I have a confession to make: I’ve always been afraid of killing someone by accident while driving. I’m sure you’ve had the experience where a person seems to appear out of nowhere as you’re backing out or making a left turn, no matter how many times you look. I’ve never been able to easily shake those moments, but instead replay them over and over. Do you do this? Is it normal?
When I heard about Darin Strauss’ new memoir, Half a Life, I ran out and got it. Strauss was weeks away from graduating high school when he kills a girl riding a bicycle. It was quickly ascertained that he was not at fault, but that doesn’t alleviate his suffering. I read the book in two sittings, completely mesmerized by the events he describes. The writing is also extremely effective, self-aware of both his inner life and the potential for a writer’s manipulation through poetic language.
I am wondering why I am so powerfully drawn to this story and to stories like it. I suspect it has something to do with the death of my baby sister and how I, at four, didn’t really understand what happened. It happened very quickly and life was forever changed in our family. While very few people experience what Strauss did, the story strikes me as universal because he is able to capture that particular terror where our lives can be irrevocably changed. Loss of control. Terror. Desire. Permanent loss. Unspeakable regret. The reason why we replay those moments again and again. For Strauss, it happens on the eve of going to college, of what must certainly have felt like the beginning of life, not the end. Which for me made it all the more poignant. All the more unbearable.
What was the last book you heard about that you had to have, and that you ran out and bought (or bought on-line)? What spoke to you that powerfully? And does the book you are working on touch that nerve?
Filed under: Authors, Books, Memoir | 46 Comments »
Somehow, I got to be fifty fucking years old and half my life has been lived in the service of helping writers bring their work to the public. There isn’t a day when I’m not that girl in an ill fitting Ann Taylor suit riding up the elevator on her first day of work at Simon and Schuster, or making my first offer on a book and being embarrassed to say the number, or opening the NYT and seeing my author get a rave review, or crying in front of my boss John Sterling when a book was trashed by same paper, or going to the National Book Critics Circle Award or a reading on the lower East Side, or asking an agent over lunch if he and his wife were gay (did not go over), the BEA when I slept with two writers, and the BEA when I picked my face so badly it bled. I remember pencil shavings covering my chest and post-its lining the walls, and playing Scrabble with Rick Moody in his boss’s office and soaking up everything I could learn about the literary life, hearing juicy gossip about people you only knew by reputation, spreading it. I remember the great Alice Mayhew furiously marching down editorial row screaming “Amateur night, amateur night,” when she believed an agent had botched an auction. And I remember thinking that was the worst thing you could ever be called: an amateur. I remember feeling betrayed, loved, admired, hurt, stung, played, and appreciated. Then there is every book I’ve ever worked on and the story of how it came into being, the back story of every decision and choice that we agonized over in the hope of getting it right.
Seventeen hour day and still on the train. Phew. Highlight of the day was a meeting with a publisher and her colleague. They came to do a dog and pony and brought lots of books, promotional materials and catalogues. They explained how they make editorial and formatting decisions, and how they market and promote, etc. They are doing an impressive job on the internet marketing; this is not true for all publishers. The books are gorgeous. It made me long for my editorial days. When people ask me if I miss it, this is what I miss: making the book. As involved as I am as an agent, I’m not talking to designers about end papers and trim size and coated stock or rough fronts. I love design. I love the package. I love fonts! I fuckin’ love them. I heart fonts! I break for French flaps. My kingdom for a satin ribbon!
Dear Betsy:
Dear Betsy
What was your first literary orgasm? Roger W. Straus, venerable co-founder of FSG, claimed it was The 
Betsy Lerner 