he sees I'm serious, he laughs. "Why don't I just go straight to the last day of my life?" he says. "That'd be really efficient."

Don't you love that? I'm always telling the kids and John to try to do things more logically, more efficiently. It doesn't work and what's the rush really?

On another note, I need to start writing down where I get my book recommendations from because I just finished a book by Gillian Roberts and it was awful. I finished it because I thought I might be overly critical now that I'm up on my grammer rules (though I don't always employ them on my blog). The book Whatever Doesn't Kill You  is a boring tale of two female detectives who almost (but don't) have love lives and almost (but don't) understand each other. The characters are underdeveloped and the plot is weak. There are two intertwining stories neither of which you care about plus the author is a recluse with commas.

Hopefully next week I'll have a positivei review of The Wrong Mother. It's looking good!

First three chapters of Four Circles

I am posting the first three chapters of the book for anyone who has the time to review. The formatting is not what I would like but I didn't have a lot of time to fix it. Please comment here, on Facebook or e-mail me.

1 - Trista

Trista woke, again, to check on Jack. He’d been up all night coughing and crying, which meant she was exhausted. She looked at the clock, 5:35am.

She poked her head into Jack’s room. He was snuggled in his blanket, sound asleep. She closed the door hoping to have time to shower and get ready for work.

She turned on the shower praying for warm water. Her apartment was her oasis despite the unpredictable water and awful landlord. She only paid $2500 a month for a 900 square foot studio. The price was reasonable for her Upper Eastside neighborhood but now, with Jack, she struggled to make ends meet.

Before Jack was born her life was easy. She had a great job as a lab technician and had finally met her soul mate, Bob. But a baby – or was it Trista? – wasn’t part of his plan so, when the pregnancy test came back positive, he flipped out and they hadn’t spoken in months.

She reluctantly turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. She had to get Jack up now or she’d be late for work. Tip-toeing into Jack’s room, she lifted his alphabet-animal blanket and rubbed his back.

“Jack-y poo, time to wakey-poo,” she cooed. “Jack in the beanstalk, we’ve got to get up, now. No fair crying all night and sleeping all day.”

She rubbed him a little harder and realized something wasn’t right. He felt stiff. She yanked the blanket off him and screamed. she started shaking uncontrollably. Her baby, her child, lay there blue as the sky and as far away as the clouds.

-------------------------

2 - Marsha

Marsha rolled on to her side and luxuriated in the feel of cool silk. Unmistakable warmth rained down on her eyelids. She wrestled herself  awake finding she was surrounded by billowing curtains and the salty tang of ocean air.

She sat straight up and looked around. The scenery was beautiful, a beach cottage with windows onto a white sand beach, but she had no idea how she had gotten there. Birds chirped and trees swayed as she racked her brain for a memory of yesterday. She raced to the window and looked at the trees. Palm trees and oak trees together on a beach?

Bits and pieces of the day before started to come back to her.

Her hand fluttered to her mouth. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Am I really dead?”

-------------------------------

3 - Jack

Jack woke in a majestic log cabin made of knotty pine. He sat in a leather club chair to the side of a huge living room under an arched ceiling that rose twenty-five feet into the air. Three ceiling fans spun silently blowing clean air from six small windows around the upper perimeter of the room. Three people sat at a nearby table chatting. They didn’t seem surprised he was there.

He looked at his body. Long, hairy legs jutted out of khaki shorts. He had never been to this cabin before but a felling of belonging overwhelmed him.

At the far end of the room a mesmerizing sculpture hung over a door. In the center of the sculpture a flat blue circle glowed like a moonlit pond on an winter’s night. Surrounding the circle were four overlapping metal rings. The smallest was platinum, the next gold, followed by silver and, finally, onyx. The larger rings encircled the smaller rings in an overlapping random pattern. Jack studied the sculpture wondering what it meant.

Four other doors led from the main room. One stood open. Jack felt certain it was his bedroom. He went through the doorway stunned by the breathtaking view from the open windows. The stunning blue lake seemed to envelop the cabin as though the building was floating. To the side, a small white-wooden bed was covered with a homespun patchwork quilt of dancing animals, toy cars and oversized letters. He reached out to touch it and was oddly comforted by the soft fabric. A magazine sat on a nightstand next to the bed and a small throw rug covered the floor.

Curious about the rest of the cabin he went back out to the living room. The door beneath the sculpture led to an enclosed porch. Jack’s mouth dropped as he realized the room was made entirely of glass. Floor, ceiling, even the furniture was glass. A glass block table stood in the corner with four matching glass chairs. Two sliding glass doors opened onto a suspended deck made of intertwined metal piping. The deck looked out over the pristine blue lake.

Jack cautiously placed one foot on the glass floor expecting it to shatter but the glass held and he walked over to the table. He could see straight through the floor to the lake. The water was so clear the only indicator it was actually there were tiny ripples formed by the breeze.

He turned and went back to the living room. The three people he had seen before were still talking.

“Though we’re done here, I’m still concerned she isn’t working up to her ability,” said one of the men.

“I think putting challenges in her path was a good idea,” said the other man.

“She just needs to build some confidence, Tom,” said the lone woman. “Once she finds something she’s good at she’ll be fine.”

Tom listened and nodded. “I guess you’re right. Thank you both. I didn’t think we’d ever do it but we did.”

“Good luck,” said the woman.

“Good luck, Tom,” said the man.

“Thanks guys, I’ll be seeing you,” said Tom as he walked past Jack. “Welcome Jack,” he said.

Jack watched as Tom walked through the glass room and slid open the glass doors. Without breaking stride he stepped onto the deck and jumped into the water.

Shocked, Jack turned to see Tom’s friend’s reactions. They weren’t in the living room. He spun around fearful of what he might find but spotted them on their way into the kitchen.

Still cautious about walking on glass, Jack made his way through the room and out on to the deck. He scanned the water but didn’t see Tom anywhere. He lay down on his stomach and slid to the edge of the deck. He could see through the water but couldn’t make out anything floating.

“Welcome Jack,” said a voice behind him.

Jack jumped startled to find a woman standing in the glass room.

“Where am I? What is going on?” Jack asked as he got to his feet.

“You’re in the four circles. You’ve been brought to the cabin on your first day because you were young when you died and you hadn’t had time to envision an afterlife,” the woman said.

“Oh,” he said, not understanding.

“I’m Marsha. I’m going to help you get oriented”, she said.

“I’m Ja…… yeah, right, you already know that,” he said.

“You were just a baby when it was decided you were needed here more than you were needed on the circle, so here you are. Because you were a baby, you’ve been placed in what is known as the ‘first circle’.”

“First circle? What does that mean?” Jack asked. “I don’t remember being a baby. I don’t remember anything. I guess I remember a little of my mother but not much.”

“That’s understandable,” Marsha said gently guiding Jack into the cabin. “The basic idea is there are four circles you can be placed in after you die. People in the first circle can interact with those they have left behind or, as we call it, those that are ‘on the circle’. Didn’t you get a manual or some sort of instruction in your room?”

Jack thought about the magazine he had ignored on his nightstand. Instead of mentioning it he asked, “What circle are you in?”

“The second,” Marsha said.

“What’s the difference?”

“Right now, you just need to understand the first circle. Most likely you’ll never experience the other circles. It’s very rare to move backward, though it has been done,” Marsha said.

“Did you move backward?” Jack probed.

“Oh no,” Marsha laughed. “I earned my spot in the second circle all on my own.”

“How?” Jack asked.

“Originally, I was in the third circle then I worked my way up to the second.” She paused to let that sink in then continued. “You’re going to ask how I ended up in the third circle so I’ll tell you. I didn’t appreciate what I had on the circle and had to pay for it. I started in the third circle.”

Marsha looked into Jack’s young eyes. She could see he was young even though he appeared to be in his early thirties. She had learned from her experience in the four circles that a baby or child who died was assigned the physical age at which they would have reached their intellectual or physical peak. Jack was headed for intellectual pursuits given that the thirties were too old for an athlete to peak. After their 10th birthday those who passed arrived as their chronological age.

One of the best lessons Marsha had learned was everything is not always as it seems. Someone who appears to be fifteen could have the mind of a seventy year old and the physical prowess of an Olympic athlete. She’d slowly been learning the basic principle not to judge.

Jack’s curious nature started to get the better of him. “How is your circle any different than mine? We’re both standing here talking. It seems like we’re the same.”

“It may seem we’re equal,” Marsha said looking away. “But you’ll soon discover the difference between the circles. Let’s not dwell on that right now, let’s talk about the plan for you.

“Each first circler is assigned a guidance group. This group is made up of one person from each of the four circles. The member of the group from the second circle, in this case me, is assigned as the group mentor. I help organize meetings and keep conversations flowing.

“The other two members, from the third and fourth circles, will be coming shortly. The four of us will live in this cabin until we’ve worked through your mission.” She paused anticipating Jack’s questions.

“Where are the others now? How do they get here?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure where they are,” Marsha answered. “They may be coming directly from their orientation or they may be coming from another group.”

“What’s an orientation?” Jack asked.

“I forgot. You wouldn’t have had one because you were just a baby …” Marsha said.

“How did you know that?” Jack interrupted.

“As the group mentor you get some insight into the mission of the guidance group. I was told you were a baby when you passed. That was it.” Jack’s confusion showed on his face.

“A lot of this is as new to me as it is to you so bear with me,” said Marsha. “Orientation day: it’s the first day for people who have passed from the circle to the four circles. It is sort of your day in paradise. Mine was at a beach cottage. Others might spend the day sailing or flying an airplane. It’s designed to ease you into the four circles. It only lasts one day then you’re placed into one of the circles.” Seeing Marsha’s wistful look Jack wished he had an orientation day.

“Your other question? About the other guidance group members? My best answer is they are somewhere else but will be here shortly. Is there anything else I didn’t answer?” asked Marsha.

“Are you kidding? Of course! What is my mission? I don’t remember anything before I showed up here. What could I possibly need to deal with on the circle?” Jack looked at Marsha hoping for some answers.

“We won’t know your mission until our first guidance group meeting,” said Marsha. “I’d expect there are some people on the circle having a hard time dealing with your death.”

Jack pondered that for a minute. He couldn’t remember anything about his life but he remembered the quilt in his room. It felt familiar; maybe he remembered more than he thought.

“When I first got here, a group of people was talking over there,” he pointed to the table. “One of them got up and walked off the deck of the glass room.”

“Those were members of the previous guidance group. My guess is there were only three because the fourth circler didn’t show,” Marsha rolled her eyes. “Fourth circlers can be tough to keep on schedule. The one that walked out there,” Marsha motioned to the deck, “was the first circler.”

“How do you know?” Jack asked afraid of the answer.

“Well,” Marsha grinned, “if I jumped off the deck all I’d get is wet.

Sony likes my idea - so they are stealing it!!

RALEIGH, N.C., Sept. 29 /PRNewswire/ -- Lulu.com, the marketplace for digital content on the Internet, today announced the availability of its weRead book discovery tool on Yahoo!, the world's most visited home page. Yahoo! is integrating its new homepage with the Yahoo! Application Platform (YAP) bringing together the most useful information and functionality from across the Web. weRead is the only book application offered on Yahoo!'s new homepage released today.


weRead uses Facebook and other social networking sites to help readers find new authors and authors find new readers by recommending books based on users' virtual bookshelves and feedback within their online communities. weRead enables readers to catalog their books via their own virtual bookshelf, rate and review them. Readers benefit from the more than 20 million ratings and 2.6 million reviews written by people they recognize and trust rather than reading reviews from strangers.

Yes, I will be checking out Lulu for self-publishing options. Hoping to talk my good friend Christina into doing some (pro-bono) PR work for me!

Also - if you are in the neighborhood check out:

--AUTHOR PANEL: Friday, October 2nd, 7pm: Juliette Fay, Lynne Griffin, Amy Mackinnon and Stephanie Schorow at Jamaicaway Books


Don't miss this free event, where four wonderful local authors will discuss their work and the writing process. Part of the "Chicks Who Write" Series.
 
Amy is one of the author who gave me some guidance so support her and show up for her book signing if you are in the area!

Welcome to Lisa Vallier's literary blog!

Hi all,

I've created this web page to track my writing trials and tribulations. As most visitors to this site know I've written a novel, Four Circles. I am currently editing (for the tenth time it seems) based on agent feedback. Actually, it was the feedback of one lone agent who seems to have read the first three chapters.. Her name is Carole Greene and she is with the Simenauer and Greene Agency in Florida. I had given up all hope until her rejection letter came through. She suggested I rearrange the book to bring more of the action to the beginning and capture agents attention. Having gotten similar comments from multiple readers I decided to head back to the drawing board. Some of my avid fans (my father and Karen specifically) are not happy about it but I think the result may be a more fluid story. I plan to post a few chapters in the not too distant future for everyone to enjoy and (*ugh*) review.

I'll try to end most posts with a literary recommendation (or two):

Blame - Michelle Huneven (Sarah Crichton Books, © 2009)
The story starts with a young girl on top of a hotel roof witnessing the her mother being brought by ambulance into a hotel. The girl's uncle is charged with taking care of her and allows his pretty but drunken girlfriend to pierce the 14 year olds ears.
The girlfriend, Patsy, is the main character of the book. She ends up driving drunk one evening and, unbeknownst to herself, kills two people. The book follows her imprisonment, entanglement with the young girl's family including uncle Brice, his boyfriend and a wealthy recovered alcoholic uncle. The story of how she transitions back into society unfolds seemlessly but there is a twist at the end that even I (an avid end guesser) couldn't see coming. I love this type of book! Likable characters that really come through on the page. Some of the authors comparisons are a little odd. In one section she says, "his green-smelling cologne" as if it's a good thing when all it made me think of was sewage but some people would smell forest green. Ah, the beauty of reading!

Tethered - Amy MacKinnon (Shaye Arehart Books © 2008)
This novel follows a woman who is abandoned and taken in by a family that owns a mortuary. See, right that different, right? Anyway, Clara Marsh is a little different, not only because she lives and works at the mortuary but she is a social outcast. A child attempts to befriend her but Clara shies away until she realizes the child has no one else and then disappears. Clara ends up finding where the child lives and untangles a web of horror that no child should have to endure. The book makes you cringe but keeps you reading with it's twists and turns. It's based in Massachusetts and the author lives in Marshfield! I actually spoke with her and she gave me some great advice on how to get my book published. Another good read - and fairly short at 272 pages.
If you can, buy this one as it will support a local author!