The paperback of LIFE SENTENCES comes out today. It would make me very happy if you bought it. Reading it would be nice, too, yet less essential. You can use it to swat flies, or prop up a bureau with a missing leg. It has an essay, “Shut Up, Memory,” in which I write about my preoccupation with memory’s power and imperfection. So, even if you have the hardcover, don’t you want to spend whatever it takes to get that essay? <g>
Usually on pub date, I run an excerpt from BIRD BY BIRD, but it doesn’t really apply this time. Even an author expects the paperback pub date to be relatively quiet. Come August and the publication of I’D KNOW YOU ANYWHERE, I’ll probably be a little giddier. I’m so laid-back this year that I almost forgot I had a signing tonight — and it’s one of only three events I’m doing for the paperback!
I hope it’s been clear in the past week of blogging that my goal was to expose myself, at least as a writer. Of the sins and mistakes I’ve explored, I know all of them first-hand.
Beth Tindall, webmistress extraordinaire, threw out an interesting topic: What have I learned from readers? Well, I’ve learned about the mistakes I’ve made and I’ve learned that most people are extremely gracious in pointing them out. I’ve learned that it’s an honor to be taken into someone’s busy life for however long it takes that person to read a book. I’ve learned not to engage with angry people because they seem to get angrier. Once, just once, I asked a woman who wrote me a very critical e-mail if she realized it was unkind and if she would explain to me why she felt compelled to send it. I got a lot more than I bargained for. I am going to print the exchange here in full.
Dear Ms. Lippman,
I am a mother and grandmother past the century mark. My life is very busy
with a business and an industrial park. I also keep our 2 grandsons (3 & 6
yrs) a couple of days a week when our daughter works as an RN. I read
constantly—always, always have a book or two or three with me. Normally, I
average 6
books a week and have managed to pass this love of reading—all things in
print—to our oldest grandson. He is currently reading 2 animal encyclopedias
and Harry Potter #4. They both enjoy being read to as well.
Having prefaced this with some background information, I wanted you to know
that in all my years of reading, there have been only 3 books that I have
attempted to read and could not finish because they were so poorly written.
There
have been considerably more than that, which I finished, because I kept
thinking it has to get better. Good bones or premise but just never gets to
“good
book” status. I have just now finished What the Dead Know. It very nearly
became book number 4 not completed.
I had not, that I can remember, read any of your other books and will not be
reading any more. While the book did appear to have an interesting story at
its core, I felt that it was very poorly put together and did not ever reach
the potential of core story. It seemed to be way too disjointed and chopped
up. While that may have been your intention, it did not seem to transport back
and forth with any unity. A decent punch line doesn’t cure what ails it.
I would not at this hapless point ever consider recommending your work. I
was prepared, right up to the last page, to give the book every chance and was
sorely disappointed.
Sincerely,
[Name redacted]
I replied:
Dear [Name redacted],
I’d like to ask you a few questions because whatever you think of my writing
skills, I am very curious about human nature. Why did you take time to write
your email? What need did it fulfill for you? Were you angry that you wasted
time reading the book? Did you feel that I would benefit, knowing that I would
no longer have you as a reader? Did you think I might become a better writer?
Did you know that your opinion is not one widely shared by the world, and feel
the need to assert your iconoclasm? Did writing the email make you feel good?
Did you hope I would feel bad?
One small note: There’s no “punch line” in the book. It is revealed that a
woman has spent the past thirty years of her life in utter misery, believing she
could not be forgiven for something she had done. However poorly written you
might think the story is, this was not intended to draw laughs.
best, Laura Lippman
Dear Ms. Lippman,
When I make a purchase of anything, I generally expect it to perform, be as
advertised, do what it says it will do, etc. That includes books. Your
product was touted as, among many glowing other things:
hypnotic
highly entertaining
uncommonly clever
and more
I found absolutely none of those things to be the case. It was chaotic,
choppy, disjointed and rambling. The base story was decent, even interesting,
but the delivery was very poorly orchestrated.
I do praise/complain to businesses/people about products/services when I
feel moved to do so. If I am inclined to either recommend the product/service
or
never use/purchase more, I will usually state the fact.
I never said I was angry or even upset. I do feel that it was a waste of my
time. You seem to be much more upset than I am, yet you invite readers to
respond. If you only want glowing reviews, then you should not make yourself
accessible.
Does it make me feel better? Not necessarily. Although, this does, now. I
believe it the height of conceit and audacity that you feel that I don’t have
the right to an opinion that you don’t care for. As you seem to think very
highly of your work, I am surprised you bothered respond. You obviously don’t
care what your readers think unless they agree with you. How many other
readers do you suppose don’t bother to tell you what you don’t want to hear?
Arrogance is not becoming.
My belief is that praise can be a good thing and when deserved, should be
given. I also feel the same way about criticism. Had I thought your book
deserved praise, I would have probably sent that as well, as it was the first of
your books for me. You apparently don’t think the same way and are only
interested in like-minded praise for your work.
You should look up “punch line” in the dictionary. It does not refer only
to comedy. I never said that your book was humorous or funny. I won’t presume
you know nothing of tragedy and you should not either.
I did happen to notice that your form of criticism was to express concern
about my motivation and did not care at all why or how I came to my conclusion.
Your reaction was to criticize me, for having the gall to voice a poor
opinion, rather than seek what I based my opinion on. I am sure you will have
continued success, after all there are millions that share your high opinion of
yourself. So, you really need not be concerned about one reader, while I stand
in the bookstores with other readers or post online reviews.
Have a nice life.
Sincerely,
Name redacted
Dear [Name redacted],
You’ve gone a long way out of your way to be insulted. I didn’t know why you
wrote; now I do. I asked because I was curious about you. You had volunteered
several details about your life, but you didn’t tell me why you decided to
write. Surely, whatever your motivations, you must have known that your words
would be hurtful? Or perhaps you didn’t know, and that’s interesting, too.
I’m not sure where you got the idea I have a high opinion of myself. I don’t.
I asked a series of questions about you, out of genuine interest. Like you, I
writer. We’re simply different that way.
And, while it’s true that a book can be viewed as a product for which one
exchanges money and then demands a certain amount of satisfaction — again,
that’s a very different perspective from mine. Not better, not worse, just
different.
You started a dialogue. I responded. I’m responding again because I hate the
idea that you think I’m conceited or that I found you audacious for writing to
me. I simply didn’t understand why you wrote and I probably should have kept
the question that open. For suggesting various scenarios, which you then
inferred were thoughts I actually had about you — I’m truly sorry.
By the way, I looked up punch line in two dictionaries, and both of them
noted that it was part of a humorous story or anecdote.
best, Laura
This happened two years ago and it still makes me sad. Not because she disliked the book, but because this is a case of two people speaking past each other. So much band-width, infinite space with which to express ourselves and here are two human beings with the same native language and we can’t make ourselves understood to one another.
I have a policy that I respond to all signed e-mails about my work. I still do, but all I say now to disgruntled readers is that I’m truly sorry that they were disappointed. This past year, my e-mail link has been increasingly wonky, and while I’ve mentioned this to webmistress extraordinaire Beth Tindall, I haven’t done anything to fix it. I remember when e-mail was fun, a novelty. Now, it’s mostly work and the occasional hate mail. And people wonder why I’m spending more time on Facebook!
What did I learn from this reader? To quote Crimes of the Heart, I think she was having a bad day. So was I. This is The Memory Project, right? Well, I will always remember that day because I was cranky. It was hot, I had been on multiple errands, I was frustrated by — oh, this feels like a detail from a Rachel Cusk novel — trying to find the right granite for our kitchen renovation. But I was truly curious, trying to figure out why anyone would write such an e-mail. As I’ve noted here, I don’t read Amazon reviews and I don’t Google myself. But this was clearly something that someone wanted me to read. Was it really about the book?
By the way, please don’t belittle her in the comments. It’s easy to pick on her grammar and her claim that she’s past the “century mark.” If you must respond, respond to the emotion, the frustration of a reader who didn’t get the experience she was expecting. Or pick on me for being small-minded enough to debate the dictionary meanings of “punch line.” Or for answering at all.
I’m happy to have found your books only recently. DC Noir led to Baltimore Noir and then I lived in Laura Lippmanland for several weeks, searching out the books in chronological order, anxious that I might not have the next in hand when needed. No arrogance detected, I have a rather high opinion of you and all your characters. A moment of sadness when a book turned out to be Tessless, but it passes.
Finding you here (thanks, Facebook)has been a blessing. A remarkable collection of friends you have assembled, and I’m accumulating a list of books that I want to read. Thanks to you all.
Katharine,
I am a HUGE fan and recently wrote you a mash note (mash e-mail?), but it was chewed up when my e-mail account had to be force-quit and I lost track. Thank you for your words of wisdom. Everybody, read TRIANGLE and TRUE CONFECTIONS as soon as you can.
Meanwhile, I hope it’s clear that to all that what really disturbed me was my own response. It wasn’t as kind as it should have been. I simply should have written: “I’d like to know more about what really bothered you about the book because I can’t tell if it’s just a consumer issue (I didn’t get the experience I thought I was paying for) or something larger? At any rate, I truly am sorry that you were disappointed.”
I respond poorly to being chided, or even instructed. I just do. If I was sincerely interested in knowing what motivated her to write, I needed to put those feelings aside.
Thank you, Laura — please feel free to send that mash note along any time you’re in the mood, because I would always be in the mood to read it. How incredibly flattering and also surprising!
I admire your recognizing that your response had a kind of subtle aggression back at her, if that is what you are saying, and I think it is. It is difficult/impossible at certain moments not to judge people.
I wrote about a recent encounter with a confused reader (and my own impulses) at a bookstore event on my esprit d’escalier writing blog:
http://staircasewriting.blogspot.com
Off to buy the paperback so’s I can read the essay.
Yanno, the response you wished you’d written, in post 14, is super classy, but my take-away here is that you are so write when you learned not to engage the angry ones.
It was standing room only tonight for LL at the Ellicott City Barnes and Noble.
There has to be a reason Laura wins awards and her books keep selling. One does have to wonder about poor Name redacted. Is there a shrink in the house?
Lisa, I agree. Having made the error of engaging, I can’t help wishing I’d done a better job. But it was a mistake borne of heat, humidity and a lot of granite with hairline cracks.
You know what Shannon’s response would be — to call up the woman and say you were so pleased she took the time and since she’d been so generous already you were coming right by to discuss it further, in fact you were actually outside the house, no worries, you’d brought your toothbrush so you could settle in for a nice long chat, because where would you be without committed and interested readers like her?
See, that would have been brilliant. But that’s always the best way, right? To respond to all criticism as if it were complimentary, like that crazy Russian on ANTM.
Laura, that was a very strange email. Surely in all those books she read over the weeks and years, there was more than 1 book she didn’t like. Did she write to all those authors?
I’ve written to authors I’ve liked but never to one I didn’t like. It seemed she had some point to prove but I can’t figure out what.
Before I read Carolyn See’s book, it had never even occurred to me to write to a writer. Writers are way too scary to approach with a note. What if I misspell? Or use bad grammar?
John Irving has written about writers and the people who read them and scared the crap out of me. Both Garp and Ruth Cole had letters from readers that went badly.
Writing a letter to politicians to tell them they are idiots, sure. But a writer? Oh, hell no! Good writers are too precious and few to actually try to discourage them. I just want the good ones to keep writing so I’ll have something good to read.
Which See book? I’m not sure I know it.
Extraordinary. The whole exchange is fascinating and remarkably unlike anything I would have expected on both sides! You have sometimes made choices, as authors do, to take your characters (particularly Tess) in directions I might have questioned. However; they were your choices, she is your character and I gladly went along for the ride with only a momentary “hitch in my get-along”. You are a writer of great range, deep resources and an unerring eye for the possibilities within the seed of an idea. Most will get it and some won’t. Don’t let that one fester, you have already gleaned from it what was there to gather.
The See book is “Making a Literary Life. Advice for Writers and Other Dreamers”. I liked “Bird by Bird” better, but it’s okay.
I think this is why most internet forums have do-not-feed-the-trolls-guidelines.
Although, I have to say, feeding the trolls can be fun. I do it all the time. I’m sorry, but some people do deserved to be mocked. If you put your opinion out there, be ready to defend it. I applaud your restraint, though.
Oh, this brings back memories. My mother used to get very up in arms about books. Her usual thing was that one book was a “rip-off” of another. For instance, Donna Tartt’s The Secret History was a rip-off of A Fatal Inversion by Ruth Rendell. Right, Mom, a bunch of people are living in a house and one of them gets killed and we’re going to find out who and why. Never mind pointing out that she read books that were rip-offs of each other from one week to the next all the time. She’d get angry at the author of the “rip-off” book like it was some friend of hers who’d let her down.
It seems like the person who wrote to you was mainly stung because– as she mentions in her reply– her motivation was questioned. She doesn’t sound like a real dummy, so I am pretty sure on some level she is aware that what she says in the first email could be said of any book almost equally (and be equally irrelevant). People can and do write this kind of thing every day on Amazon– and sometimes even in professional reviews– and I have wondered why. Something about the book bugs them but instead of expressing it directly they go in search of the kinds of things you’re supposed to say about books? Maybe the reason is as simple as, people like to express themselves and it’s more fun to write something negative than something positive.
Naomi,
I like that: “people like to express themselves.” Yes, of course. And the Internet affords more opportunities than ever for a wide variety of communication. You can set a blog or Facebook page to essentially outgo only. You can post anonymously to non-moderated lists.
I just wonder if the seething might settle down as the technology becomes less novel.
I found it interesting that the person who wrote to you gave so much background on her own life. It was as if she wanted you to know that she was no slouch, and despite being very, very busy and a mature and experienced reader, she was taking the time to write to you because you HAD to be made aware of how displeased she was.
I t seems like she was indeed having a bad day and maybe she didn’t like what you did with a particular character, maybe she’s even a frustrated writer who thinks she could have done a better job. I didn’t like the way she assumed to know what you were thinking and the way she assumed such a judgemental poition.
In any case, If I had received a letter like that it would have been impossible for me not to respond. It would just eat at me. I thought you responded reasonably considering the exchange.
I have exchanges like this one from time to time. Email has made it possible for readers to confront the author in a more informal, intimate and immediate way than mail or telephone in the past. Something about the way we can connect has created a much less respectful let alone polite atmosphere.
More often than email, I see posts like this on places like Goodreads and Amazon and blogs, and tempted as I am to respond, I have learned that it isn’t wise for me to engage. I have come to understand that something in consumery “reviews” of my novels as if they were faulty toasters is a little bit soul-sucking for me, because they feel unfair, they feel anti-intellectual in the extreme, and they tap into my insecure desire to be understood as much as appreciated.
I have come to accept that I don’t write novels that every reader is going to enjoy or even really fully comprehend. Since it was never my goal to be all things to all readers, it seems unrealistic for me to have expectations of universal appreciation. So if people write me I might offer a simple explanation if there is a question or confusion, but otherwise I just thank them for being interested in my work, even if the email was not much more than a belligerent failure to comprehend something important to me.
I found the exchange with the reader interesting, but maybe not that surprising. I do use reader reviews to help select books, both for myself and gifts to others. Partly because of this I know that no book is going to resonate with everyone, and that different individuals can respond very differently to the same work. I have read highly acclaimed works that have done nothing for me — and I tend to assume that I was missing something and move on to the next book (or possibly go back to read some reviews that might alter my viewpoint). It may be as simple as the reader read the cover of the book, developed a certain expectation that was different than the actual book and was therefore disappointed. (My wife actually has experienced this and quickly removes the dust jacket of the book to avoid reading any comments that might form an impression before she starts to read.) Although difficult, I really think you shouldn’t worry about these comments — although I am a couple books behind, I think What the Dead Know was clearly among your best books, if not the best. Rarely is there a universal reaction (positive or negative) to almost anything.
Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty, and the pig enjoys it. Which is a glib way of saying nothing, because it’s really hard not to respond when somebody clearly misunderstands that you accomplished with your terrific book, Laura. She’s entitled to her opinion. And she feels so entitled that she probably goes around informing friends when when she thinks they’ve gained weight, too. Maybe the best thing you can do is turn her bossy, self-importance into a character? I try to delete exasperating emails, but they sit in my delete box, blinking and grumbling and generally making themselves impossible to ignore. That’s probably a good thing. Otherwise, would we become self-inflated, too? Which is surely a bad thing in a writer.
I worked as a bank teller while I was in college. In exchange for taking on what they considered to be the very menial task of counting the coins from a vending machine customer (I had a machine that did the counting and I found the job to be quite peaceful) the bank trained me as a teller and was very flexible with my hours, which worked well around my school schedule. I was 19 and had never worked with the public before, but I quickly found out that people can present quite the array of personality disorders. One of my first experiences was with a customer who grew irate when I asked him for a social security number in order to purchase a bond as a gift for a new baby. He was furious over the question, even though I�m sure he knew it wasn�t my idea. It was a bank rule, or maybe even a legal requirement. I don�t remember. We got through the transaction, although he brought me to the verge of tears. I noticed afterward that whenever this customer came in the bank he scanned the teller line looking for me and always came to my station. He wasn�t always surly, although he was a jerk on several subsequent occasions. I think he just enjoyed knowing he had the power to upset me whether he chose to use it that day or not. I noticed there were other customers that all the tellers fought to wait on. These were the people who consistently brightened our days by coming in with a joke or at least a smile. It really all goes back to what my mom told me when she was getting ready to send me off to kindergarten. Watch out because there are bullies out there. There are children who take pleasure in picking on those they perceive as weaker. They will usually back off if you confront them, because they are cowards, but it�s best when possible to just ignore them. If they can�t get a rise out of you it takes all the fun out of it for them. It�s the same with adults. There are those people who derive pleasure out of giving pleasure to others. If they can make your day better it gives them a lift. And then there are the trolls who get their kicks out of causing trouble. I�ve wondered sometimes if trolls are less happy than sunshine people? Maybe they are, or maybe they just like to be mean. I think some people are just jerks. The anonymity of the internet only makes it easier to be hateful and not accountable. It makes me sad, too. I am very disappointed every time I see hatefulness in newspaper comments or on Facebook. I like to think that most people are inherently good but mom was right�look out for the bullies.
Dear Laura:
You wrote: It would make me very happy if you bought it. Reading it would be nice, too, yet less essential.
This really spoke to me because a year ago, someone blogged about you and your writing so I rushed out and bought several of your books-Charm City, Baltimore Blues, Sugar House, etc–but never read them. I’ve felt guilty all this time, but now that I see you don’t mind, I’m quite relieved. Thank you for freeing me; and yes, I will purchase Life Sentences. Someday I intend to read all of them. Maybe when my husband retires and we can no longer afford to buy books.
At least that’s my plan.
As for your ‘fan’ who felt the need to let you know her heart…well, I liked the way you responded. I’m fascinated and appalled by the anger and frustration that permeates our country. I read it all the time in the comments section of many different sites. It’s downright scary, and I find myself wondering why those people feel the need to let everyone ‘see’ their anger, vulgarity, frustration and hatefulness.
Thanks for posting your series of exchanges. I think we all can learn from it. But as a soccer mom told her son when he got hurt while playing: Just rub it off, sweetie! Rub it off and get right back out there.
I wish you the best and I’m truly looking forward to settling down with my collection of Lippman books some day, and reading one right after another.~jess
Jess,
I’ve had some wonderful books in my house for YEARS waiting for me.
And yes, Kaye, you’ve hit on something, as have several others. Interactions often center on power. I had an editor once who was pretty terrifying, but once when talking about my beat, she said something insightful: “The only people who have power over me are airline ticket clerks and my hairdresser.” She urged me to look for stories about power. Inspired, I wrote a piece about how many pieces of paper are filed, required, etc. to go through a typical request for welfare benefits and it was enlightening.
What I think is wonderful is that you saw through that guy, you had his number. On some level, you defanged him, even if he didn’t know it.
I’ve had conversations like this. i realized not too long ag that once I hear “Have a nice life” I really need to stop reading and/or communicating with the person. I find the high-handed tone of that sentence to be so irritating, so superior, so snotty that it brings down this clanging iron gate. i despise it. It is intended to stop all discussion and just sets me off.
I know you. i’ve known you for a long time and what you AREN’T is arrogant or conceited. We’ve had long heartfelt conversations, and while they are private and I don’t “use” them to prove anything, Laura, i fucking KNOW YOU as my friend and am offended by this person on your behalf. Where the hell does someone get off calling you names? But yeah, it’s because you wrote back and defending yourself and your work. You weren’t supposed to. You were supposed to see her wisdom and tell her she was right and thank her for her time on your behalf.
That anyone reads a crime novel for a “punch line” well, there are a couple authors that do that. Feh. you don’t offer that.
What is it that drives someone a) to read to the end if they’re not enjoying the book and/or b) to tell you about it as if there is something you can do about it?
You know how I feel about the book. And you. And it says a lot about you that this can still hurt. In the years that I’ve known authors, it stuns me that, as folks here have said, somehow readers believe that having read your book, they have certain rights and privileges to call you, write you to tell you stuff. And more – invade your privacy, make you their best friend, stalk you (not you personally but I know folks…).
This makes me very very sad. You were attacked, tried to communicate and are stuck with this icky icky thing that you can’t make go away. so, so sad.
Dear Name Redacted,
I loved WTDK so much that after I (bought and) read the hardcover, I listened to the audio version (library). Not every book is meant for every reader, but for the ones who find that special book, there is just joy. Sorry you didn’t like WTDK, but take another look at all the books LL has written and see if another one is a better fit for you.
Sincerely,
A LL Fan
After I started reading One Drop by Bliss Broyard, I was so impressed I dashed off an email to let her know, something I might not have done pre-email. To my shock and surprise, she responded and thanked me. I felt special. If I hadn’t liked her writing, I would not have sent her an email telling her unless there was some factual error I felt compelled to bring to her attention and even that would have been mighty arrogant of me.
Laura, a great conversation about adverse criticism. My two cents: I would have written the woman a note saying I was sorry she found my book unreadable and would she be forgiving and please give me a second chance at one of my other books. Then I would use the character analysis within the email, put her in a book and do away with her. It’s great therapy to scratch someone in my books who has ticked me off.
By the way, I’m a fan.
June, there is a shrink in the house, chiming in belatedly. Laura, I don’t think the seething will settle down. I’ve been treating clients online for ten years, and when I started, it was already well established that there’s a “disinhibition factor” in Internet communication. Just about every e-list and chat group I’ve ever been in has had the occasional flame war–including lists of online mental health professionals. It’s often said that it’s due to anonymity, but that’s not really it. I suspect it’s more a perception of being untouchable, or maybe unobserved (a paradox right there), like a kid getting into the cookie jar. I used to think it had something to do with the text medium–until the cellphonistas started showing even more disinhibition roaming the streets and crowding the buses, phones to their ears and the intimate details of their lives ringing in everybody else’s ears.
Thanks for posting the exchange with a dissatisfied reader. There’s a lot of intelligent angst swirling about out there, and when someone takes the time to shoot a bolt at you, it does make you wonder. I’ve worked a lot of years as a psychologist, and quite often the motivation for shooting that bolt comes from deep dissatisfaction with other life areas, and then you cross paths and you become a trigger point and target for pent-up energy that did not originate with you. She sounds like an intelligent woman. She didn’t like the book, but the reason all that energy was directed toward letting you know about her dissatisfaction lies somewhere else. The exchange still is frustrating because if there was something to be learned, it never emerged past one reader’s dislike of a book.
By the way, I bought, read, and liked the book.
Margaret
Laura,
I agree with Margaret’s conclusion (comment 23). Sometimes when everything falls apart in life you seek refuge in a book. If that book isn’t perfect (by your own definition) it’s the final straw and that sets loose a torrent of pent-up whatever. Sometimes even if it is perfect, it’s not enough.
Sounds to me like this may be what happened. Something or someone made this woman feel inferior and she lashed out at convenient you in response. You were a safe target because of the buffer provided by technology. Her words sound as if she was seeking affirmation of her intelligence and validation of her life experiences. I think that on another day, she wouldn’t have been so motivated.
Bottom line: I don’t think it was really about you. I love your books and share your feelings. Writers are fragile. We want everyone to like us and understand and love our work. It’s only human to respond when we’re hurt. Onward!
Unfortunately, it’s much easier to deliver such criticism in the “faceless” online world. If she were in your presence, she probably would’ve considered her words more carefully.
You’re right to simply say, “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the book,” and leave it at that. Don’t engage. Don’t argue or even ask why. (Too easy for a person with her attitude to misinterpret your interest in her motives as a passive-aggressive response–to play Devil’s advocate here.) Although we enjoy faster communication through modern technology, that doesn’t necessarily make it better communication.
Having said that, let’s all remember to stop and count to 100 before sending any emails or posting responses in the heat of the moment.
I took a graduate class titled �Power and Politics� and the whole course was an examination of how people manipulate situations and each other to gain position in the workplace. It was fascinating! Along the lines of your editor�s comment, one of my favorite pieces of advice I read somewhere (probably in an Oprah magazine) was that I don�t have any control over anyone else�s actions, I only have control over my response to them. Remembering that has helped me a number of times when I�m dealing with someone behaving badly. I also believe that like it or not we all project our own values on others when we evaluate their actions. You and I and several other commentors wonder how this person could write such a hateful email that serves no constructive purpose as far as any of us can tell. We�re all assuming she cares about other people�s feelings, like we all do. Maybe she doesn�t care! Sometimes the most obvious answer is the right one�she wrote the email because she�s a crank.
Oh, and the guy at the bank did figure out I had his number in the end! The last interaction that sticks in my mind was after I had worked there for a couple of years and had the opportunity to wait on quite a few not so nice people. He came in before the holidays wanting to play his little game. All huffy he asked me if it might be remotely possible to get crisp new bills to distribute as gifts. I said �Of course!� and whipped out a new pack of 50�s for him. I then asked if he would like gift envelopes to put them in? In the most sarcastic tone he could muster he said �I assume there�s a charge for that?� I fixed him with a brief stare�something I couldn�t have done when I first started working there�and then smiled and replied �why no, they�re free!� and passed him two of the envelopes with his cash. Then I just looked him in the eye until he had to turn and walk away. I�m glad I met him. He helped me grow up a little.
i don’t finish quite a lot of books, actually.
but not your astonishing asture, beautifully written books about real girls. i find them moving, and, again, real, and i would be a very grateful woman to have more of them over time.
the level of detail, the subtlety of revealed emotion, the truth of relationships makes these books very very special.
so thank you.
lily
Oh, I stop reading books all the time, too. Once, I decided that a book had so infuriated me that I stopped on the next-to-last page.
Frankly, I think the critical reader loved What the Dead Know, and she didn’t like that she did(!). She leaves wiggle-room on whether she’s read other LL books, in addition to What the Dead Know – which she confesses she read to the end.
I remember getting ready to be “mad” (in the best sense!) somewhere toward the middle of What the Dead Know, when a (seemingly) enormously important piece of information comes to light. I may even have exclaimed “No fair!” at the time – but (of course) it ultimately did NOT derail the plot or the book; it was simply an important revelation; “important” about the characters, but not the plot – if that makes sense. It at first LOOKED like the set-up of a plot punchline that I wouldn’t have liked, but that “punchline” (which would have been unpleasant, in my opinion) never came.
Possibly this is what the critical reader was getting at; possibly also this is why LL kept the exchange. Leaving aside the critical reader’s invective, it strikes me that she did come upon (or stumble over?) a truth in that book. The author (it seemed to me, when I read the tale) purposely raised an issue and then disposed of it. Speaking of punch lines, I recall Bill Cosby expounding on the idea of telling a funny story and having it climax with something that HASN’T already been laughed at, a hundred times before.
The fact that the critical reader finsihed the book despite “very nearly” not (and despite all the other things in her life; other books, grand children, and so on) is also a (probably unintentional?) bit of praise. In short, I think her complaint is that she was actively looking for the Gallagher punchline, and she got a Cosby one.
Our first spam in the comments. (Now deleted.) TMP goes mainstream!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35713764/
This story is heartbreaking – all the more so given that I felt I’d already met girls like these, in To the Power of Three
Haunting lead:
“As the high-speed Acela train came thundering down the rails, a teenage girl screamed at her friends to get off the tracks.But Gina Gentile and Vanessa Dorwart did not move. They hugged as the train bore down on them at speeds up to 110 mph, carrying out a suicide pact that the witness herself had backed out of only moments before.”
As you read on, the individual traits of the girls seem hauntingly familiar.