Search results matching tag 'Erik Larson'

Please don't send in the clowns

Linda Sappenfield — Tue, 31 May 2011 21:06:00 GMT

The Big Top reigns as a big draw. With Water for Elephants filling theater seats, more great circus-themed entertainment awaits: Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus, due out in September. Of all the "forthcomings" promoted at Book Expo America 2011, it's generating the most buzz. Despite my aversion to clowns, I can't wait to read it.

Of course, the arena of tightropes and trapezes is celebrated for risky activities, but BEA can furnish its own glimpses of dicey ventures.

Authorship is certainly one. My last illusions of a secluded, create-on-your-own-terms lifestyle faded with the realization that even celebrated authors have to shift their personal lives around promotional commitments like BEA. They're asked to sign autographs and meet fans on cue, possibly during the very times when ideas are flowing and significant productivity could occur were they allowed to work at will.

This reflection led me astray at one point. Generally, my conversational gambit during an author signing is a version of "Lovely to see you. Thanks for coming!" Lacking in originality, it's at least totally sincere. I relied on that theme when face-to-face with David Baldacci, Susan Mallery, Alice Hoffman, Jan Brett, and other gracious writers.

Yet, upon meeting Erik Larson and awaiting my copy of In the Garden of Beasts, I somehow inquired what project he would be writing on if he weren't at BEA. Patiently looking up from his inscription, Mr. Larsen remarked that he would likely be at home, wishing that he had his next concept--which he doesn't yet. Hmmm, poor choice of topic. Small talk poses risks, and not just at BEA. During Margaret Atwood's often-hilarious reflections on her career, she reported this gem from an audience Q&A session. "Is your hair really like that, or do you have it done?" (Her answer: "If I had it done, do you honestly think I would ask for this?")

Finally, let's not forget the exciting but treacherous possibilities underlying so many conversations at BEA this year. E-books: Will they kill the print market, revitalize both reading and marketing, or do something else we can't yet predict? Can we hope to enjoy a fruitful coexistence of digital and analog publishing?

Maybe this is a sign: The evening before BEA, my daughter and I waited for an hour to view the wonderful Alexander McQueen Savage Beauty exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Our group encountered a provocative frock coat entitled Jack the Ripper Stalks His Victims, "lined in white silk with encapsulated human hair". Further back in the line I heard a dismayed "and how are we supposed to see inside the jacket?!"

The tourist in me reflected that he was musing aloud, not addressing me; thus a response might not be appropriate. Too late, though--the librarian in me was already informing him that the online exhibit included a detail shot of that very feature. Not only was the commenter pleased and appreciative, I could hear the tip being passed down the line, punctuated now and then by "Cool!", "No way!", and "Thanks for the info!"

Old-fashioned word of mouth and websites complement each other nicely in the information world. Let's hope that print books and e-books can, as well.

Our stormy relationship: it's over

Linda Sappenfield — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 00:27:00 GMT

We knew it couldn't last. A library and its community-wide reading choice eventually have to part ways. Isaac's Storm: a Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History is a thing of the past. I'm on the Round Rock Reads! committee and will admit that we have a roving eye; we'll soon be seeking a relationship with another exceptional book.

But this was fun while it lasted. Last night's final Isaac's Storm program was a hit with the audience, which numbered over sixty. KEYE meteorologist Troy Kimmel's appearance highlighted the evening, and just about everyone stayed on to view the History Channel documentary Great Disasters: Galveston Hurricane 1900: Isaac's Storm.

I was intrigued (not to mention entertained) by Mr. Kimmel's overview of some milestones in storm forecasting, along with user-friendly explanations of key hurricane concepts, e.g., "storm surge". I also appreciated his sharing passages from an account of the Galveston hurricane; it was published shortly after the disaster.

The audience proved to be worthy company, as well, and not just because they shared my preferences for film-watching treats: popcorn and ice cream. Some obviously well-read attendees asked insightful questions that were expertly fielded by our Meteorologist for the Evening.

Yes, the program was great, and so was the book. And we have more than memories to document the fourth annual Round Rock Reads!. The 1900 Storm Photo Exhibit on loan from the Galveston County Historical Museum continues on display in the library for the entire month of January. Also, the Round Rock Reads! Nominees Book Club will be discussing Nick Arvin's Articles of War in February and W.P. Kinsella's Shoeless Joe (inspiration for the movie Field of Dreams) in March.

So--no regrets on the library's part. We'll find another book to love. Do you have suggestions? Why not send us a comment?

Galveston, Texas: September 8, 1900: Over 6,000 men, women, and children dead

Rebecca Schreiner — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 17:53:00 GMT

"A rocking horse stood by itself on a low rise, no house in sight. 'And so help me,' Sterret said, 'I would have rather seen all the vessels of the earth stranded high and dry than to have seen this child's toy standing right out on the prairie, masterless.'"

A reporter's reaction to the devastation he saw from a train approaching Galveston right after the 1900 Great Hurricane. Quoted in Erik Larson's Isaac's Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History, [page 226-227], this year's Round Rock Reads winner.

What storm could be so important that it could forever alter the course of Texas history and commercial trade in the nation? Enter the hurricane of 1900, an unnamed storm that roared out of the Gulf of Mexico, wiped out a city, killed 6,000 men, women and children and remains the single greatest natural disaster in American history. This is the subject of Erik Larson's terrifying account of the massive hurricane that targeted the City of Galveston on September 8, 1900.

Weather forecasting at the turn of the century was in its infancy but scientists were arrogant in their firm belief that they understood the formation and paths of hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico. Isaac Cline, Galveston's forecaster, witnessed with his own eyes the bizarre and ominous weather that hung over the city before the storm, but, like a good bureaucrat, followed orders from his superiors in Washington D.C. to not warn city residents. Sacrificing his own wife and children, he and his brother, Joseph, clung to Isaac's house at the height of the storm's vertical winds and rain. "'Evacuate,' Joseph urged. 'Stay,' Isaac said." [Pg. 191]. Through the actual telegrams, letters, and reports sent by Isaac Cline to the nation's weather bureau, and the testimony from survivors, Larson vividly describes the devastation wreaked on the city that caused so much human suffering and death.

Book lovers will be riveted by this vivid, dramatic description of nature's fury and are encouraged to discuss the book and its subject matter via this blog. Click on the library's website and the image of the book cover at http://www.roundrocktexas.gov/library for further reading, historical images of the horrific aftermath of the storm and the History Channel's program dedicated to the deadliest hurricane in history.