Closely read

It as an honour and a gift to be so closely read, by anyone, and then to have these readers (often writers themselves) share their thoughts. I'm fortunate to have had this experience twice in the past few weeks, first by Neil Elder, author of the poetry pamphlet Codes of Conduct and my fellow Sabotage Awards shortlistee (congratulations, Neil!) on his blog, Neil Elder Poetry, where he responds to my poem, Life Just Swallows You Up: "I’m laughing, then thinking and feeling, and then admiring. I’ve read ‘Life Just Swallows You Up’ and I immediately want to re-read".

The second, also around a poem from my chapbook, is the excellent Proletarian Poetry: Poetry of Working Class Lives. Peter Raynard asked if he could reprint my Conversations With A Taxi Driver, Falmouth, and he talks about what the poem raised for him: "This is a fascinating short poem because it leaves a lot to the imagination, allowing us to drift with our thoughts the same way a taxi driver must do when waiting on their next fare." 

Thank you, Neil and Peter, I hope I can pass on the favour of such close reading!

I'm absolutely delighted that my poetry pamphlet has been shortlisted for the fantastic Saboteur Awards, an annual celebration of all things indie - from books and publishers, literary magazines and live events to authors and performers - in the UK! It operates by public vote and the voting is now open until May 24th so please do pop over there and show some support to your favourite performers, lit mags, publishers etc... The link is here. My second collection, My Mother Was An Upright Piano, won 2nd prize in the short story collection category in 2013, which meant an enormous amount to me.

And on the subject of pamphlets/chapbooks, I've just been interviewed about mine over at Speaking of Marvels, a wonderful website which describes itself as "interviews about chapbooks, novellas, and other shorter forms". I am so happy that Will title the interview "Give yourself permission to write what you want to read" because permission is such an important word for me - in writing and in life, if the two can be separated - and something I try and pass on when I can. I had to answer some quite marvellous questions, here's one:

Without stopping to think, who are ten poets whose work you would tattoo on your body, or at least your clothing, to take with you at all times?

Adrienne Rich (I already have), Sharon Olds, Grace Paley, Richard Brautigan (poetic license there), Rumi, Jo Bell, Michael Donaghy, the author of the Song of Songs (in Hebrew), Elizabeth Bishop, Emily Dickinson

You can read the whole interview here, and find out more about my chapbook, Nothing Here Is Wild, Everything Is Open, here.

More permission...

Following on from the previous post about permission & taking risks, two things have occurred in the past two days that I want to talk about in terms of where I get permission from. Now, I did stop for a moment and wonder about writing this, since it may just come off as boastful self-promotion, but it's an important part of my writing life and my career as an author, and that's what this blog is supposed to be all about, so I decided to do it.

What occurred were two absolutely amazing reviews of My Mother Was An Upright Piano: Fiction, published both published on Friday. Before I go into that, I want to first say that even now, after quite a few years of having short stories and other work published in literary magazines, after having two collections published, I still think it's quite miraculous that the result of the bizarre workings of my mind, the combination of words I've put on a page, in any way connects or speaks to anyone else, anyone outside of my mind. And, as I mentioned in the previous post, thanks to the permission gifted to me by other writers' work, I have been taking more risks in my own, and to me my stories have been getting odder and odder.  (My mother is in the habit now, when I send her a new story, of saying "Darling, I really enjoyed it, even though I had no idea what was going on.") Even more surprising then that anyone "gets" what I think I may have been trying to do (which I don't always know, either).

So, you can imagine that the fact that these two reviewers did is incredibly moving to me. Here is Martin Macaulay writing for Sabotage Reviews, who shortlisted my book for their Saboteur awards short story collection category:

Hershman writes with a lyrical precision that slices apart what it is to be human... My Mother was an Upright Piano is more than the sum of its parts. The book is structured into seven groups of six and two groups of seven, bonding this collection together as tightly as a chemical compound. It’s a solid, unbreakable and inspiring collection. Hershman creates worlds with depth and heart. She shows us lives soaked in loss; some with glimpses of hope, others dystopian.

And here is Kerry Shadid in her review in World Literature Today:

Her presentation of the tragedy and the oddity of our human lives is the typed equivalent of a performance artist at MOMA: strange, unfamiliar, captivating. ...The universe’s dark energy palpitates on Hershman’s pages; she gives emptiness form. Characters struggle to communicate, to make themselves known to others. Hopes for the world to be other than it is are met with silence. Longing blankets the text. Sentences stop before they reach their conclusion, words omitted by the author in sympathy with the reticence of her fictional creations. The unsaid contains both dagger and salve, and Hershman’s silences both break and heal the heart. 

It's hard to tell you how I feel just re-reading these two excerpts. It's like I've been heard, at a very deep level. It feels like a blessing, to be read so closely. And what's also wonderful is that they both feel that the book - whose stories were all written with no thought of being collected - works as a whole, somehow.

I had said to myself when the book came out that this time I wouldn't read reviews. Because whatever they say, they stick in your mind. Generally the less positive bits! But I couldn't help myself because I think, with these stories more than those in The White Road, I didn't always know myself what it was I was writing about, I had let go of that knowing, thanks to permission from others. And so I was curious to see what others think they are about.

I didn't think that these and other reviews would give me permission to keep doing this - and to take it further. But they do. Especially references to things I consider very odd, like leaving sentences unfinished. That's okay, says this review. And not only that, it actually means something.

Of course, there is the flipside to this, because there is no guarantee that every review will be favourable. I was delighted to be reviewed in the Times Literary Supplement, thrilled beyond belief, but the reviewer seemed to be telling me what my stories are not, and I wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

Right now, though, I am feeling very "permitted", these two reviewers have given me a great gift, an unexpected gift. I want to thank them, and everyone else who takes the time to read my book and share their thoughts. I don't take that for granted. I will never take that for granted. Thank you.