Books

Our cast takes a bow at Staten Island OutLOUD’s annual performance of “Moby Dick” at historic Fort Wadsworth.

What is Staten Island OutLOUD?
Staten Island OutLOUD is a grass-roots dialogue and performance project. Several times a month, we present free gatherings in community settings throughout Staten Island. We gather to read aloud to one another from a variety of world classics and other compelling literature. There’s nothing to buy, nothing to prepare. Just come with an open mind; we’ll lend you copies of the featured literature. Anyone who wants to read aloud is welcome to do so; those who’d prefer not to, can just sit back and enjoy being read to. We draw a diverse, intergenerational audience. In fact, we bring together many people who might otherwise never have a chance to meet. We share ideas about what we’re just read, and enjoy hearing a variety of viewpoints. Most of our events are intimate, participatory readings, but several times a year we present large staged events with music. All our events are free.

My father moved into my Brooklyn home about 10 years ago when my mother died, and thus began my career as his personal librarian. When he first moved to Brooklyn, I showed him how to use the bus system so he could travel to and from the Brooklyn Central Library. I gave him a simplified explanation of the Dewey system; telling him what I tell everyone who comes to the reference desk, “think of the number as the address where the subject or book lives on the shelf.” I knew my father’s reading preferences very well and it was with assurance that I sent him to the 940’s to find exactly what he would like. For the most part he took care of his reading material himself, with his weekly jaunts to the library. I would pepper his selections with other books I thought he might enjoy from the collections at Mid-Manhattan. Favorites in the category were Samuel Pepys: The Unequaled Self by Claire Tomalin , Sweet and Low: A Family Story by Rich Cohen, Wild Swans:Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, The Color of Love: A Mother’s Choice in the Jim Crow South by Gene Cheek and much more. His reading was varied, but mainly it was WWII history he loved and always non-fiction. While at my house he watched no TV. My father just read for his entertainment. As far as I could tell he loved it.

A year and half ago my father became quite ill. I had noticed he did not seem himself so I forced him to go the doctor. I was informed that my father was very sick with congestive heart failure, a common affliction of the elderly. He was so sick there was cause for concern whether he would even live. For 10 days I maintained a presence at the hospital. I sadly watched him turn old right before my eyes. I brought him books while at the hospital but they remained unread. I surmised he was distracted by his plight. Naturally he became depressed. Life was now different and he would have to adjust, or not. The trips to the library would now become memories. Within a matter of days his world became miniscule to what it had been. Miles of travel would now be reduced to blocks, if he was lucky. There was nothing neither he nor I could do; this was life, cruel and ironic.

Once home my father tried to manage a hefty depression. He now had to get used to a new self and that new self would be drastically different from a few weeks before. I brought him books, foolishly thinking reading would be a welcome distraction. How wrong I was. The books gathered dust and their beckoning was left unanswered. I finally broke down and bought him a TV and had cable installed. My kids were thrilled and my father became a zombie in front of the blue screen. He watched for hours and would sleep and then watch more. It broke my heart. He seemed unable to focus on a book. Outwardly he seemed fine, but to me he had become a mere shadow of himself. He no longer seemed an active participant in life, but rather a passive ride taker. I became resigned to my new father and just tried to make him comfortable.

There came a time recently when I brought home two books, the book I was reading A Death in the Family by James Agee and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides the book I planned to start reading afterwards. My father is Greek and our family is from Detroit so I made a point of showing him Middlesex because of the Greek author and the Detroit setting for his book.

My father in his old age has developed a keen interest in everything Greek. I thought the Eugenides book would interest him, if not to read then to simply marvel at the author’s heritage. To my surprise it was the Agee book that caught his interest. He said about the Agee book, “I always wanted to read this book.” With that, I said “here pops, take it, you read it.” That was months ago and my father has been reading fiction every since. Perhaps by reading fiction my father has been able to recapture a part of life that he has lost in his own life. Author Paul Theroux once said “fiction gives us a second chance that life denies us.” I bring him mysteries like: Georges Simenon, Henning Mankell, Elmore Leonard and other works of fiction from Ian McEwan to Somerset Maugham and many more. I am happy to be of service to my father for as long as it lasts. I am also so thankful to be working at Mid-Manhattan, with such an incredible collection of fiction to choose from.

If I had all the time in the world, I think I would spend every weekend watching every minute of Book TV on CSPAN2. In case you don’t know about it, it is mostly readings and talks by authors of non-fiction books, which are mostly but not entirely related to politics. I find it  fascinating.
Since I don’t have all the time in the world, this past weekend I watched 2 hours worth. One was Alan Weisman discussing his book The World Without Us, which is a look at what nature would do if there were no people around, one of the assumptions being that there were no dead human bodies for nature to deal with. It was quite humbling realizing how fast nature would take over. Mr. Weisman is a very engaging speaker, and is  well-versed on the subject.
The 2nd hour I watched Edwidge Danticatt both read from and discuss her new book Brother I’m Dying. It is a reminiscence of the troubles her 81 year old uncle had in trying to come to the US. He claimed political asylum, and Ms. Danticatt tells all the problems he had in convincing US government officials that this was necessary to save his life. Ms. Danticatt read in a calm but still passionate manner, reflecting on the difficulties of immigration, as well as the trials and joys of Haitian life.
They do almost no fiction or poetry on Book TV, but even so, every time I watch it I come away with a feeling of how wonderful these authors are, and how much they put into their books and how enlightening they can be.
Check it out–Book TV on CSPAN2 (available only on cable.) But don’t blame me if you can’t turn it off!

Easy Rawlins is very near and dear to my heart. If he was real I would be in love. Instead I must admire him from afar, through the written word. The man I have the biggest crush on exists only on the page and in my mind’s eye. He is the protagonist of the acclaimed Easy Rawlins series created by noted author Walter Mosley.
I discovered Mosley by accident. I was visiting friends a few years back and I was hungry for something to read, something fun. We got on the topic of books and I mentioned my desire. Mosley was suggested with the added endorsement of Bill Clinton considering Mosley a favorite. That night I looked Mosley up in Novelist (how I miss that database) and discovered the Easy Rawlins series. The next day I got the first book, Devil in a Blue Dress. I read practically the whole book in one sitting. I loved it. I then went on to the third and fourth and within a matter of time I had read the entire series practically in one long sitting and I was hooked. There were so many things that I liked about Easy Rawlins: he was smart but not arrogant, he made mistakes, he was human, he had tremendous humility that he wore like a well fitting suit, and lastly he aged in each installment.
Mosley uses the backdrop of an historical milieu, sometimes using significant events like the Watts Riot to set a story. Mosley’s writing is top notch, graceful and powerful. His sentences often warrant a second look. His secondary characters are well thought out and purposeful.
There is tragedy and humor to the East Rawlins series. They often make me cry.
When I started doing programming, in the back of mind I thought how wonderful it would be to have Walter Mosley come speak at the library. I fantasized about what the night would be like. I seriously wanted to meet Walter Mosley and tell him how much of a fan I was of Easy Rawlins. So in this frame of mind I fired off a letter to Walter Mosley, then two and three, all of them passionately inviting him to come speak at the library. His publicist tried to let me down gently, but I would not give up. After many months and many more letters I did finally give up, putting my school girl crush on Easy Rawlins to rest. I thanked his publicists (there were two or three) for their help and I put the idea of Walter Mosley coming to speak at the library away.
Then last year I was strolling the aisles of the Book Expo at the Javits Center and as luck would have it, I came across the Little Brown & Co. booth and right in front was promotion for the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series Blonde Faith. I can’t tell you how excited I was. I gently inquired about having Walter Mosley come to the library. The reception of the request was warm but they would have to check with the author first. I requested business cards and went on my way.
Once back at the library the work began, I composed an email to Walter Mosley’s publicist and waited a week. No response. I re-sent the email with a new email on top. This time a response. It went this way back and forth for a about a month, maybe two. I finally was able to secure a date and with that my heart raced with joy. Getting a solid date of NOV 20 2007 erased the feeling of inadequacy that accompanied my previous attempt to get Walter Mosley to come to the library. Now I was elated and proud. But all the work that went into getting Walter Mosley to come to the library and the great feeling of joy I felt was for naught. In September I was notified by his publicists that Mr. Mosley would not be coming to the library after all. I was frustrated and extremely disappointed and there was nothing I could do about it.
Yesterday was Christmas Eve. I finished Blonde Faith, the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series. I happened to be on the train and there it was: the last page, then the last paragraph and finally the last sentence. I shut the book, looked up and thought to myself what a great book it was and how much I love Easy Rawlins.

There is a saying that some of the most precious moments in our lives are special just because we didn’t know that they were important at that time.
I mention this because for the past few weeks I’ve been experiencing a resurgence of interest in the topic of famous fires, a subject that has fascinated and haunted me ever since I happened across a book on the topic at the library at MacDill Air Force Base (Tampa, Florida) when I was eleven years old. I remember sitting in the aisle between the shelves, utterly spellbound by black and white photos of the aftermaths of great conflagrations. There I learned for the first time about the Iroquois Theater in Chicago (1903), the Triangle Shirtwaist Company in New York (1911), and the Cocoanut Grove nightclub in Boston (1942). Even at that age, I could fill the images of the blackened and scorched buildings with visions of crowds of people being burned and trampled as they tried to escape. I saw in my mind’s eye the mingled bravery and helplessness of the firemen and could imagine the unavailing anguish of the victims’ families. I never forgot about that red-covered book whose name I cannot now recall, for it engendered an interest in me that resurfaces whenever a new book is published on the subject of a famous fire.


Habermann, Franz Xaver (1721-1796) - Engraver
“Representation du Feu terrible a Nouvelle Yorck”
In: The Eno Collection of City Views
Published: 1776
Books on Famous Fires
I recently read the books “Chicago Death Trap” and “Tinder box” (both available from New York Public Library), about the Iroquois Theater fire. They are very well written, and it is easy for their readers to imagine themselves in the audience watching the musical comedy “Mister Bluebeard” on that fateful December afternoon shortly after Christmas.
One frame in life’s endless ribbon of events
And here is the core of this entry. The families and couples and shopgirls and children who filled the hall to capacity and beyond that day had no idea while watching a song-and-dance number called “In the Pale Moonlight” that a stage lamp being used to flood the theater with a beautiful blue light was sparking and setting one of the scenery curtains afire. Half an hour after this moment of ignition, over six hundred of the audience would be dead, many more trampled than burned in a terrible stampede to the narrrow exits. I am haunted by this last moment before the fire and the panic. I replay it in my mind’s eye and can iris in like a camera on any and every detail. …The ornate theater, newly opened. Men in celluloid collars and vests sitting next to their wives in corsets, high-button shoes and immense feathered hats. Children excited by the performance or bored and wishing they were home playing with their new toys. Audience members standing behind the last rows of seats or sitting in the aisles. The excited cast and crew members backstage readying sets, props and costumes. The gasps of wonder from the viewers as the theater fills with artificial “moonlight”. Aerialist Nellie Reed waiting high above the stage, ready to swing out over the audience during her number where she’ll scatter flower petals over the crowd. (She will be one of the few cast members to perish when she is forgotten on her perch after the fire breaks out.)… It’s all so poignant and pregnant with portent … to me, because I know what’s going to happen next! None of the people there in the theater that afternoon knew that they would soon be fighting for their lives. Until the fire brought its tragedy, this was an average performance in a typical theater for everyday people. I use my imagination to crystallize a moment into a myth that is very powerful for my mental picture of the world. I can put myself virtually into the audience and freeze that instant in time, viewing it from every angle. But in real life, this is just one “frame” in life’s endless ribbon of events, no more or less special than any other.
I know that events can’t really be frozen into a bell jar or vitrine. Logic says that there was nothing remarkable about the last distribution of pay envelopes that Saturday afternoon at the Triangle factory, or singer Goodie Goodell playing the piano atop a revolving platform that night in the Melody Lounge at the Cocoanut Grove. But I choose, emotionally, to focus on and reflect on them, combing them for meaning and sometimes being reduced to tears at the evocative power of their sheer ordinariness. To return to the theme of this post, these things and moments were special because they were not important at their time. I have the luxury of living later and being able to “stop the film”, so to speak. The people caught up in these events were forced into and through them and did not have this choice. Maybe this is why I think so much about them.



The Burning of Rome : descriptive march and two-step / E. T. Paull, c1903
From the “Treasures of the Performing Arts” digital project

First place winner of th Adult Summer Reading Club is Joanne Olson, who will be receiving a $25 gift certificate to the Cape House Gallery. Natasha Leone came in 2nd place and received a $10 gift certificate to Egger’s Ice Cream Parlor, and Annette Reid finished in third place, and she will receive a gift certificate for one large cheese pie from Classic Pizza. Congratulations to them!