August 25, 2005

Writer At Work

Working on a novel is, it seems to me, a bit like converting to a new faith. Each bit of new information is interpreted in light of the faith's own logic, confirming, whether in obvious or contradictory ways, the validity of one's beliefs. Here, at Bread Loaf, I've had many occasions to hear people whose job it is to teach fiction, and I've been taking bits and pieces from what they're saying and relating them to my own work.

A few weeks ago, I was riding a great wave of inspiration on my novel, and the writing came easily. Then I hit a wall--I knew that one of my two main protagonists (a college student) wasn't as well drawn as the other, and I wasn't sure why. But after a long conversation with one of the fiction writers here, I came to see what wasn't working. I'd started the story too early. Which was fine, because I was writing to discover the character. Now that this particular mental hurdle has been cleared, I'll be cutting out another 10,000 words and then moving on. Until the next road block.

August 22, 2005

Some Highlights

Charles Baxter gave a lecture on "Creating a Scene." Here, he used the word "scene" not in the traditional sense in which it is used in fiction workshop, but in the way in which most people mean it when they say "Please don't make a scene." The crux of Baxter's argument is that too often writers try to remain in control of their scenes, and shy away from letting characters act out their drama. He suggested that in art, as in life, people do behave in foolish and over-blown ways, and one shouldn't be afraid to reflect that in one's writing. He cited many examples of scenes, including one from one of my favorite writers--Edward P. Jones. (He also mentioned, en passant, that some of the most convincing outcasts or disenfranchised characters can be found in Dostoyevsky, so I made a mental note to re-read him while I'm working on my new novel.)

Doreen Baingana, whose collection, Tropical Fish, was one of my favorites this year, read the title story from her book early this week. Set in Uganda, the story is about a woman who has an affair with a white man and the effect of it on her life. It's a sad, reflective, poignant piece, but there were moments in the dialogue that were funny, creating a nice contrast.

Claire Messud read from her forthcoming novel afterwards, a wonderful voice-driven piece about a college-bound young man named Frederick (unfortunate nickname: Booty). She read at a dizzying pace, but without once losing her audience.

Chris Castellani read a heart-breaking excerpt from his new novel,The Saint of Lost Things. He dedicated the reading to Amanda Davis, who died in an accident two years ago, and who was a fellow here in 1999.

August 18, 2005

Bread Loaf 2005 Kickoff

Here's a bourgeois confession: I've never waited a table in my life. So I was more than a little nervous about Wednesday night's dinner, which was the first meal that the waiter scholars had to serve. We had our forty-five minute training session in the kitchen and dining hall, set up the tables, ate our own dinner in 10 minutes, and then opened the doors and welcomed the faculty, fellows, and contributors (paying attendees). I was in charge of two tables, and managed to get everyone's order right and to clear everything in time. Because the headwaiters had scheduled everyone very carefully, it really wasn't that difficult to stay on top of things.

After dinner, Michael Collier gave a welcoming speech, in which he repeated, yet again, his advice that attendees 'pace themselves.' There are tons of lectures and readings to attend, plus the workshop, plus social gatherings, and it's impossible to do it all without burning out. The auditorium was packed when Collier spoke, and someone fainted and had to be led out. Charles Baxter read a wonderful story about a couple who are about to get divorced and see each other one last time when they clear out their house, and Michael Collier read some of his poems as well.

The temperature dropped after sun down and it's absolutely freezing. Everyone's running back in to get sweaters and I realize now I haven't brought nearly enough warm clothes. I'm off to the coffee reception. More later.

August 17, 2005

Things I Learned Today

That I'm not a light packer, but it's not entirely my fault. Bread Loaf package materials advised attendees to pack light clothes as well as warm, sunscreen and insect repellent as well as raincoats.

That I can't sleep on planes no matter what precautions I take, including the ingestion of (legal) drugs.

That it's easy to get dehydrated here at Bread Loaf because of the altitude. And that there are few water fountains on campus.

That Vermont law prohibits open containers of alcohol from all public areas. Drink indoors.

That, despite claims to the contrary, wireless access doesn't really expand to the cottage where we're staying. So I have to cut this short.

August 16, 2005

Bread Loaf Diaries

The first time I heard of Bread Loaf was from my friend L. in a writing class in 2001. Shortly thereafter I happened upon Rebecca Mead's article in the New Yorker, which begins thus:

There are very few places in America where it can be claimed definitively that poets kick ass, and one of them is the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, which takes place over eleven days every August in the Green Mountains of Vermont. At Bread Loaf, which is the oldest and most prestigious writers' conference in the country, poets are not the effete, marginal figures of popular imagination. This was amply demonstrated at this year's poets-versus-fiction-writers football game, a regular fixture in which those who traffic in metre and rhyme go head to head on the Bread Loaf meadow with crafters of experimental, semi-autobiographical narratives.

Mead provides some history on the conference, what kind of work one can hope to do during the two weeks, drops names of frequent faculty, and then gets to the part that is remembered by most of my writer friends:

The triple compulsions of Bread Loaf have, traditionally, been getting published, getting drunk, and getting laid; and, though each is honored more in the breach than in the observance, the reputation lingers. The conference is informally known as Bed Loaf--it comes as something of a disappointment to discover that, in coining a nickname, the finest literary talents of the twentieth century couldn't come up with anything better than a low pun--and for many years it was as notorious for its debauchery as for its higher-minded pursuits. (...) Attendees of conferences dating to the early nineties will, when pressed, tell of finding conferees rutting in hedgerows, and sometimes will even confess to engaging in some rutting themselves. Similarly, Bread Loaf used to be famous for the quantities of alcohol ingested: the faculty would take off for Bloody Marys before lunch and Martinis before dinner, and some could be found still boozing at dawn in the faculty lounge, Treman Cottage, if they had not already taken off for the hedgerows.

Things have changed somewhat, Mead explains. Bread Loaf is "a primmer place now," she says. And yet, upon finding out that I was attending this year, a number of my friends cautioned against too much partying.

Three years ago, Dave Koch (one of the founding editors of the Land-Grant College Review) wrote a diary for Slate, describing the work he had to do for his waitership. And today I found myself madly googling for it, as prep for the kind of work I'll be doing.

I'll be in transit most of today, so check back again tomorrow for on-site posts.

August 15, 2005

Back in Action

Until last weekend, I hadn't realized how tethered I was to my computer. We'd decided to go camping in the woods, and I had no choice but to be unplugged. I started to feel the itch after only a few hours out--not just the itch to check email, but just to see what was up online. So it was nice to get a little detox and just enjoy nature and be in the moment.

I came home yesterday to a ton of work, so please bear with me. I will answer your email soon.

And I'm also getting ready to go to the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, which I'll be attending on a work-study scholarship, starting tomorrow. I'll try to post occasionally from Vermont.

August 08, 2005

Out and About

I'm still in Seattle. In fact, I'm planning on spending the rest of the week here, hiking, camping, and trying to stay away from computers. If you're in need of your literary news fix, may I suggest the fine blogs listed here? Back soon, insha'llah.

August 07, 2005

Off Site

I'm up in Seattle this weekend, to attend the Arab Festival, which is taking place at the Seattle Center, right by the Space Needle. There are tons of shows and activities scheduled (including a stand-up comedy night with Maysoon Zayid, Dean Obeidallah, and the inimitable Ahmed Ahmed). I'm also doing an event at the Eve Alvord Theatre on Sunday at 3 pm, sharing the stage with Dr. Nada Elia, of Antioch University, to talk about the current Arab American literary scene. Check it out if you're interested.

August 05, 2005

Author Website

One of the necessary stops in preparing for the release of Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits was getting an author website. Here it is: Lailalalami.com. It has information about my book, an excerpt, contact details, and dates for my upcoming book tour. If you live in one of the cities I'll be visiting in the fall, it would be nice to meet you.

A Review of Hope

Author Damian McNicholl reviewed Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits and also did a brief Q&A with me over at his blog. Check it out.

August 04, 2005

Giveaway: Bodies in Motion

This week, I'd like to give away a copy of Mary Anne Mohanraj's collection of short stories Bodies in Motion. The book tracks the lives of two generations of families in Sri Lanka and in America, and has received very favorable reviews in the San Francisco Chronicle and the Boston Globe.

This is how it works: The first person to send me an email at llalami at yahoo dot com with the subject line "Bodies in Motion" gets the book.

Update: The winner is Aziza K. of Chicago, Illinois. Congratulations!

Author Interviews: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Adam Langer's latest column for the Book Standard is about author interviews. Who gives good ones? Who doesn't? Langer sorts his answers into five categories: The Freewheeling Improviser, He/She Who Does Not Suffer Fools Gladly, The Unself-conscious Subject, The Consummate Storyteller, and The Genuinely Decent Human Being. Good stuff.

Doreen Baingana on Expectations

Doreen Baingana, the author of the lovely collection Tropical Fish: Stories out of Entebbe, writes in the Guardian about expectations made of African writers that they only about the tragic and the horrifying. But, she says,

Fiction writers have the language and leeway to play with received notions of truth; to form new stories out of raw material, like glass out of sand, creating something different and idiosyncratic.

Link swiped from Lit Saloon.

Easy Come, Easy Go

Here's a brief article on blogs, courtesy of the Guardian. Among the findings cited: A new blog is created every second, but only 13% of blogs are updated once a week or more.

Event: Olivas Reading

Frequent Moorishgirl contributor and Los Angeles-based writer Dan Olivas informs us that he will be reading and signing copies of his first children's book, Benjamin and the Word. Details:

Venue: Tía Chucha's Cafe Cultural
Address: 12737 Glenoaks Blvd., Sylmar
Ages: Up to fourth grade
Admission: Free
For more information call: (818) 362-7060
Or visit: http://www.tiachucha.com

Check it out.

Lisa Glatt Interview

Lisa Glatt, whose story collection The Apple's Bruise was reviewed here at Moorishgirl in June, is interviewed over at Bookslut. Here's a snippet:

So no procrastination. You write when you sit and that’s that.

LG: Yeah! It’s kind of that thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard it but there is no such thing as writer’s block, you just have to lower your expectations. It’s so true! If you are sitting there waiting for genius to visit you or the muse or whatever you’ll never get anything done. I find that especially with fiction and longer fiction. When I was writing poetry and was waiting for the feeling and the feeling came and I don’t think it works like that for fiction. There isn’t that rush. You have to sit there and do some work and hopefully something will happen.

Glatt's husband, poet David Hernandez, chimes in as well.

August 03, 2005

Guest Review: Dan Olivas

The Lives of Rain
By Nathalie Handal
Interlink Books
Paperback, 67 pp.

"The Doors of Exile," the prologue-poem of Nathalie Handal's accomplished and affecting debut collection, presents the bleak and disorienting nature of the Palestinian diaspora: "The shadows close the door / this is loneliness: / every time we enter a room we enter a new room / the hours of morning growing deep into our exile / prayers stuck in between two doors / waiting to leave to enter / waiting for memory to escape / the breath of cities." For those in exile, there is no arriving, no here or there, only loneliness and a hope that memory-of something unspoken and unspeakable-will fade. And exile produces a multifaceted loss; it has more than one door. This poem sets the tone and theme for the collection.

Handal divides her book into three untitled sections. The first set of poems focuses on the nature and consequences of Palestinian displacement. In "Gaza City," the narrator laments: "My hands and my cheek against / the cold wall, I hide like a slut, ashamed.... / Every house is a prison, / every room a dog cage." This is the nature of being made unwelcome in one's own home: the victim feels guilt, like a "slut," nothing more than a "dog."

With remarkable and brutal clarity, Handal shows us the longing created by war when she focuses on an individual's suffering. "It's been a long time-," begins the narrator in "The Combatant and I," remembering her absent lover, "where have you been, where are you?" She recounts her loss: "I miss your frowns, / the dark shadow of your oval chin. / I can't breathe at night, can't feel my legs. / Dreamed I stopped seeing. / Are you lost?" And she imagines his response: "I suppose you would say, / I should be happy that I can still love."

Part two of the collection follows the Palestinian dislocation into Latin America displaying the wonderful and unusual blending of culture and language. In "El Almuerzo de Tía Habiba" ("Aunt Habiba's Lunch"), Handal recounts the simple joys of visiting her relatives in Mexico: "Half past six in the morning / the kitchen is wide awake, / no time for many cups of coffees / for Tía Liliana, Tía Mercedes, / Tía Rosette, Tía Esperanza, / Tía Josefina, Tía Margarita, / Tía Layla and Tío Wadie / are coming for some of Tía Habiba's / tamalitos, lamb, hummos, laban, and grape leaves." Oh, what a magnificent Mediterranean-Mexican feast filled with the company of many aunts and one uncle!

But with the adoption of other homes comes confusion of self-identity as described in the poem, "Strangers Inside Me": "Words slide down my throat / like velvet rivers and outside / a tiny echo is calling me / as I travel and move / from one continent to the next, / move, to be whole." Though there is the linguistic freedom found in code-switching from English to Arabic to Spanish to French, there is also the acknowledgment that these multiple identities grow out of forced dislocation which, in turn, makes one feel less whole, less connected to one's true self.

The third part of Handal's collection consists of one long, eight-section poem, "Amrika." Handal takes us to the Middle East, New York, New England, Latin America, Marseille, Miami, London. Diaspora creates a "tyranny of distance" that makes one ask: "How does one begin to understand the difference / between Sabaah el khayr and bonjour, / the difference between the city of lights and black-outs." Notice the lack of question mark. This is a statement; there is no answer. But Handal does eventually offer a question, one that attempts to uncover one of the primary catalysts of military action against other countries: "I wear my jeans, tennis shoes, / walk Broadway, pass Columbia, / read Said and Twain, / wonder why we are obsessed / with difference, / our need to change the other?" And again, there is that longing for a home torn asunder by such wars: "It is later than it was a while ago / and I haven't moved a bit, / my voice still breaking into tiny pieces / when I introduce myself to someone new / and imagine I have found my way home." This longing is so strong, not only does it dislocate time, but the narrator is willing to pretend that she is finally home.

The Lives of Rain is a stirring, heartrending collection that forces us to look at the agonizing ramifications of military intervention and the Palestinian diaspora. Handal does not point fingers; perhaps we all are to blame on some level. But one thing is clear: Handal is an important and eloquent voice whose poetic vision is as rare as it is necessary.

Daniel Olivas is a writer living in Los Angeles. His most recent book is Devil Talk: Stories (Bilingual Press).

For Mahfouz Fans

The August 2005 issue of Harper's has a new short story by Naguib Mahfouz, titled "The Disturbing Occurrences." Unfortunately, it's not available online.

Are Animals Patentable?

Monsanto Corporation has reportedly filed a request for a patent to a breed of pigs, seeking to control not just the method by which those pigs were bred, but the pigs themselves as well as their offspring. If the patent is granted, any farmers who breed pigs that are similar to the Monsanto pigs may owe royalties. Greenpeace reports:

There are more than 160 countries and territories mentioned where the patent is sought including Europe, the Russian Federation, Asia (India, China, Philippines) America (USA, Brazil, Mexico), Australia and New Zealand. WIPO itself can only receive applications, not grant patents. The applications are forwarded to regional patent offices.

The patents are based on simple procedures, but are incredibly broad in their claims.

In one application (WO 2005/015989 to be precise) Monsanto is describing very general methods of crossbreeding and selection, using artificial insemination and other breeding methods which are already in use. The main "invention" is nothing more than a particular combination of these elements designed to speed up the breeding cycle for selected traits, in order to make the animals more commercially profitable.

By the way, Monsanto is the same company that manufactured Agent Orange, which was used in Vietnam in the 1960s, and, more recently, the milk hormone rBGH, which has been suspected of causing cancer. They're also the geniuses behind terminator seeds.

Link via Boing Boing.

August 02, 2005

Prophet of Zongo Street

Ghanaian writer Mohammed Naseehu Ali, whose short fiction appeared in the New Yorker earlier this year, has a collection of stories out now, titled The Prophet of Zongo Street. It's about a group of residents on a fictitious street in Accra who grapple with issues of family and faith. The L.A. Times' Merle Rubin reviews (and likes) it: Humor -- and a dose of skepticism -- about isms.

Understanding the Bombers' Mindset

Over the last few days, I've seen several articles about books of fiction that seem newly relevant in the aftermath of the London attacks. Over at the Times, for instance, Helen Rumbelow revisits Hanif Kureishi's short story "My Son the Fanatic," which is about an older Pakistani man who watches helplessly as his son Ali is taken in by fundamentalists. The story appeared in Love In A Blue Time, and was also adapted by Kureishi for the screen. She also suggests Zadie Smith's White Teeth, in which young Millat's transformation from hipster to Satanic-Verses-burning-goon is dramatized with conviction and humor. Lastly, Rumbelow mentions Monica Ali's Brick Lane, for its depiction of a young Islamist revolutionary (with whom Nazneen has an affair).

Over at the Mobile Register, John Sledge devotes a column to Brick Lane, and finds that Ali provides "a fully rounded portrait of one family and its confrontation with inexorable social and historical forces."

Meanwhile, over at Salon, Laura Miller reviews three books of non-fiction: Robert Pape's Dying to Win, Terry McDermott's Perfect Soldiers and Karen Armstrong's The Battle for God, and gets incrementally more positive about each book in turn.

August 01, 2005

Disturbing News

Amnesty International reports that six human rights activists were arrested by the Moroccan government in Western Sahara, and some of them possibly tortured.

The rights activists are under investigation for allegedly participating in or promoting an armed gathering. Amnesty International fears that they have been targeted because of their human rights work during recent events or their openly held views in favour of independence of Western Sahara.

Read the full report here.

'Desertion' Was Deserted

This is what seven books of fiction and a Booker Prize shortlist buys you: a 200-word review in the New York Times. And you share the same page with five other brown writers.

Mohanraj Collection in Review

Mary Anne Mohanraj's debut collection, Bodies in Motion, is reviewed over at the SF Chronicle.

[It] becomes noteworthy that a collection containing so many figuratively paralyzed individuals is titled "Bodies in Motion." Much of this collection is about juxtapositions: characters finding ways of movement in situations that seem hopelessly static. People must compromise, finding pockets of richness amid deprivation of truth, sex, love and self-expression.

The Boston Globe also gave it a positive review.

One Guy Screwing Up America

I suppose it's fashionable to write books about how much you hate liberals, and to top the list with people like Michael Moore. So Bernard Goldberg's 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America is nothing new and could have just joined the piles of other books like it. Except Goldberg had to open his big mouth and say things like this:

Moore 20 years ago would have been a fringe character on the left. Now he represents mainstream liberalism...I guess I'm conservative on some issues, but on certain social issues, I'm quite liberal. I don't care if Adam marries Steve. I have publicly said that I would make racial discrimination not just a civil offense but a criminal offense. But I'm against affirmative action because I don't see why the children of Diana Ross should get some extra points but the sons of an Anglo-Saxon coal miner from West Virginia don't get any points.

Because that's what affirmative action is all about: helping all those rich, privileged black kids get into college.

This Is Freedom On The March

It's very hard for me to be anything but cynical when I read news about the new Iraqi constitution:

If ever the women of Iraq needed support from the international community, the UN, and, in particular, the UK government, it is now. With only two weeks until the country's draft constitution is due to be ready (the deadline is August 15) who else can help Iraqi women to prevent the total erosion of their human rights - rights they have enjoyed, in a secular state, since 1959?

Tony Blair, who continues to justify the invasion of the country as the only means to topple a brutal dictatorship and help to establish democracy, now has an obligation to use all his powers to avert a new dictatorship in Iraq - that of the mullahs over women.

The unparalleled violence of the past 30 years - three wars, the horrors perpetrated by Saddam Hussein and the killings of thousands of Iraqi civilians since the occupation - have meant the majority of the Iraqi population is female. Furthermore, it is estimated that more than 60% of this majority are female heads of households, as widows or wives of the "disappeared". There is barely a family that does not have its unprecedented share of widows and single women. And it is these women who must shoulder the sole responsibility for raising the next generation, the orphans and children, and caring for the wounded, sick, elderly and traumatised. Apart from considerations of humanity and human rights, the future of Iraq will depend greatly on its women, many of whom, in the hitherto secular state, are well-educated professionals and a key resource in the reconstruction of the economy as well as the social fabric of communities.

Read the Guardian article here.

Hi Again

Many thanks indeed to Randa Jarrar who's been blogging at Moorishgirl on Fridays for several months now. I know some of you are wondering whether there will be any content here on Fridays and what prompted the change in schedule. As I get closer to the release of Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits I find that there is a lot that I want to talk about that doesn't always fit in the daily digests, recommendations, reviews, and other news I post during the week. So I wanted to devote Fridays to talking about Hope, and to share some of the latest news about it. Meanwhile Randa's blog, Rockslinga, continues to be one of my must-reads, and I urge you to add it to your bookmarks.

About

bio articles news contact rss

My Events

04.26: LA Times Festival of Books
04.30: Claremont, California
09.23-10.04: International Literature Festival Berlin

Search

Web Laila Lalami

My book

Hope & Other Dangerous Pursuits

In hardcover

Buy a Signed Copy!

In Morocco

De l’espoir et autres quêtes dangereuses

In Italian

La speranza e altri sogni pericolosi

In Portuguese

A Esperança È Uma Travessia

In french

De l’espoir et autres quêtes dangereuses

In dutch

Hoop en andere gevaarlijke verlangens Hoop en andere gevaarlijke verlangens (paperpack)

In spanish

Esperanza y Otros Sueños