Miami Book Fair 2011

2011 Book Fair poster illustrated by Ye Hongxing

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Florida Book Review again blogged from Miami Book Fair International. We have lots of postings up, and more coming in. If you want even more of the Book Fair spirit, read last year's live-blog, archived here. If you are far from Miami but follow the Fair with us, you can email us (see our Contact Us info) with questions or comments.

Sunday, Nov. 20, 2011, 3:50 PM

Susan Orlean lived up to her high billing with a charming discussion of Rin Tin Tin: The Life and the Legend (Chapman, 2:30 Sunday). Then again, she had an easy audience in me. When my family was transplanted from New York City to Inspiration, Arizona, in the late 50s, I had no trouble leaving my friends because I was sure we'd be living in Fort Apache.

She naturally began with the question: Why write a book on Rin Tin Tin? (Besides the fact that Rinty is in all respects superior to Lassie.) Orlean was a fan as a child and curious about her grandfather's not-to-be-touched figurine of Rin Tin Tin. Must be more to the dog than meets the eye from the TV screen.... Her interest lay dormant for decades until a random mention of Rinty sent her to Google, and then she was hooked on the story.

Rin Tin Tin was found as a puppy on a WWI battlefield and became one of the biggest box office draws of the 20s and popular around the world. The original made the transition from silents to talkies/barkies. Rin Tin Tin juniors continued in vaudeville, radio, and TV, not to mention serving as spokesdog for the Army Canine Corps in WWII. Hitler wanted control over the German Shepherd breed. Anne Frank wrote of her longing to see a Rin Tin Tin film.

The book is about the dog/character's career, the parallel history of entertainment in America, the evolution of our relationship with pets, and Orlean's own interest in dogs. She read a passage about searching for the area where the puppy was found, and one about transporting a German Shepherd puppy in carry-on luggage to its new family. Both passages were funny, self-deprecating, and touching.

Go, Rinty!

—Bob Morison

Sunday, Nov. 20, 2011, 3:45 PM

I attended the Dyan Cannon book reading. For those who don't know who she is, Cannon is an actress, director, producer, but most famously known for her marriage to Cary Grant. And for those who don't know who he is, Grant was an iconic actor of old Hollywood. A legend indeed, if you ask me. He's one of my all time favorites. (Watch him in Notorious, and get back to me with your thoughts.)

Cannon discussed her new memoir, Dear Cary. She read her "Author's Note" to the audience and then spoke about major topics in the book. Among them she described her decision to wait to write the book until now, despite Grant passing away in 1986 when she was first approached to write about him. She described needing to "heal" before being able to "implicate everyone" who was a part of her life and thus a part of her book.

Cannon said thateveryone can connect with with her book, since everyone has experienced a failed relationship. "We've all been there. We've all had broken hearts. And we've all wondered: How do I repair this? What is love? How do you get it? Keep it? How do you get it back? Make it stay?" She said those are all questions she answers in her book.

She describes the three different types of love. One: the "I-If" love (I'll love you if...), two: the "Because" love (I love you because...), and three: the "In Spite Of" love (the I love you in spite of...). Dyan realized that if she wanted to receive the correct type of love (number three, for those of you who haven't figured it out), she needed to practice that type of love first. She went on to say that she does not "dish or bash" Cary Grant in her book. "Don't go there," she warned with a smile. She added that the book was about healing, and hurting in the process because "it hurts to hurt." Cary Grant only had one child, Jennifer, and it was Cannon he trusted enough to do so with. So she had to repay that trust back to him via the process of writing the book.

Before going onto the question and answer session, Cannon said he was the love of her life. He was the handsomest man she'd ever seen. She wanted to make Cary happy [in the marriage] and so she "went against her gut, [which meant] death for the marriage." But that now, she is "whole, independent, and fixed." She added proudly, "My book is a journey of the heart."

Questions asked, and responses given by Cannon:

Q: Would you consider doing rebounds [jumping] on a trampoline for a dvd?
A: Oh, thanks. No. (This was an awkward first question. There was an underlying perverted factor involved and Cannon sidestepped it with a quick response and a smile.)

Q: How did you influence Cary?
A: I got him to share candy with me from his candy drawer. But ultimately, he was a greater influence on me. "I went out to find a daddy, which I figured out later," she said sincerely.

Q: What do you think about Hollywood now versus before, as someone whose been a part of both?
A: Mystery used to surround the great actors before, Cary, Spencer Tracy, Gary Cooper. Now, reality tv has changed everything.

Q: Why didn't Cary get an Oscar?
A: For a long time, he rallied against them. He didn't have an agent, which was standard, he used his lawyer instead. But remember, he did receive a commemorative Oscar much later in his career.

Q: How do you feel about organized religion?
A: Everyone has their highest sense of pride. I believe the greatest we can do is love each other. (Applause from the audience.) I'm not going to comment on organized religion. I learned to love unlimited love. Everyone can practice religion in whatever way they want, and I stick to my beliefs.

Q: Cary carried something of himself in each role. (Not really a question, mister!)
A: Cary said he'd never do a costume movie again after his first and only because they made him wear a uniform. He didn't feel like himself. Yes, there was always some of himself in every role.

Q: Would you consider talking about your relationships after Cary?
A: "I wouldn't think of it." (Lots of laughter and applause at Cannon's quick response.)

Q: Would you consider Cary your grand passion?
A: (Pause.) What did he say? (It's repeated to her by several audience members.) Since Cary... uh, He's been the only love of my life. We had a child. We both wanted to make the marriage work... What happened to him as a kid, he couldn't make peace with it. (She explained that she discusses this in detail in her book, and doesn't want to spoil it for us.) Yes, Cary was the grand passion of my life.

Q: If you could live one moment again, what would it be?
A: (Cannon paused a moment.) "To hug my mom," she said, emotionally.

Q: What do you think about the new Natalie Wood investigation?
A: I wasn't on the boat. [She recounted knowing Natalie very well and being saddened at her passing.]

Q: This is the question everyone wants to know. (Pause.) What nutrition and exercise do you do? (Lots of laughter from the audience.)
A: I work out three times a week. I eat lots of fruit. I used to have a big weight problem which I describe in the book. But aside from all that, I pray like crazy.

Dyan Cannon ended the session by saying, "Thank you! I feel like we really connected today." And I must say, at times she was so personal, that I might just have to agree with her.

—Michelle Frau

Dyan Cannon speaks to her audience in the Performance Pavilion. Photo, Michelle Frau.

Sunday, Nov. 20, 2011, 3:43 PM

I just looked at my schedule and saw that the Rober Olen Bulter panel I thought started at 4:00 actually starts at 4:30. My gas tank is running on fumes and I've shopped all the tents I can. At Dungeon Books I managed to snag three children's books for $2 each that will get stashed until Christmas. Books make great stocking stuffers. I decide to call the 2011 Miami Book Fair a success and head for the exits. I stop by the Murder on the Beach tent one more time, hoping they've put out more inventory. They haven't, but in the interest of clearing out stock they'd prefer not take back to Delray, they've slashed prices on their used hardcovers to $1 each, or 12 for $10. Unfortunately there isn't anything catching my eye. I've hit their tables pretty hard over the last two days, snagging books I thought wouldn't still be around by the time the last ditch clearance efforts were made.

—Ed Irvin

Foreground: people line up to have books signed in the Building One breezeway. Background: Entrance to Children's Alley. Photo, David Kasprzyk.

Sunday, Nov. 20, 1:45 PM

My motto is usually, "Eat no arepa before its time." I like them a bit browned with the cheese melted and infused, hot enough that you have to wait a minute (though you usually don't) to take that first bite. This year, however, urgency prevailed. The stand was popular, the next wave of arepas not quite to my degree of doneness, and my son hungry. Not that I'm complaining. An arepa at the Book Fair is a much-anticipated annual treat in bold defiance of my cholesterol coach.

—Bob Morison

Sunday, Nov. 20, 1:45 PM

"The nice thing about being a fiction writer is that, if you are unhappy with your reality you can create a new one." Les Standiford.

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 1:40 PM

Again, how difficult is it to silence a cell phone?

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 1:34 PM

It is absolutely FREEZING in the Last Train to Paradise panel.

—Ed irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 1:25 PM

Introduction of Beth Ann Fennelly by Denise Duhamel. She tells everyone that we're "in for a treat," and says that, "Fennelly [is my] sister poet."
Fennelly walks to the podium and says that she had, "sold blood to buy Denise's book" when she first came across Duhamel's poetry. Fennelly said being at the Book Fair was a treat because it was she and her husband's first time away from their three children, including a ten-month old. She read three poems, "First Warm Day in a College Town," (about having a spring fever for the cute young guys in her small college town), "Souvenir," and "Because People Ask What My Daughter Will Think When She's Sixteen."

For poet Michael Hettich's introduction, Duhamel called him a "Miami treasure," and even quoted herself in third person, as she read her review of his latest poetry book, The Animals Beyond Us. Michael explained that he took a different approach to writing this book. Instead of his normal process of writing a poem and then revising it immediately, he choose to write a hundred and fifty poems one after the other, and then sat down to revise them at that point. Mr. Hettich read "The Ghost," "The Honeybees," "The Lake," "The Bullfrogs," (my favorite poem read during the whole reading, this was a sweet love poem about he and his wife going to swim out in the Everglades, after moving down from Vermont), "Loving a Good Woman," "This Burning," and "The Measured Breathing," (from an upcoming brand new chapbook).

Duhamel spoke about poet Sandra Beasley's many accolades and her popular blog, "Chicks Dig Poetry Blog." Sandra read "Another Failed Poem About the Greeks," "The Sword Swallower's Valentine," "Oh, Sirus Speaks," "Inventory," and "After Eric Sati."

Of Pablo Medina, Duhamel said he was born in Havana, had translated work of Garcia Lorca, and was president of the AWP for several years. First thing Medina said was that everyone had "terrific poems." Then he went on to read, "My Mother Dreams of Me," "Dialogue with the Mirror," "At the Blue Note," "The Fire Eaters of Mexico City," "The Highway of Blazing Cars," "The Man Who Rode on Water," "Food of the Gods." (Medina said the last title came from an H.G. Wells book, a book that was his favorite at fifteen years old. Then he said that his might be a sci-fi poem.)

During the question and answer session, Duhamel asked the audience if anyone had anything to ask the poets. The room was quiet; no one had anything to say. I felt bad. I couldn't let this opportunity to go. What would the poets think of this subdued Miami crowd just letting them go without questions? So, I asked them all who their favorite poets are, contemporary or not, and if anyone could recite lines of favorite poetry from memory.

Immediately, Hettich responded by saying that he could, and he started to recite beautiful but somewhat archaic (in language) lines. I felt a little lost not knowing what poem it was, when all of a sudden an audience member started to recite along with him, and then so did Fennelly herself. What a lovely surprise! Hettich and the audience member let Fennelly recite the rest of the lines, and then he said that it was written by William Wordsworth. I think, although not completely sure, that it was Intimations of Immortality. Medina recited in Spanish from a 14th Century poem, title—again—unfortunately missed by me. Beasly recited a short poem by Emily Dickinson.

Hettich then turned the tables on me and asked if I'd memorized any poetry. To which I replied that I've memorized poetry from time to time but it comes and goes as one piece of literature comes in and replaces another. Medina said that he has had the same thing happen to him. Then Fennely recounted a trip she'd taken to Poland, where someone told her that it was customary in their culture for everyone, not just those in academia, to memorize one hundred poems. She took that idea and has tried to memorize a hundred poems herself. And at the end, Beasley said that I'd prompted them all to have a "bonus round" of poetry reading.

I'd noticed that during the reading the men read directly from their books, while the women recited from their memories and even closed their eyes to get into the flow of reading. It was an impressive reading with the wonderful personal interaction with the poets during the question round.

—Michelle Frau

Sunday, Nov. 20, 12:50 PM

Even the authors themselves sometimes wonder how they got grouped on Book Fair panels. Rosalind Brackenbury figured it out in a trice: "All three of our novels feature famous dead people."

Hers, Becoming George Sand, has a contemporary woman studying the French novelist, retracing her travels, and invoking Sand as a guide to "keeping all she wants"—husband and lover, familiarity and excitement. Brackenbury read a scene set in a railway station in Majorca, where Sand once wintered with Chopin. Wife and husband are on the verge of talking about the individual desires beneath the surface of their marriage. There's tension in what's said and unsaid, in the variety of smiles that long-familiar people have for one another, and in the protagonist's quandary: "He loves the way things are, and that's a lovable attribute."

N.M. Kelby's White Truffles in Winter is the story of Auguste Escoffier, first among French chefs. He invented cherries jubilee for Queen Victoria, peach Melba to honor the singer Nellie Melba, and ordering a la carte. As César Ritz (yes, the hotelier) suggested, he became the ambassor for French food, writing definitive cookbooks and taking French cooking to the world. The novel is about Escoffier's unusual career—he lived mainly in London and spent decades away from his wife but close to Sarah Bernhardt—and about the sensuality of food and cooking. A bit Zen: "Food demands complete submission." "The way to prevent forgetting is to cook." She read a passage describing an intimate cooking lesson in lieu of a honeymoon.

Ann Napolitano described A Good Hard Look as a novel long in progress and not coming together until she inserted Flannery O'Connor as a character. But that necessitated a lot more work: "If it featured O'Connor, it couldn't be a crappy book." She read a passage in which a newlywed gentleman visits O'Connor's farm to collect the wedding gift he doesn't want and O'Connor doesn't want to bestow—a peacock. Turns out that O'Connor is manipulating her local world in Napolitano's book just as in her own novels.

It was a great session (7106 at 11:00 Sunday), the kind of gem you can always find at the Book Fair if you skip Chapman and read the Fairgoer's Guide with some imagination. Unfortunately, attendance was low. If the Fair is looking to drop any venues, make it those in Building 7, which gets no drop-in traffic. Or else use those rooms for local authors who can definitely draw a crowd to exit the grounds and cross the street.

—Bob Morison

Sunday, Nov. 20, 12:24 PM

Denise Duhamel and Beth Ann Fennelly come into the poetry reading room, Centre Gallery, in a storm of friendly cheer. Introducing themselves to the room host/moderator and deciding which way is best to set up the introduction process for each poet reading.

—Michelle Frau

"Snow" (rapidly slush in Miami) fight for kids, sponsored by Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Photo, David Kasprzyk.

Sunday, Nov. 20, 2011, 12:11 PM

Killing time following the James Grippando, Paul Levine and Edna Buchanan mystery panel, I visit the Murder on the Beach tent, where I managed to snag two autographed John Sanford ARCs on Saturday for a friend who is a fan. I'm looking to add to my personal ARC collection when a salesperson tugs on my arm. She remembered me from Saturday, that I was looking for Michael Koryta books. She points me to an ARC of Koryta's So Cold the River, still with the publicity letter folded inside the cover, as well as a feedback card addressed to the publicist. Jackpot!

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 12:06 PM

When I got to the Book Fair today, I was not expecting that by noon I would know more than I ever wanted to about weird or gross sea creatures—but was I in for a surprise. While Ellen Prager discussed the underwater wonders featured in her book, Sex, Drugs and Sea Slime, I squirmed in my seat at descriptions of hagfish, which produce so much slime they have to squeegee it off of themselves with their tails, or sea cucumber, which regurgitates its internal organs in order to distract its foes. I found her description of cone snails, whose venom is being researched in the creation of new painkillers, much less unpleasant and more interesting. Also interesting was Juliet Eilpern's tale of how she traveled the world to learn the intricacies of sharks for her book, Demon Fish. Most of the audience, I think, attended to hear Will Potter's discussion of ecoterrorism in Green is the New Red, which felt very misplaced, being in essence a book about land people next to two books about sea creatures. But the three authors were great at tying the works together, with the influence that the natural world has on human beings acting as a common thread.

—James Barrett-Morison

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:52 AM

Seriously? How difficult is it to silence a cell phone? They only remind you three times before each panel begins.

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:40 AM

People are STILL entering the room.

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:27 AM

All the people entering late are really annoying. The size of the audience has more than doubled since the panel began. I think I had the same complaint last year. I wish they would forbid entry for those more than five minutes late, although with autograph lines being what they are that isn't a realistic idea.

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:18 AM

Levine said that over the course of the 14 years between Lassiter books he received numerous emails from fans asking when he was going to bring the character back. To this he jokingly replied, "If all the people who sent me emails had been buying the books in the first place I would've never stopped writing them."

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:16 AM

Levine, on the flawed nature of his protagonist, Jake Lassiter: "There are no 100% heroes."

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:15 AM

Paul Levine, who followed Grippando, on how he finds his hook: "Jake Lassiter sleeps with a woman he shouldn't and all hell breaks loose."

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 11:07 AM

James Grippando: "As a thriller writer you play this 'what if?' game when trying to find a hook."

—Ed Irvin

Sunday, Nov. 20, 10:50 AM

Oboy. Just what I needed. Another great writer that I knew zilch about, and now I've got to collect and read a bunch of his books in my alleged spare time. Haven't even read The English Patient, but I look forward to doing so. Michael Ondaatje's reading from his new novel, The Cat's Table, was mesmerizing. Partly his voice. Partly the action—two boys in route from Colombo to London tied Odysseus-style to the deck of the ship to experience a storm at sea. Largely, of course, the prose. He read with Russell Banks and William Kennedy at 10:00 on Sunday in Chapman. If you weren't there, catch the replay on C-SPAN.

—Bob Morison

Sunday, Nov. 20, 10:42 AM

Thanks to Deborah Sharp I managed to find free parking today instead of having to pay $20 like I did on Saturday. That freed up $20 for book shopping, which is a fortune at the fair, if you wait long enough.

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 8:45 PM

Tonight when I exited the Book Fair with my boyfriend, Matt, we walked out through the 4th Street exit onto Biscayne Blvd, and listened to the world music playing at Bayside across from Miami-Dade College. As we re-entered the fair on 2nd Street, we could hear different music, so discordant we were certain it had to be The Rock Bottom Remainders. Then, at exactly 6:00 PM, church bells began tolling, playing 'Kumbaya'. All of the music was swishing around together in my ears. The sky was lapis colored. The sun had just set. Venus was visible even with the city lights, and our heads were filled with a mix more eclectic than anything I can recall hearing before. I realized that it was six o'clock, and the street fair was over. It didn't look like anyone wanted to go home.

I know I didn't.

—Jan Becker

Saturday, Nov. 19, 8:01 PM

Attending the Chuck Palahniuk reading opened urging the audience, "On your mark, get set, blow your brains out." Any writer who celebrates characters' lack of impulse control immediately grabs my attention. Before he began reading, Palahniuk tossed inflatable brains into the crowd and urged the audience, "Now, blow your brains out." He made the joke into a game where the first to inflate a giant brain won a book. Once the game was complete, he hurled candy bars into the crowd promising that later, there would be, "... a whole lot of other shit to blow up." A promise he kept with inflatable hearts and skeletons later in the evening.

Palahniuk then launched into reading his short story, "Romance." Even after the shenanigans, the crowd quickly settled down for the reading. His story was captivating, with the narrator making assertions such as, "self-control and self-discipline [are] out of my league." The narrator's love interest, Brittney, a woman who's introduced in a bar car, hooks the narrator by telling him that she's planning to "leave the sobriety behind for a few days." I appreciate writing that involves severely damaged human beings, and Palahniuk has mastered this skill in his creation of characters.

After the first story, Palahniuk decided to test the patience of the Book Fair by reading a second story, "Guts." The energy was overwhelming and physically affected audience members. Two people fainted and some walked out due to the graphic content. Palahniuk managed to keep on trucking and remained surprisingly stable throughout his reading. His writing has a level of depravity that I find strangely comforting.

The comment that impacted me the most as a writer was when Palahniuk shared his belief that "Something has to be destroyed when you write a story." Well done Chuck, well done.

—Kacee Belcher

Editor's note: One fainter or two? You can learn more from J.J. Colagrande's up-close coverage (he ran to the fainting zone) in the New Times Cultist blog.

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 7:45 PM

It was funny watching those in the audience who obviously didn't know Palahniuk's work. Many got up and left as he read, others stared in horror. The facial expressions I saw as I scanned the crowd were priceless.

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 7:43 PM

After the audience member fainted, for which Palahniuk paused his reading, the author said he's heard of readings of The Cider House Rules at which members of the audience fainted during the reading of the kitchen abortion scene. Until tonight he always believed those stories were bullshit.

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 7:41 PM

An audience member fainted from Palahniuk's reading of his shocking and grotesque short story, "Guts."

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 7:23 PM

Saying that he'd heard hundreds of subscribers cancelled their subscriptions to The New Yorker when published Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," in 1954, Palahniuk said he hoped to create a story that would be just as controversial today when he wrote, "Guts."

—Ed Irvin

(Editor's Note: It was 1948.)

Palahniuk reading and tossing candy bars to the audience. (Photos, Ed Irvin)

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011 7:15 PM

Chuck Palahniuk being encouraged by ravenous fans to read his short story "Guts," looks to the back of the auditorium, as he heads towards a comfy chair, and says, "Don't let that baby hear this story." Some of the audience members turn around to see who he's referring to, and of course, it's me, standing up, holding my little baby in my arms so she doesn't cry. Pretty awesome to be recognized--albeit for humor--by the author.

—Michelle Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 6:51 PM

Palahniuk tossed autographed inflatable brains to members of the audience—I got one—and offered a prize to the first two people who "blew their brains out." He then began tossing candy bars to the crowd, saying that he got the idea from a nun at a private school who would toss erasers at daydreaming students. the candy bars were his erasers, he warned the cult-like crowd.

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 6:41 PM

Chuck Palahniuk, recalling a signing he once did at a Barnes and Noble in Chicago at which he was asked if he masturbates to pictures of Brad Pitt (Palahniuk wrote Fight Club), said, "Maya Angelou never has to answer these questions."

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 6:21 PM

I am standing in a line that literally wraps around the entire picnic area of this building, waiting to get into Chuck Palahniuk's reading. I am late. I am pretty sure I will not get a good seat. But I have a reason for not getting in line an hour earlier. It is a very good reason, good enough that at this moment I almost don't care if I get to see Palahniuk at all.

I had gotten lost looking for the room in which Jim Ray Daniels read a story from his latest collection, Trigger Man. Jim was my adviser when I was an undergraduate at Carnegie Mellon University, and a man I admire greatly. I was surprised how small his audience was, but I sat riveted through his story. Maybe I was a little biased, but it was great writing. Besides, I couldn't miss this moment; for all my time at CMU, I had never seen Jim read any of his own work. After the reading, I hung around to chat, and couldn't tear myself away. He was telling me how he was good friends with Li-Young Lee, who had attended University of Pittsburgh, and who had actually stayed at Jim's house during a visit to Pittsburgh. I was impressed. And late. But how could I leave a conversation in which one of my favorite professors was discussing his friendship with one of my favorite poets?

After Jim went off in search of dinner, I stood in line for 25 minutes to get a glimpse and a signature from the first famous Asian-American poet, Li-Young Lee. I missed the beginning of his reading, and they wouldn't let me in once it started, so I was determined to at least meet the man like a proper fangirl, three of his books clutched to my chest. And then who should be walking with him but my current poetry adviser, Campbell McGrath! Could meeting a poet be any more hyped?

So I stood in line, checking the time nervously and wondering if they would also close the doors on Palahniuk's reading. And then I was in front of him. I was close enough to see how well-made his black suit was. I could see the thickness of his black-frame glasses. I set my books on the table and timidly pushed them forward. Maybe he wouldn't take them. Maybe he would look at me and roll his eyes, tired of another person just out to get his signature so that they could brag about having met a famous person. Maybe he would tell me that because I had missed the reading, what kind of person was I to ask for his autograph? I couldn't say anything. I just kept staring. Here was a man who inspired me in my own senior project of Korean-inspired poetry, who made me believe that being Asian didn't have to hinder me in Poetryland. And I couldn't say anything.

Campbell saved me, coming up and touching Mr. Lee's arm and leaning forward to say, "Marci is one of my students. She's a HUGE fan." I saw Mr. Lee's eyes flick back to me, and he looked at me harder, like I wasn't just another fangirl. "Would you like me to make these books out to you, then?" The world got really quiet, and his question roared in my ears. "Yes, please." I said quite breathlessly. And then I couldn't stop. I told him that his book, Rose, was the first full book of poetry I had read because he was a great Asian-American poet. I told him that I knew his friend Jim Daniels, and that it was my greatest pleasure to actually just meet him. He calmly handed back my books, the ink from his name still drying into the pages. He extended his right hand very solemnly. "Marci," he said, "it is a great pleasure to have met you." Then he smiled, and it seemed like I saw the brightest light behind his eyes.

—Marci Calabretta

Three poets, l. to r. Gerald Stern, Li-Young Lee, Robert Pinsky. Photo, David Kasprzyk.

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 6:15 PM

While getting my Gerald Stern book (American Sonnets) signed by the poet, I mentioned that I thought he was quite funny. To which, Mr. Pinsky, who sat next to him, quickly jumped in and said, "I write all his material." And after getting Gulf Music signed by Mr. Pinsky, my boyfriend, baby, and I, went to Mr. Lee, terribly nervous though we were, and asked him to sign two books. The first was part of our personal collection, The City in Which I Love You, and includes one of the poems that my boyfriend and I bonded over years ago, titled "This Room and Everything in It." When we told Mr. Lee, he signed the very page that poem sat on. Then he autographed his newest book on the title page by quoting the final line of the "Undressing" poem: "David and Michelle, If love doesn't prevail, who wants to live in this world."

—Michelle Frau

Li-Young Lee, Robert Pinsky. Photos, David Kasprzyk

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 6:10 PM

I braved the crowd in Chapman for the 4:30 panel on Deadline Artists: America’s Greatest Newspaper Columns. John Avlon of Newsweek and The Daily Beast and Errol Lewis of The New York Daily News have compiled a “greatest hits” of columns. They were joined by two of the writers included, Mike Barnicle and the legendary Pete Hamill, to discuss the “art” of column writing.

And it is an art form. A “flash” form. You have maybe 800 words not just to report on events and to voice (or suggest) an opinion, but also to tell a story that engages the reader’s intellect and emotion. It takes extraordinary eye for selecting detail and extraordinary ear for nuance. Above all, a great column puts the reader at the scene, which means the writer has got to be there in the first place. You can’t research a great column on Google. “You have to make the reader’s mind’s eye go where even the camera cannot go.”
Barnicle said that he can’t proceed until he has the reader at the scene by getting the lead sentence just right. And he shared the line that made a Boston boy devouring the dailies determine to become a newspaper columnist—Jim Murray’s “Willie Mays’ glove is where triples go to die.” Hamill demonstrated the art by reading his column written after witnessing the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. You are there, and by the end of the column, Hamill’s frustration and anger are yours.

All four panelists agreed that the easiest column to write simply rants or ridicules and abuses the perceived opposition. Part of the problem with public and political discourse today is that everyone can blog, everyone can be an op-ed machine, but too many are only capable of writing the easiest form of cheap-shot column. Another part of today’s problem is ego – it’s too much about the writer or talking head, too little about the story. An old-school newspaper columnist knew to lose one’s ego – both in the column and in the newsroom. “You get to be a soloist, but the newspaper is the band.” They let you know fast when you got out of line.

A charming sidelight was Barnicle’s admiration of his career-long idol Hamill. Mike was glowing whenever Pete was talking. I probably was, too.
Deadline Artists includes South Florida favorites Dave Barry, Carl Hiaasen, and Leonard Pitts, Jr. It just vaulted to the top of my holiday gift list, both receiving and giving columns.

—Bob Morison

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 6:03 PM

The poetry was better than what I imagined.

Campbell McGrath introduced the three poets reading, Li-Young Lee, Robert Pinsky, and Gerald Stern. McGrath said, "[they] represent three different generations of poet writers." And went on to list the varying prestigious awards, fellowships, honors, and grants they've acquired.

Lee read first. When he walked on stage the first thing that caught my eye was his clothes. He had on thick black glasses (super cool actually). He wore a white, buttoned, shirt, a black suit jacket on top of it, a pair of black shorts with a red circle on the left knee, and a pair of black Saucony sneakers. (Awesome.) He began by saying that he was going to read three poems. Shuffled through his papers, a little nervously. And then said, "I'll read two poems, actually," when he couldn't find that third poem. The audience laughed.

The title to the first poem was muffled, but the reading was not. Lee seemed to be slightly nervous though. For the second poem, Lee gave everyone in the audience a treat. Before beginning the reading, he informed us that the poem he was about to read was brand new—that he'd just begun to write that morning—and that it might even change between the current reading and the next. Again: what a treat indeed! The poem was titled "The Undressing" and it detailed a romantic encounter between two lovers as they undress and speak about their relationship and love. The poem had the two voices of the people in the poem, and although it was read by the one voice of Lee, it was an incredibly dense and sensory moving poem. The poem was long, probably three times as long as the first, but boy what a journey it took the audience through. I barely realized so much time had elapsed until Lee

finished and the next poet came up to read.

Robert Pinsky read six poems for the audience, each time giving an introduction as to either how he came about the subject matter, or what the audience needed to know in advance to understand the poem. He read, "Samurai Song," "Run," "Grief," (beautifully quiet poem, my favorite of his), "Improvisation on Yiddish," (this was funny and made those audience members who understood the language laugh louder), "Creole," and "House Hour."

As Pinsky walked off stage, I looked over to Li-Young Lee who was clapping for Pinsky, along with everyone else, but with a large green granny apple in his hand.

Stern walked on stage after Pinsky's reading, wearing an elegant white and slightly bigger panama hat. When he first walked up to the microphone, he said, "I was going to tell you about—Wait. I'm not going to tell you a story. I just want to say that I loved Robert's reading. I loved Li's reading. They're fantastic poets." To which, the audience clapped in agreement.

Before reading a poem titled "Mars," Stern gave a bit of background on the poem. He told the audience that the poem was about the famous reading that Orson Wells did in Stern's youth of H.G. Well's War of the Wars. And as Stern began to read the first few words, he stopped to say that he knew Orson Wells, and that the poem was (literal quote here) "about that fat man." Laughter from the audience, of course.

Other poems that he read were one whose title that I didn't catch but that began with "We were surrounded by butterflies..., "What For," "My Deer," (about a friend who lived in Homer City and had a pet deer), "Counting," (someone laughed at a reference in the poem during the reading and Stern stopped the reading to say, "Who's laughing? I like that laugh," "Death in the... (missed the last word)," My Liby," (about his grandmother), and "You Can Say What You Want But I Love Nietzsche."

During the brief question and answer period, the first person up asked what kind of advice the poets would give to someone like him who likes writing but has trouble with English as a second language. Pinsky was quick to answer. Among other things he said, "All answers about art come from love... Your guide is a love for the arts. Nothing else."

Someone then asked Lee what helps him read his poetry so well during readings. Without a pause, he answered, "Yeah, right. Panic helps." Everyone laughed.

Then a question was posed asking what inspires them to write poetry and what advice they could give young poets in general. Pinsky answered, "[I write] more poems out of sadness... Something's not quite right with love." Stern answered, "Loneliness is a good word [to write with and about]." And as for the young writer advice, Pinksy said, "Make an anthology [for yourself]. Type it out. Learn your craft by studying things YOU think are great. Study monuments of magnificence. If you can't find a hundred pages worth typing out, you're not trying enough."

Yes, indeed, Mr. PInsky. Great advice I must say.

—Michelle Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 5:25 PM

My boyfriend Matt has been excited all week that Stanley Crouch, notable jazz critic and New York Daily News columnist, was scheduled to appear at the Deadline Artists panel. He drove to meet me here from Boca Raton as soon as his shift ended at work today. Crouch did not show, but Matt did not leave disappointed.

John Avlon (Newsweek, Daily Beast, CNN), Mike Barnicle (New York Daily News, Boston Herald, Boston Globe), Errol Louis (New York Daily News) and Pete Hamill (New York Post) came to the Book Fair to discuss their new book, Deadline Artists, an anthology of news stories intended to showcase the art of journalism. The event was filmed by C-Span Book News.

The panel was concerned with the changes they see in the newspaper business coming as a result of the changes in electronic technology; we are seemingly a nation of 300,000,000 journalists. Twitter has made it possible for anyone to make news. This group of veteran journalists seemed collectively concerned that Americans are losing the beauty and art of a daily print news source with the decline in print readership and increase in online reading. Jim Avlon may have been the one exception. His column in The Daily Beast is available only over the internet. Avlon says he believes it is the quality of the content that matters, not the medium.

Errol Louis likened the American consumption of mass electronic media to the obesity epidemic. Columnists, they argue, are literature in a world of trash, junk food on the table of a gourmet banquet. The classic newspaper column, written when blue collar workers still wore blue collars, was the medium that taught 'America' to people like Barnicle's parents who were Irish immigrants, eager to learn about their new country. The group listed a phalanx of notable writers who once worked in journalism: Ernest Hemingway, O. Henry, Mark Twain, Hunter S. Thompson, Langston Hughes, Orson Wells, and Woody Guthrie to name a few.

The entire panel was interesting, but I was most impressed by Pete Hamill, who talked about getting his first press card, taking it home and sleeping with it every night for the first month. He described his work as though it was manual labor, trudging through trenches as opposed to sitting in an air conditioned office doing journalistic research through search engines. What is at stake here, claims Hamill, is a serious human connection. What is at stake is history in the present tense.

Hamill wanted to know why none of the television news crews recorded interviews with the people celebrating Bin Laden's death in Washington. More recently he wanted to know what the reporters in Happy Valley missed by not interviewing the Penn State students rioting when Joe Paterno was fired, "What kind of kid riots against that?" he asked.

Hamill read a selection from Deadline Artists that was so vivid and chilling that after only a few words, I found myself in the scene he was describing, a greasy hallway in the pantry of the Ambassador Hotel on June 6, 1968, at two minutes before midnight, surrounded by Mexican kitchen workers eager to shake Bobby Kennedy's hand. As Kennedy reaches out to shake one of their hands, "a pimply messenger from the secret heart of America" begins shooting. Former NFL defensive lineman Rosie Grier slams the gunman into a wall. Legendary writer and Paris Review founder George Plimpton tries to grab the gun away, but it is a futile struggle, the gun continues to fire. The air fills with deep animal sounds. Forty two years after Kennedy's assasination, history became present tense.

The need for audiences to have such vivid descriptions of news reporting may be over, he told us. In the days before journalism went visual via televised newscast, a deadline artist had to write a first person visual account of the news.

Hamill answered a question about writing about the Occupy Wall Street protests by saying he doesn't care to write about it, because it is only the first stage of an event that will certainly turn into something else. "It is dangerous to create people who have nothing to lose," he said, speaking of the current economic crisis, and the hardships people are going through right now. He likened it to another period of time, the 1930s and pointed out that in that era, the result of the same kind of economic crisis led to the rise of Hitler, Mussolini, Franco and Hideki Tojo.

Hamill says that he hopes things get better, "I don't want to see any more blood. I have seen enough blood." He commented that the tendency with social media and online journalism is towards bullying and humiliation. "I don't have much faith in a country that's mean-spirited and stupid. [I've] watched the debates. These guys couldn't be elevator operators."

For the first time tonight in the audience at the Book Fair, I noticed that the seats in the room were littered with newspapers, and that as I entered the room, many audience members were reading the paper. I don't see that much anymore in my day-to-day life. It makes me sad to think that such an important means of getting the news is going away.

It made me want to earn a press pass, take it home and sleep with it every day for a month. I think it made Matt, my boyfriend want change too. He is a chef. Now, he says, he may have to take up writing.

—Jan Becker

Pictured from left are Errol Louis, Pete Hamill, Mike Barnicle and John Avlon. (Photo, Jan Becker)

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 5:15 PM

Terry Cronin, author of The Skinvestigator: Tramp Stamp, Book One of The Sunshine State Trilogy, finds promise beneath his tent on Writer's Row. Sales started slowly, but have picked up in the afternoon as neighboring booksellers slash prices on inventory they'd rather not tote back to their stores. A former Miami resident who'd never attended the book fair prior to this year, Cronin finds copies of his mystery series featuring Dr. Harry Poe, a dermatologist who aids the police in a murder investigation in the "unexpected world of illicit cosmetic surgery, tattoos and flesh," easier to sell than the comic books he also pens.

—Ed Irvin

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 5:01 PM

So excited about the poetry reading coming up in the auditorium. Is that Li-Young Lee chatting with poet and professor Campbell McGrath? I think so!

—Michele Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 5:00 PM*

The Author Hospitality center is located in the lobby of the MDC Library. I slunk in, holding my press lanyard ahead of me like a talisman. I didn’t trust my press pass, what with my full name scrawled in bleeding ink, half-smudged. I feared that some official might spot me, whistle to security, and wrestle me to the ground.

This, unfortunately, did not happen.

Safely beyond the entryway gauntlet, I scoured the room for coffee. After the Bhagavad Gītā debacle, I needed something to settle my nerves. The room was bright and cheerful, wide windows to the left facing out on downtown Miami. There were trays with cookies, and smiling people serving some type of pastry. I saw Ed Irvin, who pointed me towards the coffee table. I began pouring. I only got my cup half-full before the pot started choking out steam. I turned back to Ed, but he was gone. In his place was Chuck Palahniuk, and he was sneering. He held his sneer for at least ten seconds. I took a step back.

“That was the last of the coffee,” he said.

I looked behind me hoping that someone was around to hear it. No one heard.

“I think there’s more,” I said, reaching for a new cup and spraying steam into the Styrofoam. I kept pushing on the lever until Chuck reached for my hand.

“Stop it!” he said. “I want your coffee.” His eyes were like cauldrons.

“Here, take it!” I said. I pushed my coffee at him. It splashed upon his white cotton shirt.

He gasped. It was an uncomfortably long, overly dramatic gasp. I wondered if we were being filmed.

“I—”

“No-no-no-no, not this!” Palahniuk said. He looked over his shirt, assessing the damage. He then thrust a finger at me and screeched. It filled my ears with hornets. It was awful. I saw several authors fall to their knees, their plates of gingersnaps scattering on the carpet. I spotted Ed Irvin three tables over. He was shaking his head. What could I do?

Palahniuk grabbed the back of his chair, lifted it over his head, and smashed it into the window.

He turned to me. “I was scheduled,” he snarled, “to talk about my new book, Damned. But that’ll have to wait.”

And he leapt out the window.

—Justin Bendell

*Editor's Note: Time is approximate. We have been unable to verify some details of this incident. Mr. Pahlaniuk did make his session, see our coverage of it above.

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:40 PM

Dreaded line of the Fair: the bathroom line!

—Michelle Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:15 PM

Jim Ray Daniels read a memorable story from his new book, Trigger Man: More Tales of the Motor City (Saturday at 3:30 in 3410). In "Scenic Outlooks," an adolescent boy develops some understanding of (if not exactly respect for) his old man while on the only family vacation the family ever attempted. A vacation from hell, except that hell must be more interesting and have more going on than at Carl's (with a "C") Kabins (with a "K") upstate in Michigan. By story's end, outlooks—scenic and otherwise—have improved. Daniels' eye for detail and ear for the rhythm of language are uncanny and often hilarious.

—Bob Morison

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:12 PM

I originally attended the "Lives Real and Imagined" talk on graphic novels at 3:30 with the intent to see Kate Beaton, a well-known webcomic artist and author of Hark! A Vagrant. She ended up being a no-show, but I'm glad I showed up anyway for the three great comic authors who remained. The works of all three concerned historical figures, but treated them in very different ways. Jim Ottavani's Feynman is designed to explain the famous physicist's life and science in an approachable and entertaining, if realistic, manner, while Michael Kupperman's Mark Twain's Autobiography: 1910 to 2010 instead takes a historical figure and removes him from all sense of reality, placing Twain in a twentieth century more surreal than a Dalí painting and more fast-paced than an elementary particle. Ray Fawkes in One Soul takes on an even more challenging scope—his graphic novel follows eighteen characters from across history, from prehistoric times to the twenty-first century, in the process illustrating how their lives are not quite as different as they first seem. While the three books (and the three presentations) were very different in tone, I could tell from the questions that all three found an interested and engaged audience who clearly wanted more.

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:12 PM

—James Barrett-Morison

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:08 PM

Came across an incredible find! Roberto Bolaño's 2666 at the Bootleggers' stand for seven bucks.

—Michelle Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:01 PM

Diana Abu-Jaber spoke of her latest novel, Birds of Paradise. Abu-Jaber said that she wanted to fall in love with Miami, to commit to the place. This book served as a catalyst for that. In the novel, a family moves from Ithaca to Coral Gables. Their teenage daughter runs away, tormenting the mother by coming and going without any consistency or communication. The mother, a pastry chef, copes with this loss by immersing herself in her work. She befriends a Haitian neighbor and seeks the neighbor’s help to find her daughter. Magical help. I enjoyed the reading: the language was sharp, transitioning seamlessly from dialague to thought. Sugar “the one irreducible element in her work” served as a nice connective thread, tying together sugarcane in Haiti to sugar-use in the pastry kitchen. “Every particle was a bit of memory,” said the mother. I am excited to read the book. And to eat some sugar.

—Justin Bendell

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 4:00 PM

I headed over to Building 7 for the How Mysterious! reading by Jeffrey Siger, Neil Plakcy, Sharon Potts, and Ian Vasquez. Each of them talked about what elements they like to focus their stories on, such as atmospheres and identity. However, I felt that the main focus of this session was where the stories were taking place. Plakcy began by reading from the first chapter of his new novel, Mahu Blood, which is set in Hawaii. He talked about his main character and having to solve a murder he witnesses during a parade held by a Hawaiian demonstration. Plakcy focuses a lot on the history of Hawaii and the people who are descended from the original inhabitants. He uses present-day issues for these descendants as part of the backdrop of his novel.

Potts' new novel, Someone's Watching, is set in South Florida. She talked about how she liked to write about Miami and how experiences from her personal life influence her work. For this novel, she treated the audience to a personal account about a road trip to the Keys where she and a friend were drugged by a pair of med students they met at a bar. This incident inspired the novel's plot, and was used as an incident for the first chapter, which she read.

Greece is the setting of most of Siger's works, and he told the audience of how he liked to bring up some of the contemporary issues the country faces. I was disappointed he didn't read something from his novel, which involves the murder of a monk at the Island of Patmos. Vasquez read an excerpt from his book, Mr. Hooligan, towards the end of his talk. First he spoke of why he sets his stories in Belize, and how the drug dealers he came to learn about influenced the creation of a few of his characters. Vasquez talked a lot about the hard life in Belize and how he wanted to keep that sense of reality he observes in his stories. I couldn't help but reflect on Vasquez writing what he knew. I remember Michael Hettich talking about this in my Intro to Creative Writing class a few years back. This session, and its focus on setting, appears to confirm that this notion works in their fiction.

—Ignacio J. Fontan

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:46 PM

“Out here, you could hear the beginning of the wind.” - Karen Russell, author of Swamplandia!

—Justin Bendell

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:45 PM

From Dollar Scholar I purchased three used books for $1 each. I am a huge Graham Greene fan, so I grabbed a copy of The Honorary Consul.

I am utterly ambivalent about Ernest Hemingway. To help straighten out my mixed feelings, and learn more about the man behind the writing, I picked up Hemingway's brother Leicester's biography, My Brother, Ernest Hemingway. The book includes a photo of Ernest, one year old, moon-faced and cherubic, wearing a lace-edged dress. I like him better already.

Then, just for fun, I grabbed a copy of Leonard Nimoy's memoir, I am Spock. This was a follow-up to his first memoir, I am Not Spock.

From McSweeney's booth, I purchased a back issue of McSweeney's Issue 19, which retails for $22, but was on sale for $12. Last year, I picked up McSweeney's 36, a big box that looked like a head and was designed to give the feeling of sifting through the editor, Dave Eggers' head. Issue 19 was also a box. This one had a cover graphic of a German soldier looking through a spyglass on the top, and a mushroom cloud on the bottom. Inside, the box was filled with Cold War reminiscent items, like a manual on how to survive nuclear fallout, and a pamphlet on how astrology will help the Republican Party win the election.

I also got a free hand sanitizer for completing a survey about the Book Fair.

—Jan Becker

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:39 PM

Uh-oh. No vegetarian/vegan-friendly food on the scene! And, just to be clear, a $3 (dry) Papa John's slice of pizza is no good either.

—Michelle Frau

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:35 PM

I had never heard of Roger Rosenblatt before attending his discussion about his new book, Unless it Moves the Heart: The Craft and Art of Writing. He has worked in journalism, fiction, and playwriting, and is also a Fulbright Scholar. He didn't look extraordinary, but his book fascinated me. I've read John Gardner's The Art of Fiction and Stephen King's On Writing, among other how-to-write books, and this one seems to include all of the standard "Why write?" responses. But Rosenblatt also seems to have a fresh perspective on the philosophy of a writer: "Spill the beans as fast as you can," he says. "Even if you think you have the greatest idea in the world, get rid of it so you can get another one." I think I want to read his book just for how he talks about writing. The next panel was starting to pile into the room, so he wrapped things up by answering the age-old question of why people should write. "I don't think everyone should write, but for those who do, here's something: Both you and the human heart are full of sorrow, but only one of you can speak of it."

—Marci Calabretta

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:34 PM

Caught between sessions with limited time, I rushed off in the direction of the food court for a quick bite to eat. As I crossed through a street fair intersection, I was approached by a tall, shorn-headed man in mustard-colored robes who offered me a copy of the Bhagavad Gītā. I waves my hand. "I'm in a hurry," I said. He urged me, "It's good for meditation." "No!" I said, and veered away from him. I was too stressed to deal with hand-outs. After I wolfed down a sub-standard, over-priced arepa, my heart palpitated me back to Building 3 to catch Diana Abu-Jaber's reading. In the packed auditorium it dawned on me, as I sat in an uncomfortable position, suffering from dyspepsia and exhaustion, that maybe I should have taken the man's offer.

—Justin Bendell

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, 3:16 PM

Just made our way through the beautiful China pavilion. To my surprise the theme (or, is it country of choice?) for the Book Fair is China. The pavilion has been itransformed to reflect the famous aesthetics of Chinese culture. Beautiful lamps hang from the ceiling, wood carvings of Chinese letters decorate the entrance (great for posing for photos), delicate intricate paintings of classic Chinese figures line the walls.
Lots of excited and sociable Chinese girls approach my boyfriend, who carried our baby in a baby-carrier, for photos. That is, after exclaiming "How cute" the baby is, they all took out their cameras and snapped photos of our celebrity baby.
Then one of them went on stage, prompted by a stern chaperone, and began to play a lovely traditional melody on an instrument that I can only describe as being a cross between a violin and a small ukelele. The crowd took photos, cheered, and some even gave a standing ovation to the talented musician.

—Michelle Frau

In the China Pavilion. Photo, Michelle Frau.

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