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Aug 18, 2007

Triangle: 96 Years Later

I happened to be in Greenwich Village last night, and I thought to stop by Washington Place, just half a block from the beautiful Washington Square Park, where the fire described in Katharine Weber's Triangle took place. It's hard to imagine that there were ever sweatshop factories on this block, just steps from Henry James' elegant social swirl. I took a couple of pictures. Here's what the sidewalk looks like on Friday night, August 17, 2007, 96 years later.

But why end the LBC's Triangle week on such a despondent note as this? Instead, I'd like to thank everybody who participated in our celebration of this book, I'd like to thank Katharine for dropping by, and now let's swing over to Gwenda's place to find out Katharine Weber's favorite curse word and other interesting facts. Next up on LBC blog: Jamestown by Matthew Sharpe.

Aug 16, 2007

Patterns ...

Booksquare has invited Katharine Weber to talk about her body of work and the patterns within.  She also reveals a bit about her ongoing experience of writing fiction:

I have learned from reflecting back on my own texts in these ways, because now that I see those connections I can set about making such connections within the stories. To see how everything connects to everything else – that’s challenging. Sometimes it’s called being psychotic. Sometimes it’s where the work gets richer and stranger. Seeing connections like this has helped me learn to trust my own strangeness.

Aug 15, 2007

Five Books of Disaster and Woe

Here's something different: on the About Last Night blog, Katharine Weber describes her Top Five Tales of Disaster and Woe!

Aug 13, 2007

Talking Triangles with Katharine Weber

As promised, the LitKicks Interview with Katharine Weber We chat about history, gender, DNA, triangles, what September 11 has to do with it, what George Gershwin has to do with it, and what Ms. Weber has got in store for us with her next novel.

Katharine's guest post coming soon.

Aug 12, 2007

Triangle Week: The Tailor's Face and Hands

Welcome to a week-long appreciation of Triangle by Katharine Weber, a LitBlog Coop Summer 2007 Read This! Nominee.  We'll have interviews, podcasts, quizzes, mash books and a guest appearance by Katharine Weber herself.  I'm not sure what she'll have to say, but I do believe she'll be happy to answer questions when she shows up later this week.

One popular misconception of Triangle is that it is a straightforward chronicle of a famous American disaster, whereas actually the Triangle fire which killed over a hundred working women in 1911 is only the springboard here for a highly unpredictable journey of the imagination courtesy of a sly and skilled novelist.  With that in mind, though, I'd like to begin this week with a look at a very well-designed and informative website about the Triangle fire maintained at Cornell University.

As I wrote earlier on this blog, I share with Katharine Weber a Queens, New York (Forest Hills, even) heritage, and my ancestors, like Katharine's, worked in the garment industry in exactly the capacity described by the fictional Esther Gottesfeld in Triangle

I don't know if poet Robert Pinsky's ancestors also worked in the old garment industry in New York City, but it's worth mentioning that his moving poem Shirt appears as the overture to the novel Triangle. If Pinsky's poem hadn't been available, Katharine Weber might also have chosen a song lyric by yet another Forest Hills native, Paul Simon's Fakin' It.  "I am the tailor's face and hands ..." This song wasn't about the Triangle fire, but it might have been about Katharine Weber's book, and the song's other lyrics echo some of the other book's themes as well.  So, let's begin LBC Triangle week with a singalong of this Simon and Garfunkel tune.

Fakin' It

by Paul Simon

If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.

I'm such a dubious soul,
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Pickin' up the punch lines,
I've just been fakin' it,
Not really makin' it.

Is there any danger?
No, no, not really, just lean on me.
Take the time to treat your friendly neighbors honestly.
I've just been fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it
I still haven't shaken it.

Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor.
("Good morning, Mr. Leitch.
Have you had a busy day?")
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands
and I know I'm fakin' it
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it
I still haven't shaken it

Triangle also reminds me of a famous statue of a tailor working a sewing machine which you can find on 7th Avenue in Manhattan's fashion district.  The expression on this man's face says a lot.  There is no statue of a young female factory worker on the spot in Greenwich Village right near Washington Square Park where the Triangle fire took place, though, and I think there should be one.

Please check back later today for an interview with Katharine Weber, and later this week for more activity from other LBC members.

Aug 01, 2007

Triangle by Katharine Weber

Katharine Weber's novel Triangle, the third of the Litblog Coop Summer 2007 nominees, opens with a fictional account of the terrible Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 from an 106-year-old survivor named Esther Gottesfeld:

This is what happened.  I was working at my machine, with only a few minutes left before the end of the day, I remember so clearly I can still see it, that I had only two right sleeves remaining in my pile -- my sister Pauline, she did the left sleeves and I did the right sleeves and between us we could finish sometimes as many as twenty-four shirtwaists in an hour, three hundred shirtwaists on a good day, if the machines didn't break down, and if nobody put a needle through her finger, which happened all the time and the biggest problem then was you didn't want to bleed on the goods but you didn't want to stop work so you took a piece of scrap and you wrapped your finger tight and you kept working -- my sister was a little faster than I was and sometimes her finished pile would be high because she did her sleeve first and then I would taker from her pile to do the right sleeve but I have to say my seams were the ones always perfectly straight.

Esther Gottesfeld will eventually get to the part where the fire blasts through the crowded floors and kills over a hundred young women, but nobody talks exactly straight in this sly and multi-dimensional fable about New York City natives groping for elusive truths.  After we meet Esther we meet her likable, sensible granddaughter Rebecca Gottesfeld and her oddly talented husband George Botkin, of whom we are told:

George's compositions in recent years were built around his invention of a simple amino-acid musical scale with which any DNA could be expressed musically.

There's also a comic foil (doesn't every novel need one?), an annoying academic feminist named Ruth Zion who is writing a book about the Triangle fire and approaches Rebecca with a theory that Esther Gottesfeld has been fabricating parts of her story.  She pesters Rebecca for access to her grandmother's archives, completely oblivious to Rebecca's own feelings about the history in question:

"My little book, as you put it, is eight hundred and twelve manuscript pages, and that is without the footnotes, acknowledgements, dedication, epigraph or index.  Clearly you are very upset by your loss.  I misjudged the timing for my condolence call to you, for which I apologize.  You are in an understandably sensitive mood.  I can hear that."

"Calling up a stranger to tell her you think her beloved grandmother who has just died was some kind of liar, and now you're planning to stir the shit, is that your idea of a condolence call?"

"I will take that as a rhetorical question, just as I will overlook your unfortunate use of vulgar language, because I recognize that you are becoming very emotional, regrettably, owing to your grief.  I am still planning on including you in my acknowledgements."

These characters intersect and collide, and while I don't want to give too much away I will say that this book, like Paul Auster's City of Glass, manages to create a heightened sense of identity dislocation that lingers long after the book is finished. It's also a bracing and funny read, alive with the accents and attitudes of post 9/11 New York City, and it also stands as a memory of an important phase in the history of the vast community of Eastern European Jewish immigrants to America.  Katharine Weber's own grandmother worked at the Triangle factory, and in fact most New York Jews can trace their heritage back to the garment business of over a hundred years ago (my own paternal grandmother also worked in a garment factory, my paternal grandfather was a tailor, my maternal grandmother worked in a shoe factory, and my maternal grandmother sold clothes on Madison Avenue).  But though this book begins as an ethnic tragicomedy of manners, it ends as something far more universal: a study of mankind's surprising ability to construct false truths on a monumental scale. 

August 13-17 will be Triangle week here at the Litblog Co-op!  We'll have podcasts, interviews, guest blogging and more.  Please come by and join in on the discussion!