The Agony Column

Glennon Doyle Melton “Carry On, Warrior”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

“Ironically, confession is a little bit addictive.”

— Glennon Doyle Melton

When I sit down to talk with Glennon Doyle Melton about her book ‘Carry On, Warrior,’ I feel just a bit out of place. I’m not quite in the expected audience for Momastery, her blog, but books are a different matter. And ‘Carry On, Warrior’ is wise, well-written and fun to read. That puts me right where I am, talking to the author about how and why the book came to be.

Glennon is hot off The Today Show when we sit down to speak, already well beyond the confines of my literary domain. As far as that goes, she always was, what with a blog post that went viral (my closest brushes with viral tend to involve viruses you need a microscope to see), and her dedicated followers that hang on her every word. (My readers tend to hang on the words of the writers I interview, and I try very hard to stay out of their way.)

But Glennon Doyle Melton has written an excellent book, one I can hold in my hands, and indeed, did hold in my hands as I read it and filled it up with stickies. So once we get the studio set up in her hotel room — her associate is there to keep us on time — conversation unfolds at a rather startling pace and I have to run my tiny brain just as fast as I can to stay in place.

The big fun part of this is that Glennon managed to be as spontaneous in person to the xhundredth interviewer to ask her about her blog as she is in her blog for her umpty-ump readers. She’s a great speaker, quite straightforward and without any hesitation. The girl you meet in the blog, the girl you meet on the pages, is the girl you meet in person. We talked about as much as we could until the clock ran out. You can hear just how much ground we covered (a lot!) in 51 minutes by following this link to the MP3 audio file.

Ben Katchor “Hand Drying in America”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

by Rick Kleffel

“…people are hesitant to make their own building into a ruin…”

— Ben Katchor

I had not yet twigged just yet to how much of a work of science fiction Ben Katchor’s ‘Hand Drying in America‘ was until I sat down to talk with him. It’s a matter of degree; I might have thought that the fantastic aspects were there for fun, which they are. But Katchor is very deliberate about his creative imagination.

He and I talked about the inclinations that drive him to create his work. He’s pretty straightforward about it. Ben Katchor is writing subversive science fiction hoping to tear apart the world and find a new, better one behind the walls. He’s interested in writing subversive political stories, and averse to being imprisoned. It seems like a reasonable expectation to me.

Given that much of the work is visual, our challenges were many. But rather than spend too much time describing what was there, we tried to focus on how and why it got there. You’ll find a smart use of color in these strips, something we covered at length.

Driving the work is a low-key subversive philosophy that Katchor talks about with great clarity. Were Katchor to beat his readers about the head with his beliefs, he feels he might drive them away. Instead he uses his fiction to make friends first, and get in our heads with the comic strip equivalent of a prion disease and ask questions later.

Katchor also has a great speaking voice; it matches his written voice to degree. You can hear our conversation about cities real and imaginary by following this link to the MP3 audio file.

Danielle Trussoni “Angelopolis”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

by Rick Kleffel

“I wanted it to be accurate…absolutely accurate.”

— Danielle Trussoni

Given the sprinting pace of ‘Angelopolis,’ it’s appropriate that Danielle Trussoni is herself almost sprinting. Her travel schedule is daunting to say the least, but she’s as composed as her angels might be as she checks into her hotel before our interview. She did not even have time to unpack before we started.

We spoke in a small meeting room upstairs at the Claremont Spa in Oakland, an opulent resort that looks like a chalet, a delicate white gothic structure in the hills above Oakland. None of that’s on display in the room where we talk however, so we’re able to focus on her two novels, ‘Angelology’ and ‘Angelopolis.’

I must admit given the title of her first novel, that I expected something a bit more along the lines of the new age books she tells me she did NOT find in the convent where her series began, for her as a writer. She already knew Evangeline in her heart, she told me, but finding what would become of the character took some work.

This involved research, and it was an aunt who helped her. Danielle’s story of writing these books is just about as compelling as the books themselves, and there are more than a few similarities. You can easily imagine Danielle herself in that library at night (she was in its model at the same time of night). She was her own gothic heroine, which might have made the characterization a bit easier.

But the real interest in these novels is the secret history she creates and the rich feel of the prose and the world she evokes. We talked about how she creates her secret history; that is, how she chooses the focal points that will act as story pivots. In spite of the fact that she loves history and writes well about it, it is not within history that she finds to lynchpins of plot.

Trussoni and also talked about her prose. In the first novel it is dark and detailed. In the second, it’s a bit sleeker, while being equally evocative. When Danielle and I talked about locations, it never occurred to me until afterward how appropriate a location the Claremont Spa was for our conversation. As I write, I’m wondering if the gothic aspects of this world follow her wherever she goes.

Lawrence Wright “Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

by Rick Kleffel

Here’s the ninety-first episode of my new series of podcasts, which I’m calling Time to Read. The podcasts/radio broadcasts will be of books worth your valuable reading time. I’ll try to keep the reports under four minutes, for a radio-friendly format. If you want to run them on your show or podcast, let me know.

My hope is that in under four minutes I can offer readers a concise review and an opportunity to hear the author read from or speak about the work. I’m hoping to offer a new one every week.

With this episode, I hope to be getting closer to catching up from the gap left by my recent voice loss. If I can finish editing Ruth Ozeki and get her book reviewed and the script for the Time to Read written, we’ll be back in what I consider the proper sequence. But next week may be devoted to much reading, I hope!

The ninety-first episode is a look at Lawrence Wright, ‘Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief‘.

Ruth Ozeki ‘A Tale for the Time Being’

Play

Photo: Courtesty of trashotron.com

by Rick Kleffel

“…through the act of writing, she would somehow conjure the reader into being…”

— Ruth Ozeki

I had the pleasure of speaking with Ruth Ozeki at the Capitola Book Café, in the morning before she appeared to talk about her new novel ‘A Tale for the Time Being.’ My little studio in their tiny back office was already set up when she arrived, so we sat down and I had her read the beginning of the novel.

It was amazing to hear Ozeki read, to hear her bring the voice of Nao alive with such ease. It was a transformation, an instantiation, a bringing-into-being that was accomplished with complete ease. In a trice, she handed the book back to me and we began to speak. The effect was something like stepping from one reality into another.

The novel seems so intricately woven and immaculately conceived that hearing the story behind its creation is nearly as interesting as the story itself, and to a degree, given the self-referential nature of the story, that’s to be expected. It’s fascinating to hear the many worlds that night have resulted had Ozeki take any one of a number of different turns in the course of creating ‘A Tale for the Time Being.’

Apparently, none of the interviewers she had spoken to hade twigged to what seemed to me to be a major element in the novel. I really don’t know whether that is to be attributed to the fact that perhaps other simply did not want to see those elements, or did not consider them important, or perhaps unseemly, that is, un-literary to discuss. I was happy to discuss these aspects with Ozeki, to the degree we were able to without stepping on the reading experience.

And that was the true goal of this conversation, to offer readers and listeners insights that would enhance their reading experiences whether they read the book before or after they heard the interview. We’ll give listeners clues about the novel, but you’ll want to read it yourself if you want to explore the world anew; and that’s entirely in keeping with this wonderful novel.

You can hear my conversation with Ruth Ozeki by following this link to the MP3 audio file.

Stephen Kessler “Scratch Pegasus”

Play

Stephen Kessler. Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

Here’s the ninety-third episode of my series of podcasts, which I’m calling Time to Read. Hitting the one-year mark, I’m going to make an effort to stay ahead, so that podcast listeners can get the same sort of “sneak preview” effect that radio listeners get each Friday morning.

The podcasts/radio broadcasts will be of books worth your valuable reading time. I’ll try to keep the reports under four minutes, for a radio-friendly format. If you want to run them on your show or podcast, let me know.

My hope is that in under four minutes I can offer readers a concise review and an opportunity to hear the author read from or speak about the work. I’m hoping to offer a new one every week.

The ninety-third episode is a look at Stephen Kessler and ‘Scratch Pegasus.’

MacKenzie Bezos “Traps”

Play

Photo courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

“…without intention or recognition, we’re playing important roles in the lives of other people…”

— MacKenzie Bezos

I have a very specific goal in most of my interviews, which is to speak as little about the actual events in a book as possible. I told this to MacKenzie Bezos as we sat down to talk about her novel ‘Traps,’ because to me the less you know about this book going in, the more you will enjoy it.

On the other hand, I do think it is possible to speak about the techniques used within a book in a manner that does not hinge on discussing the plot details. My hope is that readers can listen to an interview either before or after they read the book and enhance their reading experience. To me at least, this all sounds great in theory, but in practice it can be very difficult.

I explained this to Bezos and she agreed to work with me to this end, with, I feel, great success. Bezos is a crafty writer, in both senses of the word. She’s smart and kind of sneaky, in a good way, when it comes to putting together an intricate plot that offers lots of surprises, tension and suspense. But she also pays close attention to her craft in terms of prose, characterization, and the gut-level art that pulls the parts into an organic whole.

Bezos also thinks about all the aspects of craft as she writes her book, and in our interview she spoke quite eloquently about the ineffable parts of the creative process, the organic growth of a narrative as you write. In general the type of writing she does is very difficult to talk about if you don’t talk about plot, but she’s clearly thought enough about her writing process to speak about creating a work without addressing the specifics of the work.

The contingent of readers and writers who want to get a clean, crisp glimpse into the creative writing process will find a lot of very interesting techniques and attitudes described here. You can hear our conversation by following this link to the MP3 audio file.

Karen Russell “Vampires in the Lemon Grove”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

Here’s the eighty-eighth episode of my new series of podcasts, which I’m calling Time to Read. The podcasts/radio broadcasts will be of books worth your valuable reading time. I’ll try to keep the reports under four minutes, for a radio-friendly format. If you want to run them on your show or podcast, let me know.

My hope is that in under four minutes I can offer readers a concise review and an opportunity to hear the author read from or speak about the work. I’m hoping to offer a new one every week.

The eighty-eighth episode is a look at Karen Russell, ‘Vampires in the Lemon Grove‘.

Hugh Howey “Wool”

Play

 

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

Here’s the eighty-eighth episode of my new series of podcasts, which I’m calling Time to Read. The podcasts/radio broadcasts will be of books worth your valuable reading time. I’ll try to keep the reports under four minutes, for a radio-friendly format. If you want to run them on your show or podcast, let me know.

My hope is that in under four minutes I can offer readers a concise review and an opportunity to hear the author read from or speak about the work. I’m hoping to offer a new one every week.

The eighty-eighth episode is a look at Hugh Howey, ‘Wool‘.

David Rohde and Kristen Mulvihill “A Rope and a Prayer”

Play

Photo: courtesy of trashotron.com

By Rick Kleffel

Every day we live to look back upon is history. Yet even when we live it, it’s difficult to learn from our own history. So often, we make the same mistakes in our lives again and again. But that does not stop us from trying to improve our lives. It is the hope that has launched a thousand thousand self-help books. These books often turn on a single thought; they force us to examine our personal histories from the perspective of the author’s premise. In a sense, they personalize our personal histories.

So how can the people of a country or a culture learn from history? The details of our nation’s exploits are there for all to see and none to agree upon. Viewed from afar, what should be perspective is transformed into wiggle room. We pick and choose the facts to suit our beliefs.

There’s no picking and choosing going on in ‘A Rope and a Prayer,’ by David Rohde and Kristin Mulvilhill. The story of the kidnapping of New York Times reporter David Rohde, and how his new wife, Kristen Mulvihill, negotiated for his release, is laid out in sparse, harsh details. Though it reads like a page-turning action-packed thriller, it’s all undeniably true. A reader cannot help but be moved, and moved to think about our nation’s foreign policy. This is history wrought small, and very powerful. This is personal history.

The game plan is simple. In alternating chapters, ‘A Rope and a Prayer’ tells the story of David Rohde’s 2008 kidnapping by a sort of Taliban mafia, from his perspective, and from that of his new wife, Kristin Mulvihill. Neither wastes a single word. Eight pages in, Rhode, who is hoping to score one more interview that will add perspective to his book on Afghanistan, is kidnapped by armed men, including the man he was supposed to interview, Abu Teyy. His translator, the man who set up the interview, Tahir, and their driver, Asad, are also taken. His kidnappers initially seek $25 million ransom and the release of some fifteen prisoners. Kristin Mulvihill, his wife, first gets the news from David’s older brother Lee, but her smart, accommodating relatives let her take charge of the negotiations. It’s not fun — the Taliban call collect when they demand these multi-million dollar ransoms.

The back and forth story constantly seems about to come to an abrupt and generally unhappy end as Rohde’s captors consistently lie to him about his fate. He’s dragged from one surreal situation to another and along the way meets a variety of fascinating and weird people. High-tech jihadis and suicide bombers are his guards, and the man who seems to be in charge of his kidnapping take on a variety of names and personalities, sometimes kind, sometimes hectoring, sometimes casually brutal. Rohde is well-taken care of physically, and lackadaisically guarded. He often contemplates escape.

Mulvihill finds herself in equally surreal albeit seemingly friendlier company. The FBI steps in with silent power, but not a lot of grace. Legally, it seems there is little they can do beyond provide helpful advice and gather potential evidence for eventual prosecution. All our laws, police and armies are legally prevented from participating — officially. Mulvihill’s and Rohde’s families are Kristen’s first line of help. She has allies beyond, but they are not easily found, and what they can do is quite unpredictable.

‘A Rope and a Prayer’ is a compelling, engaging book to read, and it is almost possible to read it for thrills alone. Rohde and Mulvihill are both engaging writers with very different voices. Rohde writes hard facts with a deep feeling of regret and responsibility. If anything, he underplays the severity of what happens to him, because he is busy taking the brunt of responsibility for getting himself into this position in the first place. But he has a keen eye for developing the characters of his comrades and his captors, as well as his own state of mind. And he is being dragged at gunpoint, generally laying down in the back seats of cars, around one of the most dangerous places in the world.

Mulvihill finds herself stepping into situations whose contrasts threaten to submerge her in the surreal. She’s supervising the photo shoot of a fussy celebrity, then stepping out to view kidnap video in a car parked in front of Starbucks. She approaches her extreme situation with an understated appreciation of the absurdity, a quiet sense of humor that is pretty funny given the horror she is clearly simultaneously experiencing. She’s deeply in love with her new husband and intent on following her gut instinct, which generally proves to be correct.

Beyond the thrilling and the emotional power of this book, there is a deep sense of the cultural and political decisions that have created the world in which we find ourselves. Rohde has been in Afghanistan for years now, and his captivity offers him a chance to reflect and recount the actual history that not only got us into this conflict, but beyond that, the deep history of the region. All of this is tied into the deeply personal history of what is happening to Rohde at any given moment, and it’s a potent combination. Rohde makes history exciting, relevant and real. Mulvihill, meanwhile, offers a concise vision of the kidnapping process from the perspective of those being compelled to pay ransom or meet demands. As readers, we join her on a crash course in Kidnapping 101. The lessons we learn are not comforting.

But the overall arc of ‘A Rope and a Prayer’ does indeed offer substantial comfort — the comfort of knowledge, both factual and emotional. In their entrancing duet, Rohde and Mulvihill manage to make a very complicated message entertainingly and often excitingly clear. This is the excitement of understanding for the first time, the arcane history that has trapped us in a dangerous situation. We see the levers that have been pushed and pulled for centuries. Their history becomes ours — and something we can, potentially, learn from.