Thanks

Nov 212018
 

I approach most holidays with an anthropologist’s mindset. I like to know the history of the holiday, I’m interested in the customs and rituals and I enjoy watching other people celebrate. Sometimes I even participate; yet most holidays don’t engage me.  For starters, there are too many of them; worse, they have mostly fallen prey to our relentless need to “retail-ize” our holidays, so that every celebration, however solemn or sacred, seems to come with its own sales and marketing plan.

However, I confess to having a weakness when it comes to Thanksgiving. Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving is about food – or rather, about the preparing and partaking of a meal together, which is the penultimate social experience. Then there’s the Macy’s parade, which, yes,  I watch every Thanksgiving morning. Most significantly, I like sitting down and giving thanks.

Cynics may point out that family gatherings can bring out the worst in people; that the Macy’s parade doesn’t always benefit from the kind of perfect weather we had this morning; and that selecting one day a year to be thankful is ridiculous,  especially when gratitude competes with turkey, cranberry sauce and Aunt Kate’s stuffing.

But taking stock of one’s good fortune is a useful exercise and we need to start somewhere. So I say, go ahead and give thanks for friends, family, health, your spouse, kids or pet, or even the kindness of strangers during difficult times. Tip your hat to silly things that make you smile, like cheesy TV shows, take-out food, unexpectedly balmy skies or even a pair of comfortable shoes. And spend a moment thanking others who are working on your behalf around the world. Wish them well and safe journey home in time for Thanksgiving next year.

In Praise of Book Clubs

Oct 022018
 

Dear friends: I love meeting readers. One of the best ways to do that is through book clubs. I’ve appeared before several since the release of The Former Assassin. I’ve interacted with members in person or via Skype. The experience keeps me on my toes; it’s also great fun.

I want to celebrate book clubs this month in several ways. I’ve interviewed a good friend who is a dedicated clubber. Her curiosity and enthusiasm for reading are contagious. She loves to read. In other words, she is an author’s dream!

I’m also running a month-long book club special that include deep discounts on ten or more print orders along with a free Skype or (if possible) in person appearance (“meet the author”) as well as an Amazon Kindle giveaway beginning October 14th.

Meanwhile, enjoy the interview with book clubber extraordinaire Sue Phillips.

Sue Phillips1. How did you become a book clubber?
I’ve always loved reading. My mom, a voracious reader, always said that one could never be truly lonely if there was a book to read (she also always said if you could read, you could cook, but that one hasn’t always worked for me!) I’ve moved around a lot (New York, Denver, San Francisco Bay Area, Missouri, now back on the East Coast), and book clubs have always helped me meet people and get involved in a new area.

When we first moved to Princeton, NJ, we didn’t know anyone. Learning that there was not a book club I could join in our community, I decided to start one. I put it in our Community newsletter, selected The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah and 12 people showed up! We’ve been meeting for almost three years and not only has the group filled my need for book discussions, it’s given me friendships and a sense of belonging.

2. Tell us about your first club.
It began with a group of friends who started reading the same books and thought, why not get together to discuss them? It was part social, part discussion and always fun! Over the years, members left, new members joined, but being a part of that group always remained a constant.

3. What books did you read in that first club?
I remember The Birth Order Book by Dr. Kevin Leman (1998 Baker Publishing Group), where the discussion was much more of a personal nature to The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory (2001, Scribner), where we wore tiaras and drank champagne—how courtly.

4. What do you get out of book clubs?
I love getting exposed to different authors and different genres of books. It takes me out of my comfort zone. It has also made me more aware of how many good books there are out there and please give me enough time to read them!

5. What’s the most interesting observation you’ve made about belonging to book clubs?
I’m always amazed when someone has a totally different perspective on a book. Usually it will be varying degrees of like/love or dislike; but sometimes someone comes up with a totally different way of looking at a character or a theme, and there’s an epiphany! Wow! I may never think or look at “that” the same way again! That to me is fascinating.

6. Do you ever get to meet the author?
Besides the wonderful Nikki Stern, who enthralled our book club, there were 2 writers who visited a book club I was in several years ago. One gave us the historical background of the area we were living in, the other the beginning steps on how to get published. Very different but also interesting.

7. Does your book club have a designated discussion leader?
Not really. I am the one that usually does all the correspondence: reminder of meetings, the book selections we have made, getting the meeting started, etc. but I like to defer to whoever recommended the book to start the discussion.

8. Do you (or does your leader) predetermine discussion themes or are your discussions more free-wheeling?
Our discussions are much more free-wheeling but it depends on the book. When this book club first started, we relied more on Book Club discussion questions and reviews, but now we are comfortable just discussing the book. We also try to balance heavy themed books with lighter ones. While gives us a nice balance, it also means that some meetings can get very intense while others are lighter and a bit more social.

9. Who would you recommend join a book club?
I would recommend a book club to anyone who wants to broaden their interests and is open to new things. Reading is wonderful, but being able to share your thoughts with others, enriches the experience. Discussing ideas and characters, listening to different perspectives, looking at topics and situations from someone else’s viewpoint, these all make me feel more connected.

Look Up

Aug 302018
 

The man at the airport was just like everyone else. He kept his eyes down and on his iPhone. Or maybe he had a Samsung. He read, he texted, he interacted with the phone. All around him were people likewise fixated on their various devices. Some nodded in time to silent music or held murmured conversations with invisible colleagues. Occasionally, they glanced up, only to transfer their attention to an electronic device at some remove—an arrival notice, a gate number, or one of the ubiquitous wide-screens delivering an endless stream of infotainment.

Okay, it’s the airport. Not much to see. On the other hand, nothing alarms me as much as everyone on phonebeing in a crowd of indiscriminately inattentive people. What aren’t they seeing? What might they miss? What if something happens? I feel even worse about people who walk, run, bike, take out the dog, ride or, god forbid, drive with their heads down.

I get the appeal of a smart device. Timely information and instant connection in the palm of your hand. Directions and photos and messages and news. Yes, but also a false sense of control and an opportunity to disengage from the here and now.

We may avoid the ugly and stressful. We may also miss the unusual or the beautiful.

On board my flight, I found myself next to the same man. He offered a polite smile; then bent urgently over his phone, as if to squeeze in every last bit of data possible before the jet doors closed. As soon as we reached cruising altitude, my seat companion signed onto the Internet.

I’m not going to lie; I read from my tablet during the flight. But I didn’t bother to connect. What was going to happen while I was in the air and what was I going to do about it anyway? Occasionally I glanced out the window. It was a beautiful day for flying.

When the wheels hit the ground, I quickly turned on my cell phone, as did everyone else on the plane, scanning for important updates. Force of habit, I told myself, although in truth the habit is less than two decades old and I’ve been flying a lot longer than that. I wasn’t meeting anyone. I just wanted to be “reachable.”

I drove my rental car to the hotel on Key Largo, checked in, and went for a walk along the beach. I took my phone but kept it in my pocket.

At dinner that night, I sat alone with my food, a glass of wine and…my phone. It’s a terrific dinner companion for a single person; you never feel alone or disconnected and you look engaged, maybe even important. On the other hand, vacation is about getting away from the routine and into something new. Look up, I reminded myself.

The dining area was somewhat open-air, with floor to ceiling windows affording an ocean view. The smell of salt and jasmine mixed with the menu offerings. The balmy air felt like velvet.

At the next table, I noticed a group of middle-aged people saying grace. Quaint, I thought, but kind of sweet. No, wait; they each had phones and they were wrapped up in various efforts to reach out to someone or something that wasn’t at the table. Occasionally one of them tossed out a comment and there was a burst of conversation. Even then, no one made eye contact. It occurred to me that a group of strangers could sit down at their table and they might not even notice.

The next morning, I awoke before dawn and logged onto my tablet. After an hour, I pulled myself out of a digitally-induced torpor. Get out, I ordered myself. I took my phone but kept it in my pocket. Who needed to reach me? Who did I need to contact? What was the meaning of the word “relax” in our wired/wireless world anyway? And how was I going to get rid of the crick in my neck unless I lifted my head?

The tiny beach glistened in the early morning sun. I looked across the gulf and saw only water—no towers, cranes, cruise ships or high-rise buildings. A few people wandered about, including, to my surprise, my seat buddy from the flight down. He’d obviously reunited with his family—two small children, a boy and a girl and an attractive woman I took to be his wife.

diving pelicansYet he remained tethered to his phone, perched on the edge of his chair, squinting at the small screen. A flock of pelicans swooped low to the water, delighting the little girl. “Daddy, daddy,” she cried to her multi-tasking father, “Look at the birds!” He waved, but never took his eyes off the phone.

I didn’t need to be told twice, however. I looked up. Watching the birds, warmed by the sun, I stretched my neck and eased into my surroundings.

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