Japan Writer’s Conference

Have just returned from a wildly busy weekend in Tokyo, where I attended the first ever Japan Writer’s Conference.  Will report in more detail soon.

Freaks Like Us

Yesterday the neighborhood kids came around in happi coats and hachimaki with the omikoshi (a palanquin carried on their shoulders).  There was some sort of event at the nearby shrine.  My mother-in-law handed me an envelope of money to give to the kids when they came around, before heading out somewhere with a friend.

Lilia, who is way into kimono and other Japanese-y things, was very excited about the o-mikoshi.  When we heard the kids at the compound next door, we hurried out to wait.  Lilia was in her wheelchair at the edge of the driveway, holding the envelope, and I was standing with her.  Jio wouldn’t come down.  He watched from a window upstairs. 

The kids stopped in front of our house.  Total silence.  Nary a smile.  Lilia tried to hand them the envelope, but they just stood there, hands at their sides, staring at us.  Finally, one girl reached out and took the money, and, without saying ”thank you”  - or anything else, for that matter, they went on to the next house.

I was ticked.  They could have at least said ”arigatou.”  We have lived in this neighborhood for over two years, and I’m sure that at least some of them have seen us around.  And I’m pretty sure that there is a native speaker of English visiting the local schools, so they shouldn’t be afraid of foreigners.  Maybe the kid in the wheelchair freaked them out.

It would be better for neighborhood relations, I know, if Lilia could go to public school.  And if Jio went to public school, he might be able to make friends with the kids around here.  But he might also be bullied because he is different, and his family is different.

Later that evening, I asked him why he stayed upstairs.  I thought it was because he was shy, or because he had a bad experience with the neighborhood kids.  (He actually tried to make friends with a boy a year older who lives two houses away when we first moved in, but their association ended abruptly.)  He said, “I saw from upstairs how they just stared at you and didn’t say anything.”  And then I realized - it wasn’t because of something that had happend to Jio; it was because of us - the blonde American mom, and the crippled sister.  Jio is better integrated than Lilia and me, and I sometimes take his comfort for granted.  I think he was embarrassed for us.

Lilia was nothing but happy.  She drew the scene in her picture diary. 

Win a Free Book!

For the first time ever here at Gaijin Mama, I’m offering you, dear readers, a chance to win something!  To wit, a copy of Joshua Henkin’s just-published novel Matrimony (see my musings on the book below).  All you gotta do is write to the author at jhenkin(at)slc(dot)edu and tell him why you should be the one to get the book.  Do you like the cover?  Tell him.  Do you have something to say about my review/marriage/Ann Arbor?  Let him know.  And please mention that you read about this contest on the Gaijin Mama blog.

We’ll have Henkin-san back later as Gaijin Mama’s first ever guest blogger to comment on responses and to choose a winner. 

Another Weird Coincidence

I recently volunteered to be one of three judges for a writing conference in South Carolina.  I just finished reading the big box ‘o stories and novel excerpts yesterday.  Having spent some time with writers in South Carolina, I wondered if there were any stories by people that I knew.  There were no names on the entries, however. 

I was riffling through the entries and I found one that looked familiar.  In fact, I remembered reading it before…nine years ago at a castle in the Netherlands.  It was the first chapter of a novel by a Canadian woman who was living in France.  This woman, Lise Leroux, already had a contract for her first novel, which she’d sold with only a synopsis to Penguin.  I later read the book, One Hand Clapping, and I thought it was brilliant.  She called it a ”contemporary fantasy,” and it involved, among other things, a woman who grew hands on her body after they were grafted onto her. 

I didn’t really think about this much before, but upon reading a review the other day in an online disability-related publication, I discovered that the woman in the story is autistic.  I wasn’t as invested in writing about disability when I first read it, but I intend to read the book again with this in mind.

In the meantime, I wish Lise the best of luck in finding a home for her second book.  (I withdrew from the judging of her story because I had preconceived notions about its greatness.) She is immensely talented and her first book was nominated for the Orange Prize.  Finding her entry in a box of submissions from South Carolina reminds me that I should take nothing for granted.  Getting one novel published does not guarantee that my next one will be.  Humbling, but true. 

Matrimony - MotherTalk Blog Tour

In the first chapter of Matrimony, Joshua Henkin’s sophomore effort, the main character, Julian Wainwright, sits in a creative writing class at a small, (very) liberal Eastern college.  The professor  lists the golden rules of writing on the blackboard, rules such as “THOU SHALT NOT USE THE WORD ‘KERPLUNK’ IN YOUR SHORT STORIES,’ and ‘THOU SHALT NEVER USE PASS-THE-SALT DIALOGUE.”  Another rule frequently issued by creative writing instructors (though not this one)  is “THOU SHALT NOT MAKE THE PROTAGONIST A WRITER.”  The reason for this has never been explained to me, but I’m guessing it’s because a) the act of sitting at a desk and writing is not interesting in and of itself and b) it can be difficult to work up sympathy for someone who shelled out several tens of thousands of dollars for an M.F.A. and then goes around whining because “the writing” isn’t going well. 

In fact, there were times when I was annoyed with the independently wealthy wanna-be writer Julian.  His wife, Mia, works hard, but at one point Julian gets peeved because she leaves the dishes in the sink.  He can’t get his writing done because he feels compelled to wash those dishes.  Interestingly, writing books and essays directed at women often advise them to forget about the housework.  “Hey, Julian!” I wanted to say.  “Why don’t you try writing a novel while taking care of twin toddlers?”  But maybe I’m just jealous.  Julian manages to publish a couple of stories in the very prestigious Harper’s Magazine even before he enters the very prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop. 

However, I actually enjoy reading about the lives of writers, and I’m glad that Henkin chose to ignore that writing dictum about author characters. I enjoyed reading about Julian’s struggles as a writer.  But this isn’t just a story about writing; it’s also a novel about friendship and marriage and family.  Henkin tracks the lives of Julian, his best friend Carter, whom he meets in the creative writing class, and Mia, whom he meets and falls in love with in the laundry room at college.

The charismatic Carter is a talented writer from California, but he is more interested in acquiring money than in becoming an author.   I kept expecting him to become a larger than life character like Gatsby, but Henkin is more subtle than that.  Although Carter ultimately makes a lot of money, he remains real.

Julian, meanwhile, pursues his dream of publication on various college campuses, such as the Univeristy of Michigan in Ann Arbor (go, blue!) and  the Iowa Writer’s Workshop.  While an M.F.A. student, Julian muses, “There had emerged  in American fiction a strain of excess…a group of knowing authors whose every sentence seemed to shout, ‘Look how smart I am.’  He had nothing against muscular prose; it was the flexing of those muscles that he objected to, and, along with it, a disregard for character, which for him, was what fiction was all about.”

This could just as easily refer to the novel at hand.  As the cover, with its his and her toothbrushes, implies, Matrimony concentrates on the ordinary details of married life, such as - yes -  whose turn it is to do the dishes.  And even when dealing with major life issues such as the death of a parent, infidelity, and infertility, Henkin keeps the volume turned down low. 

Through such restraint, Henkin creates characters that are flawed, human, and utterly believable.  I found myself caring deeply about what happened to them, and I was reminded that even the most ordinary of lives is rich with complexity.

This novel has been selected as a Booksense pick and for Borders Original Voices. 

  

Galleys!

The galleys of my first novel, Losing Kei, have arrived.  These are the pre-publication copies of the book that are being sent to potential reviewers.  I loved the cover before, but I love it even more because I think that the child facing the camera is deaf. 

My daughter’s tutor was examining the badge on the child’s uniform and made out the letters for “rougakko,” which means, “deaf school.”  I showed it to a couple of other people, and they confirmed it.  And the more I look at it, the more I think it looks like “rougakko.” 

The child in my story isn’t deaf, but I have a deaf child, so this secret detail gives the cover a special meaning for me. 

Lilia’s New Friend

A new development at school:  Y.-kun, who is autistic and deaf,  has suddenly become interested in Lilia.  This is kind of exciting because, according to his mother, for the most part, Y.-kun isn’t interested in people or other living things.  Once, we were talking about animal therapy, and I wondered if she’d ever considered having him swim with dolphins or whatever.  She said that he wasn’t interested in animals, that he was only interested in animated characters.

For about a year, he was drawn to me, for whatever reason, and would often run up to me and hug me.  But when he became a first grader, and his classroom and school building changed, he no longer approached me.

A couple of weeks ago, he learned how to say, “Lilia.”  It’s kind of like “Ee-ee-a,” which is how she pronounces it herself.  At any rate, he now says it all the time!  And he’s been approaching her.   

Lilia is kind of freaked out about it, but I think it’s sweet.  He came running after us as we drove away after school.