Host John Valeri was kind enough to add me to his roster of authors. You can watch the interview here.
Hey, everyone. When COVID-19 struck and changed all our lives, the lovely folks behind the Newburyport Literary Festival were convinced it spelled the end of this year’s event.
NOT SO! Just check out their website, Newburyport Literary Festival to find out about all the wonderful options.
I’m delighted to be part of things, and will appear, live and in person, at noon to talk about ELEPHANT SPEAK: A Devoted Keeper’s Life Among the Herd.
I hope you’ll join us!
By the end of our day at the zoo–and walking around Portland, window-shopping and stuffing ourselves with great food–I was more toast than human. We’d planned on driving the three hours of Bend, OR that night, but Ed and I were both so wrung out we opted to spend another night in the City of Roses. Morning had us on the road bright and early, bidding a tearful goodbye to my friend Wendy, who had to head home to Delaware.
If you’ve never driven from Portland to Bend, I heartily encourage you to do so. It’s a windy trek of road, and often a bit congested depending upon the time of year, and one can become caught behind a laboring big rig. However, there are compensations:
You watch Hood from a distance, then begin the climb up its flank. Suddenly, you round a turn in the road and the mountain is right there, in your face: miraculous, immense, ancient, and breathtaking.
Before you know it, you’re over the mountain and heading into the high desert country of eastern Oregon. I had little experience of desert before coming to Bend the first time, a couple of brief visits to Arizona was all. Against all expectation from this water-loving, Scottish-weather sort of girl, I fell in love with the high country. Maybe my love of Westerns fed it, at least in part, but there was something comfortable about the feel of the place against my skin and against my mind. I can’t explain it any clearer than that. I’ve never been in a position to pull the car over and get out to snap some pictures (there’s precious few places wide enough to pull over and the road can be busy), but thanks again to the folks at Pixabay, I can show you what it looks like. (Photos courtesy of ArielJ and Ally Laws.)
So, we at last landed in Bend, one of my favorite cities, at the home of Don and Bev Henneous (Roger’s brother and sister-in-law) who were generous enough to save us from yet another hotel room. I’ve stayed with them before and it’s always a good time. Poor Bev had fallen a few days earlier and broken her kneecap which prevented them from attending the big launch event in Portland. But Bev, being Bev, wasn’t about to let something as significantly insignificant as a broken bone deter her when the events to come were practically in her own backyard.
That evening’s event was held at Roundabout Books, an independent shop in Bend owned by Cassie Clemans. If you’re in the area, go. This is a nifty, nifty bookstore; small, but packed to the gills with so much wonderfulness that I was disappointed I didn’t have time to browse. (That time constraint likely saved my bank account.) Cassie and the other women who run the store were unable to be there, but left the program in the capable hands of their spouses Andy, JD, and Jonathan, who are terrific guys all-around and managed to pack about 40 people into the exhibit space. Because Roger’s hands are quite afflicted with arthritis, his daughter Michelle was thoughtful enough to provide a signature stamp so he could add his name to mine. The audience was engaged, enthusiastic, and so much fun to be with. Plus, their questions were terrific.
(Beginning top left: Roger and me with some of the wonderful crew from Ooligan Books: Vivian Nguyen, Julie Collins, and Emma Wolf; the Roundabout events board; signing the author table; during the presentation; the book display; Roger and me signing books; Roundabout interior; connecting with Roger prior to the event; and Roger gets to sign the table, too.)
Our last event of the World Tour was held at Sunriver Books & Music (Fact, Fiction, and Flights of Fancy) in Sunriver, Oregon. I jokingly say that Deon Stonehouse, who owns the store with her husband Richard, accosted me at the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association Trade Show last October, but that isn’t far from the truth. I’d no more made my way from the podium after giving my seven-minute presentation, and sat down at the table where I’d be signing ARCs (advance readers copies) when this whirlwind of a woman appeared and breathlessly announced, “Your book is the only reason I came to this!” (What writer doesn’t want to hear that?) She inquired whether I could be induced to come west again to appear at her store and of course I said yes. Now here we were at last, face to face once more, with the added delight of meeting Richard and the rest of the Sunriver Books & Music team (including a German shepherd puppy that near-about stole the show.)
(From top left: the presentation, showing a picture of Roger taken on his last day at the zoo (he always expresses gratitude for those sunglasses, so no one could see his tears in taking leave of his girls); Q&A time; Roger signs books while I get to wear the famous hat (he was a complete chick-magnet); two Sunriver Books interior shots; the after-party with family and friends; the crowd begins to gather; two shots of the book display.)
This crowd gave me some of the best, most thought-provoking and insightful questions, opinions, and observations of the entire trip. We could have easily slipped into a brainstorming session on how best to secure the survival of elephants … which is precisely what Roger hoped the book might do, inspire others to use their resources (mental, physical, financial) to carry the elephants into the future. I could not have been more pleased.
Sunday brought us early to the Portland airport (watching the sun rise over the desert and illuminate Mount Hood is an image I’ll never forget) and a long flight home. There aren’t words enough to thank everyone involved: Roger’s family and friends who came out in force to support him and me; the folks at Powell’s, Bob Lee and his team at the Oregon Zoo, Roundabout, and Sunriver who believe the book has merit (I agree!); and my wonderful crew at Ooligan (with a special shout-out to Abbey Gaterud, Julie Collins, Melinda Crouchley, Vivian Nguyen, and Emma Wolf. Special-special kudos to Sydnee Chelsey and Faith Munoz, who jumped into a car and drove three hours from Portland to Bend with extra books because we were afraid we’d run out).
Particular thanks to the Henneous clan, who welcomed me so warmly into their home and their lives; to Wendy Carofano, who wildly decided to hop a flight and come 3,000 miles just to provide support to a friend; and particularly to my husband Ed Everett, who kept all the loose ends (including this author) from flapping in the wind. I love you all.
And then there’s Roger–muse, mentor, friend, father, ally, and partner on this journey. There’d have been no book without his trust in me, his willingness to tell his story, and his bravery in facing down the dark days of the past. I love and admire him beyond words. We drive each other crazy sometimes, as often happens in the very best of relationships, but we always have each other’s back. I love him immensely, and can’t imagine a world without him in it.
Okay, so maybe not the entire world, but let’s not get too picky here. I did cross an entire continent for these events, and it’s a grand thing I’m a morning person, because I usually have to get up at something like o-dark-stupidly early to catch a flight to Oregon. This trip turned out to be far more civilized, with a departure time of 10 am. What luxury! Usually, I’m up at 2 in order to eat, shower, and drive to the airport because I’m one of those obsessive people who doesn’t like to challenge the notion of being there two hours before flight time because God knows I MIGHT MISS THE FLIGHT!!!!!!!! (I’ve been known to arrive at the airport as much as three hours in advance of my flight if I’m not sure of how to get to the airport. Also, I don’t much like to drive in the dark–blame my cataracts–so that’s an added thing.)
I heard that. Shut up.
We left Hartford on time and landed in Chicago without incident. (That’s what you want on a flight, isn’t it? No incidents. The lady sitting next to me as a tad on the bitchy side–she griped at the edge of my jacket straying over onto her section of seat–and then talked about nothing but her family, although I hadn’t said a word to engage her in conversation. Turn-around in The Windy City was brief (just under an hour, during which I fielded a series of emails regarding an additional television appearance to promote the book and my appearance at Powells) and then we were on our way again. I spent this longer leg of the flight trying to read, failing abysmally at Sudoku, and working on my presentation.
Portland, Oregon at last! Oh, frabjous day, callooh callay! (As Lewis Carroll put it.) Ed, my brilliant husband and chief member of what he called my entourage, made our hotel reservation for literally minutes from the airport, so a quick drive deposited us at Hampton Inn. Ten minutes later, we joined company with one of my oldest and dearest friends, my heart-sister Wendy Carofano, who I’ve known since seventh grade. She flew all the way from Delaware to offer moral support and serve as my “roadie.” How’s that for devotion?
We met up with Michelle Henneous for dinner and then called it an early night because the next day was
We arrived at television station KATU for their morning show, Portland AM Northwest, and were directed to the Green Room where we met the other guests and generally hung out talking and sharing news until it was time for each of us to be outfitted with a remote microphone and take our turn in the hot-seat with show host Helen Raptis. (That’s me with Wendy on the left, and with Ed on the right.) If you’d like to watch my segment, just click here.
I’d never done a television interview before, but Helen and her crew made the entire process a breeze. I wasn’t the least bit nervous, probably because I’ve been immersed in this subject for five years. What was there to be afraid of?
Once we were through, we had a few hours lag time before returning for the KATU afternoon program, Portland Afternoon Live, so we tooled around Portland. We grabbed lunch at a small but amazing salad place (kale! Yes!) and made a brief visit to Powell’s City of Books where I saw ELEPHANT SPEAK on a store bookshelf for the first time, quite a thrill I must say. Wendy immediately went into sales mode with a gentleman who was looking at it, and the next thing I knew, he was asking me to sign his copy.
Back we went to KATU’s Green Room for my afternoon piece. (Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a link to that on their website, but the interview was much the same as the morning one.)
By the time we left the studio I was … how shall I put this? … I believe toast is the correct word. Some of it was due to travel the day before, but the greater part of my fatigue was because I am, at heart, an introvert. I have to work very hard to engage with people, particularly strangers, and find it difficult to be “on” for protracted lengths of time. We had several hours to spare before the evening book launch (!!!) at Powell’s, so I opted to return to the hotel, climb under the covers, and close my eyes. I didn’t sleep, but did rest some, and spent part of that time zoning out with the new Godzilla movie.
Ed chose an awesome Italian restaurant called Allora, at 504 NW 9th Avenue. Wendy went exotic with rabbit ragu, and Ed had cioppino (a seafood stew), but I opted for down-home, stick to your ribs goodness with their house-made polpette (essentially spaghetti and meatballs). Wine and panna cotta rounded out the meal, and by the time we arrived at Powell’s, I was raring to go.
Let me tell you a bit about Powell’s City of Books, the ultimate book mecca for anyone who loves the written word. They’re the largest independent bookstore in the world and have been serving the city of Portland since 1971. They employ over 530 people in five area stores (and Powells.com) and their book inventory (take a deep breath) exceeds two million volumes. (The main store takes up an entire city block.)
To quote in part from their website, “Powell’s roots began in Chicago, where Michael Powell opened his first bookstore in 1970 … Michael’s dad, Walter Powell, a retired painting contractor, worked one summer in the Chicago store. He so enjoyed his experience that upon returning to Portland he opened his own used bookstore. Walter swamped his original location by buying every marketable used book that came through the door, finally pushing the whole operation into a former car dealership on Northwest Burnside … In 1979, Michael joined Walter in Portland, creating a bookstore with a unique recipe that, though viewed as unorthodox, worked: used and new, hardcover and paperback, all on the same shelf; open 365 days a year; and staffed by knowledgeable and dedicated booklovers. Four decades later, Powell’s Books is a cornerstone of the community and continues to operate as a third-generation family-owned business with Emily Powell at the helm. Says Emily: “My grandfather taught me that our job is to connect the writer’s voice with the reader’s ear and not let our egos get in between. My father taught me not only the love of the book itself but also how to love the business of bookselling.”
Small wonder that walking through the door left me feeling like I’d just come home. (I’m there in the small print, on the left, fourth from the top.)
And what a time it was! The Powell’s staff was energetic, engaging, and serious about their work. They had me set up in no time, and I watched is something like disbelief as the crowd gathered … and gathered … and gathered … until more chairs had to be brought in. And with that, I began. (More to follow tomorrow)
There’s something very special when you receive a package, open it, and find this inside:
Official birthday: March 3, 2020. Order yours today through your favorite independent bookstore. Thank you.
As the ELEPHANT SPEAK launch date approaches, I thought I’d give everyone a run down for the month of March (so far):
March 4 – KATU “Afternoon Live” appearance (to air between 2-3 pm)
BOOK LAUNCH – Powell’s City of Books, 1005 W. Burnside Street, Portland, OR at 7:30 pm.
March 5 – Elephant Lands Keeper Talk – Oregon Zoo, 4001 SW Canyon Road, Portland, OR at 12:30 pm. Book signing to follow at Gift Shop.
March 6 – Roundabout Books – 900 NW Mt. Washington Drive #110, Bend, OR at 6:00 pm.
March 7 – Sunriver Books – 57100 Beaver Drive, Bldg. 25C, Sunriver, OR at 5:00 pm
March 14 – Bank Square Books, 53 West Main Street, Mystic, CT from 1-3 pm.
Very happy to say that Barnes and Noble will carry ELEPHANT SPEAK.
It wasn’t my intention to be absent from this blog for so long, but I was waylaid by a vestibular migraine, something I’ve experienced most of my life, but was actually diagnosed last April. For those who don’t know (and who would, unless they had them?), vestibular migraines (in my case at least) present with no headache pain, but with debilitating vertigo and motion sensitivity, as well as sensitivity to bright light and sound.
Fun times, no? Decidedly no.
The after effect is bone-deep exhaustion, making it difficult to do much of anything for several days. Again, no fun.
But I’m back on the horse, as they say, and although I’m having some residual minor side-effects, overall I feel pretty well. Well enough, anyway, to announce that yesterday was amazing.
How so, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
First came the news that ELEPHANT SPEAK received a wonderful review in Publisher’s Weekly! If you’d like to read it, click here, but be aware that there are spoilers. (And one teensy error. Where “Crandall” shows up about half-way through, substitute “Henneous.”) I’m honored that they felt my book merited a review.
The second bit of news is that I’ve been chosen to be a guest at the Newburyport Literary Festival in Newburyport, MA on April 24-25, 2020. I’m a huge fan of Newburyport and have been visiting there, and on Plum Island, for decades, so I’m really looking forward to spending time in one of my all time favorite places, put in some hours on the beach, and get to know lots of writers and readers. Plus, Newburyport is home to Jabberwocky Books, and they don’t get much better than that. Oh, and let’s not forget the infamous Pink House on Plum Island, long may it stand, and at least one meal at Bob Lobster. (Best fried clams ever.) This is a great honor, and I’m so appreciative.
Spring is shaping up to be busy, but a lot of fun. Stay tuned.
Especially when you wrote it!
Just had to share the smiling faces of my friends at Ooligan Press when they unboxed copies of ELEPHANT SPEAK the other day.
I can’t speak more highly of their great team. We are exactly five weeks out from launch, and I’m so excited. As a bit of surprise to myself, I’m not all that nervous. I guess I expended all that getting ready for the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association trade show in October. Now I’m ready to send my baby out into the world with these, my loyal midwives.
Isn’t this pretty? Many, many thanks to Linda Reifschneider and Janie Chodosh for the pull quotes.
Thus spaketh my beloved five-year-old granddaughter, preparing to pitch a hissy fit because I refuses to watch a vulgar and moronic video with her before bedtime, and instead had suggested I read with her.
It was late, and I was tired. (She’s a night owl, and I’m not.) Without thinking, I bent down and got right in her face. Keeping my voice low and nonthreatening, I replied, “You just said that to the wrong person, kid, because I write books.”
Her eyes darted from side-to-side. “Oh.”
Oh, indeed, Snooks.
Beloved’s mother, my own beloved daughter, loves books, but admits that her reading time has been curtailed to those few minutes before she falls asleep at night. Who can blame her? She’s the full-time mom to a rambunctious five-year-old with the sleep schedule of a vampire.
“I need to read more in front of her,” she says, and I believe she means to try. It’s a good point. Kids emulate what they see their parents do, and if Beloved sees her mother enjoying books, well, she might, too.
Beloved’s dad, on the other hand, is no fan of books. That’s not to say he doesn’t like the written word, merely that he prefers to read from a screen rather than a printed page. To each their own, so long as they’re reading, but I feel a pang under my heart for several reasons when he denigrates physical books, particularly in Beloved’s hearing.
See, a love of books is something I’d hoped to bring to this growing relationship between me and my granddaughter. Not just a love of words, which would be nice, too, of course, but also an appreciation of physical books; to enjoy their smell, their weight, and the texture of their pages. I want for her to experience the deep contentment of settling into a favorite chair or into bed with a new or much-loved book, something “snuggleable.” I want to engage her imagination. Yes, please! I dream of talking about her favorite scenes and how she sees them in her mind’s eye, how they compare with my own. I want to share favorite passages, and even argue over the merits of a story.
I send her books, but it’s hard to convey the love from several hundred miles away. And, sure, yes, she can read and imagine and share with glowing words printed on a hard screen. And yet…
Those who don’t cuddle with books can’t, or won’t, understand. I’m a dinosaur in this age of electronics, but a proud one that maintains there’s value in the page-printed word. And I’ll likely be clutching one of those most beloved books when the asteroid hits and wipes us all away again.