Writer’s Hands IV, hands of Bel Canto author, Ann Patchett, signing a copy of her latest book, Run, Fitzgerald Theater, downtown St. Paul, Minnesota, October 2007, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
Part I.
On a rainy October night, inside the haunted Fitzgerald Theater, Ann Patchett held the audience rapt. She has created a huge life for herself. A writer’s life. Awed by her confidence and poise, I was surprised to find she is also funny, and witty. Bel Canto was the novel that put her over the top. And earned her the alias, “Opera Girl.” But it was the memoir, Truth & Beauty, that drew me in.
My friend, Teri, read the book for one of Natalie Goldberg’s workshops. Then attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop last summer (where much of the book takes place). She suggested I read it. Along with Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face.
Suddenly, it was October, and Teri, Liz, and I grabbed dinner at Mickey’s Diner before walking across Exchange Street into the bustling, sold-out crowd at the Fitzgerald.
We found split seats tucked way in the left corner, right under the balcony. Opening with an airline joke about her lost luggage, Ann Patchett sat across from Kerri Miller wearing black jeans, black boots, and a burnt orange scarf. Casual. It didn’t matter. Her comments on grief and loss stilled the room. It was her grieving process for Lucy that became Truth & Beauty. There was no tour when the book came out. She seemed happy to talk about the healing.
Part II.
At times, Ann had the audience in stitches. Other moments, there were tears. Later she would joke with us, pose for a few photos, and sign our books. She seemed glad to be there.
I listened with hungry ears. Teri and I nudged each other anytime we heard some snippet of wisdom, another link in the chain of making our way as writers. Liz took notes in the seat behind us (thanks, Liz!). And every once in a while we would explode into laughter at one of Ann’s jokes.
I soaked it all up. What did I learn?
- She doesn’t have to write every day. She has no rituals or rules.
- She doesn’t write between books. She rests.
- After writing her books, she lets them go. She doesn’t read them again. She doesn’t even remember Bel Canto. She’s moved on.
- The idea that’s cookin’ may not be the book at all.
- Writing a novel is about faking it with authority.
- Two words: pen pal. She has close pen pals.
- A new definition of pornography was forged when Clemson University (in South Carolina) strenuously objected to Truth & Beauty being on the freshman class syllabus, claiming it was filled with “pornography.” There was a protest; Ann needed a bodyguard to make her speech.
- Profound, close relationships between two women scare a lot of people.
- Run, Bambi, Run!
- The center cannot hold; the falcon cannot hear the falconer.
- When you write a new book and go on tour, people really want you to talk about the last book because that’s the one they last read. (In this case, the last two books.)
- She met her best friend and writer, Elizabeth McCracken, during the living of Truth & Beauty. She trusts her with her life.
- She writes 98 percent for herself, 2 percent for Elizabeth, and no one else.
- You can’t put love on the scales.
- In her mid 30’s, she had no knowledge of opera, had never been to an opera, had never listened to an opera. But after Bel Canto, when something goes on in the world of opera, The New York Times calls “Opera Girl.”
- Research brings her a lot of joy. She hates magic. Why? Magic is the most misogynist art form in the world
- No experience matches the moment she finished her first published novel, The Patron Saint Of Liars.
- She was two blocks away from the World Trade Center when it went down. She was holding someone’s hand.
Part III.
The Fitzgerald Theater (Outside), night of Ann Patchett, author of Bel Canto and Truth & Beauty: A Friendship, on MPR’s Talking Volumes, St. Paul, Minnesota, October 2007, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
What I want to say is that Ann was inspiring. She didn’t pull any punches. She was at the same time vulnerable and strong. Very strong. She knows how to take the criticism of her readers, and the country. She mentors others, gives back. But also seems like she guards her time with her life.
The day after we saw her at the Fitz, she flew to Dallas. Or somewhere in the heart of Texas. The tour went on. I smiled when I thought about her missing luggage. I wondered if Run would do well. But I could tell it wouldn’t matter all that much. She’s already moved on. She’s looking in the eyes of a stranger, waiting for the next book. She’s doing what she’s wanted to do since she was 5 years old. She never wavered for a moment. She’s a writer.
In the moment of our death, we are closest to our life. And the person who is with us at that moment is the person that we desperately need. Because they’re the only person who really understands what we’ve been through.
– Ann Patchett, Fitzgerald Theater, October 16th, 2007
Part IV.
Post Script: Don’t take my word for any of this. To hear Ann speak about ichthyology, magic, Bel Canto, bodyguards, Opera Girl (and to find out whose hand she was holding), listen to her talk in its entirety at the link below (you might even recognize a familiar voice during the audience Q&A):
Live appearance: Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Patchett discussed “Run” with Kerri Miller and the Talking Volumes audience at the Fitzgerald Theater.
Related links you might enjoy:
Seattle Arts and Lectures: Elizabeth McCracken & Ann Patchett
Novelists, 5th Avenue Theatre, January 10, 2000
StarTribune Article on Ann Patchett
Setting Her Own Pace, October 2007
(you may have to register and log in to read)
-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, November 6th, 2007
-related to posts: WRITING TOPIC: WHAT HAVE YOU LOST & F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Birthday Celebration
Ann’s hand across the book in this picture looks completely graceful. What a shot, QM.
I loved that night, too, and hearing her, and running through the rain to get to the Fitzgerald, and the fact that every seat was taken for an author reading from her book.
And I was humbled by how she treated us when we went up to have her sign your books and my program. That she took a moment to see us. That when we (sort of sheepishly) asked if Liz could take a picture of us together that she hopped right out of her chair to pose with us.
And what she said about grief. That there is a certain amount of grief we have to go through when someone close to us dies. We can either grieve fast and all at once, or we can take the rest of our lives grieving. When Lucy died she stayed in bed for weeks (or was it a few months?) and cried and wrote and wrote and cried. Then it was done, and something sweet was left in place of the grief.
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She has beautiful hands. They look smooth yet strong.
I enjoyed reading your list of what you learned that night. You’ve left me hanging on what some of them mean, and I suppose that was your intention — clever, QM, now I’m going to listen to the talk ; – ).
I’m reading Patron Saint of Liars. I decided to start at the beginning, although I’ve read Bel Canto. But I’ll get to the memoir after this, then Run.
She seems like a most likeable person. Down to earth. Glad Minneapolis turned out for her.
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I enjoyed this thoroughly. Why is it, reading about a writer makes me want to write?
I was curious about this one, “The center cannot hold; the falcon cannot hear the falconer.” …I’ll give you a cookie if you’ll elaborate on that a bit. I’m mystified.
And the writing 98% for her, 2% for Elizabeth… did you believe that? I’m not skeptical as I didn’t hear her speak, I’m just curious if that rang true. Kind of mind boggling if it is true, even on writing a blog I feel constantly influenced (if even subconsciously) by the presence of other people.
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That one (98% for herself) stood out for me, too, amuirin. And yes, blogging probably does, more than other forms of writing, subject us to the “do I want the world to read this?” test. Although I TRY not to be too much more concerned by that than I would be were I writing a work of memoir. (Harder said than done, as blogging is a daily exercise, different than writing a book.)
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amuirin, I was ecstatic when I read the first few sentences of your comment. Reading about other writers makes me want to write, too. I was on fire to write after seeing her.
About the falcon and the falconer. If I’m not mistaken, she was talking about the incident at Clemson when she recited the line. I think she’s referencing the first few lines of the W. B. Yeats poem, The Second Coming:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
The poem sounded familiar to me…then I remembered that we had read it aloud last July in one of Natalie Goldberg’s summer workshops. I did a presentation on Chinua Achebe’s 1958 novel, Things Fall Apart, and Achebe named his book after the line from The Second Coming. He prefaces the book with the first four lines.
Joan Didion’s collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem, references the poem, too. Here’s the poem in its entirety (found on Wiki – LINK). (There’s also more about Yeats at the Free Library of Philadelphia blog – LINK.) Oh, about the cookie – I like oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip. 8)
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Teri, she did have a lot of humility. It wasn’t apparent to me at first as she was so witty and sometimes sarcastic. But the longer we were there, the more vulnerable she allowed herself to be. By the end, when we went up for the book signing, she had me. I was so surprised when she rose for the photo. It’s a gem. I have to send you a copy for your album of writers’ photos. 8) (I hope you’re still adding to it!)
The things she said about grief, I will carry them with me always. Together with the book, Truth & Beauty, one can learn a lot about loss.
You know, when I heard her speak, I could have sworn she said she wrote Truth & Beauty in the 9 weeks following Lucy’s death. But then when I read the StarTribune account, I think it quoted her as saying 3 weeks. So, on that point, I’m confused. Either way, 3 or 9, it’s quite an accomplishment to crank that kind of writing out of intense grief.
I like what you said about replacing her grief with her memoir. Have you read any of her fiction? I wondered if she had inspired you to read her other works.
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ybonesy, I’m reading The Magician’s Assistant. I just started it. Liz bought the book for me in the lobby of the Fitz that night and Ann signed it with a little rabbit popping out of a hat. She said it was her signature, signature for that tour. Well, I’m paraphrasing. What did you think of Bel Canto? (Oh, BTW, her hands were both smooth and strong. I noticed that, too.)
Oh, thanks, Teri, about the photograph. I had two other photographs of her hands that I liked where she was actually signing her name. But there was something about this one, the way her hand was so relaxed on the book, I just had to go with it. I’m really enjoying this series of photos. I’ve got other authors yet to post. 8)
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amuirin, I *did* believe her about the 98%. She was very convincing. Also the way she said she doesn’t read her novels again. And that by the time a writer tours, that book is so over for them. She seemed to have a philosophy about letting go of what was done. She never saves anything. And it was her mother that got her to save the letters from Lucy that ended up in T&B. So, yeah, I did believe her – that she writes for herself. And lets go. (She’s also human. And already successful as a writer. So, there is that!)
But, that said, I know what ybonesy’s saying about the immediacy of blogging. Not only is it a daily practice, but it’s a practice where you are publishing something VERY public each day (as opposed to writing a book or doing writing practice, where you are keeping most of that to yourself on a day-to-day basis). I don’t know what I think about blogging yet in relationship to the overall picture of writing. It’s a dedicated practice. But it’s evolving for me. I have to see where I land.
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[…] Quoin Monkey Paying up. Loved the poem, links […]
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QM,
your piece is very evocative – it’s strange being on the other side of the Atlantic and identifying with a crowd of pilgrims in a faraway city going to pay hommage to a writer you’ve never heard of whose books you’ve never heard of and still be caught up in the experience. I’m impressed! And the hand is very eloquent – of you as much as of its owner!
The Yeats poem is enormous. I virtually never read any poetry, and only seldom hear it on the radio. All the more reason to be mesmerised when coming into contact with something of this calibre. I always used to wish that, as I very rarely go to the cinema now, I could somehow manage to see only the greatest films – actually, as often as not I end up with rubbish – and I guess the same goes for poetry. But Yeats of course is Irish, and the Irish are something else …
The 98% puzzles me. On one level, I understand the meaning, But deeper down, I don’t believe that anyone writes for themselves, but that they do so as a form of reaching out to others. I know for a fact that since I started blogging in August of this year I’ve written more poetry in 3 months than I probably had in three decades – and because of two things – first, being moved by others’ writing; second, having (even if vitualised!) people I wanted to write for/to. So apologies, I’m not a dyed-in-the-wool Patchettite on this one. In another way – yes. If you write looking over your shoulder at how ‘they’ are going to respond, then I think you’re in deep trouble.
I get the feeling that this might be the beginning of another discussion topic. Who do YOU write for? What does anyone else think?
Writing (blogging) -quantity versus quality. One of my correspondents has the ambition to be (maybe) a one-book writer – like the author of Gone with the Wind (can’t remember who it is!) Any takers for this one?
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P.S. 1) Microsoft Word has paid hommage to my spelling of hommage by giving it a wavy red line; 2) for vitualised, read viRtualised! Mind you, vitualised (echos of victuals?) does seem rather cute.
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Microsoft Word is good able making me feel special at times, too.
But what I really want to say, stranger, is you got a lot of rich stuff in that comment. You’re right, there is a topic in “Who do YOU write for?” It’s huge! Every writer I’ve listened to or read who talks about his or her writing says, you have to write for yourself, or you write because you HAVE to write. In other words, the act of writing is as integral to that person as the act of breathing, and in some respects, “writing for oneself” can be interpreted with importance placed on the verb “writing” as much as the outcome or content — what is written.
And then there’s the matter of one-book writers. Well, if I didn’t need to get ready this morning, I’d be here for a while, as that’s a topic that intrigues me much.
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stranger, some great comments. I don’t know where to begin. I’m still thinking about some of the things you said. I agree with you, I’m not sure a person could write 98% for themselves. As writers, we write for ourselves…BUT we write to be heard by others, even if it’s only reading our practices out loud at a workshop or in a writing group. Blogging is a whole different animal. We’re always having to think about immediate and public mass consumption.
On the not being a dyed-in-the-wool Patchettite on the 98% thing 8) – that reminded me of something I learned from Natalie last year – we don’t have to agree with or even like a book or author to learn something from them. Many times it’s the things we don’t agree with that teach us the most. For that reason, I now try to finish books that I don’t necessarily like (before I would have thrown them aside and said, Life’s too short!). I try now to study what I don’t like about them. The things I don’t agree with tell me a lot about me.
Who DO we write for? Great question. I always wonder if the answer changes depending on the type of writing we are doing. In my personal writing practices, I write only for me. But my public writing, is it unconsciously (or even consciously) tailored to an audience? And, if so, is that a bad thing? Or does it give the writing direction? I have to think about this more.
ybonesy, I remember something Rob Wilder said, that the audience can always tell if the writing and the writer are not authentic. In that sense, I guess it does matter.
The Yeats poem, I’m amazed at how many people, especially writers, have been moved by those 22 lines (and that they are applicable to every generation. I think I read that he wrote it right after World War I). It gives me great hope that writers *can* make a difference in the world.
About the author of Gone With The Wind, I can’t imagine trying to be a one-book writer. The pressure of that! That reminds me, I always wanted to read that book and never have. Coming from the U.S. South, it seemed like I should. Has anyone here read it?
Thanks for your great comments, stranger. I will ponder more.
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When I heard Ann say the 98% line, it came across that she writes what she wants, what matters to her. It was a relief when she said. As in, she doesn’t sell out. I don’t have to, either. I don’t have to churn out some drivel I don’t care about.
I have only read Truth and Beauty (though want to read all her work in time), and was so surprised by presence. In T & B she was the long-suffering friend dealing with a self-centered drug and alcohol abuser. I thought she’d be a real pushover. She’s got some steel.
I read Gone With The Wind (it’s on Mr. Schminda’s list) years ago. At the time I was reading it, there was some controversy if Margaret Mitchell had written it or not. Some big study by a historian or professor. It really cooled my enthusiasm about the book…wondering if it was a fraud book in some way.
Incidentally, I saw Mr. Schminda last week at funeral in my hometown. He served me the host during communion (sweet), and we laughed our heads off during the church basement lunch about how dramatic he got during 11th grade English. He seemed unable to remember how he acted during the discussion of Moby Dick.
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Teri, I like your take on the 98% – she writes what she wants, what matters to her. Like tackling the research for a book about opera with absolutely NO experience. She did it because that’s where her writing led her. In that sense, she didn’t let the self-censor stop her either.
Hey, I wanted to thank you for the nudge to go and see Ann. I don’t know if I would have gone if you hadn’t mentioned it. (Same way with Galway Kinnell earlier in the year.) It’s good to have writing pals in your own hometown! 8)
I can’t believe you saw the famous, Mr. Schminda (of Mr. Schminda’s List fame)! That is so cool! And that you two had a good laugh about his seriousness about English class and great literature. You can’t beat that!
For those who aren’t familiar, here’s the LINK to The World According To Mr. Schminda (top books to read before college!).
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Really cool about Mr. Schminda. Does he know he’s immortalized on our blog? ; – )
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Anyone that’s doing something they have wanted to since the age of five must have great passion and amazing vision. It’s always wonderful to hear about a person making their dreams come true for it inspires others to follow. Me…I have trouble just sticking with my original order in a restaurant when I see other food delivered around me.
QM, The first reading I ever sat for was Miss Irwin in the 4th grade. She brought the first edition of Charlotte’s Web to our young ears. She was gifted with a beautiful voice, and though the words were not her own, she made me weep like a baby before it was over.
So…where’s the snap of you guys? Is there pink hair being concealed somewhere? I rather like pink hair.
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The pink hair…oh, dear, Heather, the secret is out. 8) If it was a private blog, I might post the snapshot. It looks like the 3 of us have known each other forever. Very relaxed. Kind of rare these days. Maybe someday we’ll have our own novels or memoirs and be able to look back and go, “Hey, remember that rainy night we saw Ann Patchett at the Fitz?” The dream is alive and well!
That’s pretty cool about Miss Irwin. I hear writers tell so many stories about how their teachers inspired them to read or write. And storytelling is as old as the hills, isn’t it. I wonder if Miss Irwin knew how big of an impact she had on you?
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Heather, I forgot to mention…I’ve always been amazed by people who knew exactly what they wanted to do from early childhood. I only know a couple of people like that. But then, I wonder, maybe everyone knows but not everyone listens. I was taking snapshots and photographs and writing nearly all my life. But it took me a long time to actually go for it. I wonder what it is that drives people to forge ahead on one track from the tender age of 5. And give themselves permission to do so, no matter what.
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QM — I’ve really enjoyed the depth and range of the dicussion following this post. I don’t have a lot to add, except that Mr. Shminda is right and you should read “Gone with the Wind.” I read it one summer in high school. Regardless of who wrote it, it is a book that does relationships and human emotions well. As I think about it, it may be the first book I read that caused me to look closely at loss and grief…there is a lot of it in that book… and I remember crying while I read it. I’m impressed by a book where you do not just recognize the loss, but you feel it, as if you’d lost something, too. Margaret Mitchell sets up that kind of involvement with her characters by developing them well.
Saying all that, I haven’t read the book for a l-o-o-ong time. So many years and books later, I don’t know if it would affect me as strongly if I read it now. I’ve seen a lot more personal life loss and grief now and reading about it might not hit me as hard in this part of life.
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This reminds me, I saw the movie “The Way We Were” when I was 13 or 14. I cried and cried afterwards, went home, sat in a bathtub and cried. Earlier this year I was curious about what had affected me so deeply about that movie, so I watched it again. It didn’t have nearly the effect (no surprise), although I could kind of see why it did the first time around.
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HA! Me too yb!!! That one and Bless the Beasts and the Children. I looked at my girlfriend and said”What were we thinking!”
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Bless the Beasts and the Children?! I remember that one!
Gosh, I can’t remember who was in it, though.
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yb, it was Billy Mummy…and don’t bother…really!
The only two from childhood that I still hold dear to my heart are “Harold and Maude” and “Being There”.
QM, If my 5 year old ambitions had stayed true all these years…I would be a cotton candy maker…and the very thought now of being “sticky” makes me squirm… 😉
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Heather, LOL, a cotton candy maker. That actually sounds like a fun and admirable profession.
breathpeace, I’ll check out Gone With The Wind and see if it’s something I can tackle right now. It’s interesting that it taught you about loss and grief. I had to think about that. Then when I remembered the movie, I thought about the grief associated with place and culture.
I have had the experience a few times of trying to pick up books again that I’ve read years before. And I can’t seem to get into them. It’s a rare book that I can read twice. I recently experienced this with an old Vonnegut book I tried to pick up again. It does make you think.
Same way with movies, ybonesy. But there are a few classics that I’ve watched more than once. Fried Green Tomatoes, I love. Silence of the Lambs I’ve seen more than once. I watched The Usual Suspects twice. There are others, but I can’t think of them right now. With literature, it seems like I only read it once.
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Heather, in another strange coincidence (or connection), my latest Netflix arrival (which has been sitting for over two weeks waiting for me to watch it) is Being There.
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Heather, I love Harold and Maude. Didn’t know about Being There. When I checked it out, I saw that they were both Hal Ashby directed movies. I tend to like his movies. Eccentric and not afraid to explore subjects and emotions no one wants to talk about. Now I want to rent Being There. ybonesy, let me know how you like it.
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A good writing friend sent this Ann Patchett quote to me the other day (Thank you!). I wanted to add it to the end of this post, lest it get lost.
December 2nd was Ann Patchett’s birthday. And she was featured on the The Writer’s Almanac (see link on our sidebar under LYNX). Here’s The Writer’s Almanac quote sent by my friend:
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[…] think it’s the stylus — makes her feel grown-up. I can’t put down the book Run by Ann Patchett. And the Jelly Bellies that were in my stocking. I’ve eaten all the ones that have […]
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QM,
I just read the quote you posted (#28). Wow…Ann proclaimed that writing made her happy, and that she didn’t want friends, kids, travel.
Having just started to come out of a holiday season where one “must” report in to family and other inquiring minds about the status of the normal things people are “supposed” to strive for, it is a relief to read this.
As writers we get to be abnormal. Good for us.
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[…] you might stop by red Ravine when you have the […]
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[…] do you stay grounded, traveling all over the country promoting a new book. I remembered something Ann Patchett said when I saw her speak last year at the Fitzgerald – when you go on book tour, prepare to talk about the last book you wrote. It’s the […]
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[…] Must-See Charlie Rose interviewed Lucy Grealy on November 16, 1994. She is the last guest on his hour-long program. Her interview starts approximately at 38:20 on the youtube video below. [Note: It’s advised that you let the show run its course versus trying to fast-forward to the start of the interview; the latter could get the audio and video out of sync.] -Related to post Ann Patchett – On Truth, Beauty, & The Adventures Of “Opera Girl” […]
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[…] Ann Patchett – On Truth, Beauty, & The Adventures Of “Opera Girl” – notes and photographs from an evening with Ann Patchett at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, Minnesota […]
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I fell in love with Ann Patchett many, many Moons ago. It’s a writers love affair that continues to pass the test of time. In July, a friend gifted me with Ann’s most recent book — State of Wonder. I devoured the entire book last Sunday, beginning to end. It’s the second Ann Patchett book I have started and not been able to put down.
It was the same friend that went with me to see Ann Patchett in 2007 at the Fitzgerald (the same Fall I wrote this post) who gave me State of Wonder. I want to reread it, study the structure of the book, see what it is that makes me love Ann’s work. The research, the history, the context, the play between past and present. All of it. Plus when we got our books signed in 2007, Ann was one of the most friendly and pleasant authors I have ever met. And funny.
My friend went to see her this year in St. Paul. I missed it, but the interview has been recorded. After I listen to it, I’ll try to come back and leave a link. I know Ann talks to Kerri Miller about hope. How’s it’s not exactly a thing with feathers. Ann thinks that hope is overrated. I found a few lines in State of Wonder that bears that out. Write quickly, Ann. I am waiting to fall in love with your next book.
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[…] -related to posts: The Ant & The Grasshopper – Ann Patchett & Lucy Grealy, Which Came First, The Grasshopper Or The Egg?, Ann Patchett – On Truth, Beauty, & The Adventures Of “Opera Girl” […]
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