THE BOOK OF LANEY — Now Available for Pre-Order!

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NOW available for preorder from Lacewing Books.

Here and now I am in this place far away from my home. Here, with the cold wind blowing down from the north and the stars piercing through the cloudless sky. Here I am.

But my story does not start here.

My story starts months ago and hundreds of miles south of where I am now. My story starts in the place I used to call home. My story starts with violence and heartbreak.

After her brother is involved in a grisly murder-suicide, fifteen-year-old Laney is sent to live with her grandmother in the Adirondack Mountains. Laney gradually warms to her new home—especially her relationship with a mysterious neighbor—but before she can appreciate her new life, she must uncover the secrets that have haunted her family for decades.

 

book of laney

Available March 2015 from Lacewing Books.

Newburyport Literary Festival 2014 — wrap up

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Another year, another great Newburyport Literary Festival. I was thrilled to be a part of the festival again this year and to be able to share the day with readers and writers. It is, without a doubt, my favorite local event of the year and I am so proud that our town hosts it. And my great thanks to Vicki Hendrickson and Jennifer Entwistle for all that they do as co-directors of the festival. Amazing work, ladies!

Here’s a recap of all that I witnessed during the festival.

I was so happy to share the festival this year with my friends, Jennifer Pieroni and Pamela Erens. Pamela’s plane was delayed and so, unfortunately, she did not make it to the opening ceremony. Jennifer and I did, though, and it was great. The opening was a lively conversation between Andre Dubus III, this year’s festival honoree, and Ann Hood. Here I must admit that I have never read any of Hood’s work but I intend to now. She was such an engaging and charming speaker that I fell right in love with her. Their conversation was funny, informative, and full of heart. It definitely set the tone for the rest of the festival.

After the opening ceremony, we went to the Dinner with the Authors where we are able to connect with the fabulous Holly Robinson (who is so damn funny that she brings out my snort-laugh). Thankfully, Pamela was able to get on another flight and made it just in time to meet up with us at the dinner. I also was able to meet Jessica Keener and Caroline Leavitt, who were both so lovely and warm. All in all, a lovely night.

Saturday morning had me rushing out the door to get to the church on time. That is Old South Church in Newburyport where I was scheduled to introduce Wally Lamb. The night before I told my friends at dinner about my anxiety dream. I dreamt that I was at the church on time but I had forgotten my write up. I told a sour-faced group who were seated at the altar that I would be right back and I headed down the aisle. Unfortunately, I never made it down the aisle in the dream and never introduced Wally Lamb because I was too busy changing my clothes in front of everyone in the church. So my friend Holly triple-dog dared me to tell this dream in my introduction and it sounded like such a great idea after a glass of wine, but, alas in the light of the day, I decided not to. I did, however, tell the dream to the horrified pastor in my nervousness(sorry, Pastor Rob!).

Just before I was to introduce Wally Lamb, I noticed that Richard Russo was in the audience which made me FREAK OUT even more, but I managed to hold it together and give my introduction.

As for Wally Lamb, he could not have been nicer and kinder and his reading was excellent. He read an excerpt from We Are Water which made me cry. I think he must have known what wrecks he had turned the audience into because after his excerpt he read his account of signing at Costco.

After Wally Lamb, I raced over to The Book Rack to listen to Jennifer read from Danceland. Her reading was moving and excellent. So proud of my friend!

Meanwhile, my husband took our son to hear and learn from David Biedrzycki as he discussed The Art of Digital Book Illustration. They had a great time and learned a lot.

After Jennifer’s reading, we headed to Jabberwocky Bookshop to hear Caroline Leavitt read. My god, what a funny, warm, and engaging speaker and reader she is. If you have the chance to hear her read, do yourself a favor and hear her! She was fabulous. <–side note: Ann Hood sat next to us at this reading and by this point I was so in love with her that I had to physically hold myself back from telling her so!

After lunch came the 1PM panel I was moderating called, Finding the Story. On the panel were three excellent writers: Bret Anthony Johnston, Jessica Keener, and CB Anderson. What a great group the are. So generous with their insights into process and craft and all such talented writers. I was honored to share the stage with them and to have this conversation. We had an excellent audience with good questions and even ran out of time before we got to all of the questions. I actually loved moderating a panel which I’ve never done before. It was great fun.

After my panel, we headed back over to Jabberwocky Bookshop to hear Ann Hood speak and read. She was incredible. My girl crush went into overdrive listening to her entertain and amaze the crowd. I can’t wait to read every single one of her books. Team Ann Hood!

Sadly, I was not able to attend any of the 4PM events because by that point I was hobbling due to a poor shoe choice (note: wear comfortable shoes in your anxious, rickety-streeted town. You know better!) and so I had to go home and “rest” (i.e., go to the grocery store to make sure my neglected family didn’t starve) and change my shoes.

I met back up with Pamela and, after dinner, we headed to the Closing Ceremony. which was a wonderful discussion moderated by Lucy Kaylin, editor-in-chief of O Magazine. On the panel were: Richard Russo, Wally Lamb, Andre Dubus III, and Jenna Blum. They were all great speakers and so funny as they discussed their various Oprah experiences. Of the four, I have yet to read Blum’s work but I certainly will now as she seemed really intelligent and funny. All in all, a perfect ending to a great day.

I should note here that while it was raining and cold all day, people came out and enjoyed all of the free events. I am already excited for next year.

The very best part of the weekend, though, waking up this morning to my beautiful family who missed seeing me all day yesterday as much as I missed seeing them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Virgins, by Pamela Erens

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Pamela Erens‘ smashing second novel, THE VIRGINS, is a novel destined to be a classic, mostly because it is so expertly written and expresses such truths, but also because it pulls from many classics all the while inverting them, offering readers a fresh view of that which we thought we knew.

In many ways, the novel’s narrator Bruce Bennett-Jones is Nick Carraway to Seung Jung’s Gatsby, as Bennett-Jones smugly and expertly narrates all of the action and emotion of the characters around him at his East Coast prep school, especially that of fish-out-of-water turned golden boy, Seung, and his sexy and exotic girlfriend, Aviva. The world that Bennett-Jones creates for us is fully his own, but director that he is, he is completely comfortable showing us the work of those who act around him, casting them, oftentimes, against the grain of expectation.

At the center of Bennett-Jones’s world are the beautiful, aspirational couple of Aviva and Seung. Bennett-Jones both covets their relationship and is repulsed by it. He does not wish to posses Aviva in every emotional way that Seung does. Instead, he wishes to ravage her, which could make Seung the hero, the romantic lead, Romeo Montague, and Bennett-Jones the villian. But wait, that is all too simplistic, for Aviva is no Juliet. She is not willing to give up anything for her romance with Seung, certainly not her life.

Aviva wants out. She wants someone who can please her as much as she wants to restrict herself from pleasure. She wants to breathe. She doesn’t know what she wants other than she wants to not be a virgin anymore, because after all, she is not the woman everyone perceives her to be. She’s a kid, she’s starving herself, and she’s scared.

She is also liberated. She can ask for sex. She can want to have it. She can be disappointed when she doesn’t get it.

So is Aviva Emma Bovary then? Is she Anna Karenina? Is she Edna Pontellier?

Through the eyes of Bennett-Jones, she is all of them and none of them, for she is not oppressed by anything external to her own thoughts and the desires that she wished she didn’t have. It is Seung who is oppressed. It is he who has to fight most against the confines of the world where he exists and the expectations of those around him, especially those of Aviva and his parents.

And it is Seung who, like Bovary, Karenina, Pontellier, pays the price in the end, as he stupidly sacrifices himself for that which he thought was lost.

Though they are central to the plot, the novel is not really about Aviva and Seung. From the beginning, we know who we are meant to follow and that is Bennett-Jones, who is Meursault in L’étranger, guilty, judged as much as he is The Talented Mr. Ripley, easily pushing forward when he has ruined the lives of others. And yet he seems to have something of a conscience, or at least he wants his audience to believe he does.

Even though we are not meant to like him, we can’t help but admire the way he maneuvers through his life and the lives of others, eventually getting his way (or at least telling us that he does). Ultimately, Bennett-Jones is utterly compelling; out from behind the curtain, he becomes the star of the show, and when it is his turn to take a bow, we give him a standing ovation.

Publishers Weekly reviews I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND

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From the Publishers Weekly review of I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND:

“Much of the appeal of Collins’s fiction comes from the idiosyncratic way that the longer stories unfold, their lurch from subject to subject challenging convention, but possessing an inner logic that conforms to character. Typically, initially disjointed subjects dovetail to resonant climaxes.”

Enter for your chance to win a copy of I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND

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 I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND is forthcoming from [PANK] Books in January 2013.

Click here and enter for your chance to WIN one of two signed copies. And please spread the word!

 

 

Joy to the World

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Has been an up and down sort of time for my family. As already noted, we lost our beloved pet recently and on top of that we’ve all been sick. And yet, there is so much to celebrate. That we are together. That we are whole. That we love one another.

And yesterday, all of the blurbs for my book came in; joy to the world, indeed! I’m truly grateful to these writers who have lent their names to my book. Thank you!

“Myfanwy Collins tells a deep and resonant story about people she loves, and along the way shows us how to love them as well.” —Dorothy Allison, author of Bastard Out of Carolina and Cavedweller

“Fearless, elegant, and accessible, Echolocation is literary fiction at its best. With heartbreakingly beautiful prose, Myfanwy Collins tells a gripping and tender tale of broken souls yearning for wholeness. These are characters who will stay with you long after you turn the last page. It’s a dazzling debut!”
Ellen Meister, author of The Other Life

“Myfanwy Collins has the goods. It’s that simple. Echolocation is about love in all its magnificent slipperiness; it’s about how secrets bind us rather than rend us; it’s about the endless series of personal reinventions we call a lifetime. And these are things we had all better be thinking–and reading–about, if we plan to try and get out of this alive.” —Ron Currie Jr., author of God is Dead and Everything Matters!

“Myfanwy Collins’ debut novel calls to mind the grim and radiant work of Daniel Woodrell. From page one, I was chilled by the landscape, caught up in the trouble, and riveted by these women of northernmost New York who slam back together and figure out how live with what’s missing.” —Pia Z. Ehrhardt, author of Famous Father and Other Stories

“A moving and delicate novel, tracing the poignant destinies of women who long for a home they never had.” —Laila Lalami, author of Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits and Secret Son

“Get ready to fall madly, sadly in love with the fiction of Myfanwy Collins.” —Benjamin Percy, author of The Wilding and Refresh, Refresh

And then there is this beauty–give it a listen:

Joy to the World

The Burning House, by Paul Lisicky

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Isidore Mirsky, the narrator of Paul Lisicky’s gorgeous novel The Burning House, desperately wants to be a good man. He loves his wife. He loves where he lives. He wants to do good work. He wants a purpose. He wants to be good. The problem is that Isidore doesn’t really know who he is anymore outside of his lusts and fears and indiscretions. Indeed, it seems he has lost the ability to function in the moment.

Even as he feels his wife, Laura, falling away from him into illness, he also pushes her away–out of fear, and, ultimately, lust. The one person who brings Isidore back to life is his sister-in-law, Joan. It is as if the two women are halves of one perfect woman for Isidore–a person who has never existed and can never exist.

Told in gorgeous, hypnotic language, we follow Isidore through his travails and hope that he will come back to living within the moment, which he does. For in the end, after all seems lost, it is Isidore who is found as he listens to his wife sing once more:

So she lets go and gives voice to everything coming at her: the love on the way, the love left behind. And good health. The possibilities. What more could a good man want? And how very nice for the weary traveler, who’s had enough of the same old thing, who could stand a little refreshment every now and then.

It’s a beautiful book. Read it.

Hard to Say, by Ethel Rohan

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I do believe that Hard to Say, a painfully beautiful linked collection of stories by Ethel Rohan, will leave you as speechless as it did me. The book begins with a young woman whose own desire not to speak her family’s many secrets chokes her. It is not until she envisions herself speaking, through a dream of bloodletting, that her stories are set free.

Long kept hidden away in the narrator’s secret spaces, the stories burst onto the page with confessions of wrong doing–both that which is done to the narrator and that which she does out of necessity and survival and desire. Indeed, the book reminded me of the first time I went to confession. I remember being disappointed because the priest was not in a booth as I had anticipated. Instead, we sat in a small room together, nearly facing each other. I could not possibly tell him all of my sins face-to-face.  Instead, I told him those I thought he could most easily swallow. Had I been able to speak freely in a dark booth, away from his eyes, I might have told the truth as the narrator does in these stories.

While all of the stories moved me, the one that broke me was the final story, “Mammy,” which is peeled back to the first word and possibly the final word any human being thinks or says and that is a name for mother: Mammy, Maw, Ma, Mummy, Mommy, Mama, etc.  The narrator, leaving her ailing mother in Dublin as she flies back to the US, watches a documentary about girls’ circumcision in a Ugandan village. She is on the plane and her thoughts are, obviously, with her mother, as are mine while I read it. I have been on that plane, flying back and forth to and from my sick mother, wishing for relief from the anguish of it all. And then the final lines which pierced me deep in my heart and continue to:

Then, on the plane, from the TV, those girls’ cries from that hut in Uganda, calling their mothers, Mammy, Mammy, Mammy. Cries that stabbed me, that should have cracked the earth.

It’s a gorgeous book. Read it.