THE LITBLOG CO-OP

One of the other nominated titles

The book I submitted for consideration for the first round of the LBC's Read This ! selection was Christa Wolf's In the Flesh.

In hindsight I now have to laugh at some of the qualms I had about putting this book up. There was no question in my mind concerning the literary quality -- both the story that is related and (especially) the presentation of that story easily convinced me that this was a worthwhile text. Admittedly, it is not an easy or comfortable book, but at less than 130 pages I also didn't think it was too much of an imposition to make on the panel of LBC reader-judges either -- just in case it really wasn't to someone's liking. No, my concern was that I was choosing an author and a book for whom public awareness didn't need to be raised. Oh, sure, every author and book can use more attention and mentions, but the LBC provides the opportunity for raising a book out of obscurity, and the new Christa Wolf -- well, that hardly struck me as obscure.

Translated literature seems to have much greater difficulty meeting with any success than anything originally written in English, but Wolf has done quite well: In the Flesh lists a dozen other titles of hers that have been translated into English, and many of them are still in print. Previous works were published by major houses -- FSG and Doubleday among them -- and she's always been fairly widely reviewed (admittedly more likely in the NY Review of Books than your local hometown paper, but still). In the Flesh had a nice write-up in Harper's in January, and I was certain decent coverage would follow; until the current, foreign-literature-averse administration took over, The NY Times Book Review, for example, surely wouldn't have passed it by.

On the other hand: this particular book of Wolf's wasn't published by a major house; it came out at one of those remarkable keepers-of-the-flame, David R. Godine (and getting some attention for the fine work they're doing is already something). It probably wasn't going to make it into all your local bookstores (shockingly, I've yet to come across a copy at my local Barnes & Noble). It is translated fiction, which seems to be having an ever-harder time getting any attention. It hasn't exactly been widely reviewed. And, consulting what seems to be the ultimate barometer of literary success in our time: its Amazon-ranking is dismal: at 430,051 when I last checked it is the lowest-ranked of the five nominated titles -- though two others are in that same obviously-no-one-has-bought-a-copy-yet 400,000-range.

Wolf struck me as one of those few dozen international authors whose new work is made available pretty much as a matter of course in English and then is taken up and discussed by the literary establishment. Maybe not a truly popular author, but one I assumed my audience -- certainly at the Complete Review (and the Literary Saloon), but also, to a great extent (as far as I can tell) at the LBC -- didn't really need to be pushed towards. I'm fairly certain now I was wrong, in part because Wolf seems to have faded (or been pushed) from a once more prominent place. (Something to wonder about: why ? the fall of East Germany ? a superseded feminism ?)

So I am glad I overcame my concerns and did nominate In the Flesh, because it is an important book and, I think, a very good book, and I am certain it is deserving of that literary dialogue that an undertaking like the LBC appears to offer (and which has been so conspicuously absent elsewhere -- so far -- with respect to this book).

All this is a very roundabout way of getting to the meat of the matter, which is the book itself. In the Flesh describes a hospital stay: the narrator is seriously ill -- fighting for her life, in fact, though there is little she can do, reduced to a passive figure that is poked and prodded and treated. The setting is East Berlin, shortly before the fall of the Berlin Wall, and in her daze the narrator shifts between descriptions of what is happening to her -- the medical procedures, how she feels, what she (over)hears -- and memories from the past. Her own decrepit state mirrors that of the East German state, and it is in this use of illness as metaphor that the book is particularly impressive.

I usually don't like books in which the narrator is in some way dazed (drunk, drugged, dreaming, ill), and I'm not that big on autobiographical fiction (which this also is), but In the Flesh does both without annoying me. The narrator is word-person, the literary providing the last hold for her -- but words (including literary creation) can only do so much, especially when one has to face a stark reality such as the complete failure of one's body -- or nation. Wolf conveys those failures -- and her narrator's difficulty in dealing with them in any but a second-hand way, through words and literary re-imaginings -- expertly. Even in the closing scene the narrator can't simply give in to emotion but has to reference it -- a brilliant ending.

The writing is masterful -- coming across even in translation (by John S. Barrett). The shifting perspectives, her fading in and out of realities past and present, and the different story-threads make this a book that one might call 'difficult', but I think that one can simply go with the flow and enjoy it. Much of the story isn't pleasant -- the descriptions of her condition are certainly disturbing, and the pain and the sweating can get to be a bit much -- but it is still a compelling and fascinating story, on a number of levels, from her personal word-struggles to the picture of East Germany it offers to the stories of some of the other characters.

In the Flesh might not have quite the broad appeal of Case Histories: it's a darker, harder-hitting little book -- and probably not something for the beach.  But it is worthwhile; I hope some of you will have a look.

(You can get the book from Powells.com; see also the Godine publicity page and the CR-review page.)

A note from the editor...

I’ve been Kate Atkinson’s lucky American editor since 1996, when BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE MUSEUM was published.  Its first, Tristram Shandy-esque, line – “I exist!” – promised a novel filled with exuberance and surprise, and indeed that’s what Kate has continued to deliver across the span of three subsequent novels and a book of short stories.  I love her facility with language, her narrative gusto and her eye for detail, and I love her devotion to and practice of the ancient, occasionally overlooked art of storytelling.  As a reader and as an editor, I’m always happy to encounter a gorgeous sentence but I’m happier still to find a novel filled with them when they’re all in the service of that tricky taskmaster: Plot.  I admit it: much as I admire “The Waves,” the book I’ll take on vacation or on the subway is more likely to be “The Great Gatsby.”

That’s why I love CASE HISTORIES: its combination of agile, sharp-witted prose and an equally intelligent, entertaining story.  From its first sentences (Kate has a way with openings!) – “How lucky were they? A heat wave in the middle of the school holidays, exactly where it belonged.” – the book unfolds in a way that is, to me, irresistibly inviting.  It’s no mean feat to weave together three separate stories, not all concurrent, but she’s done it so nimbly, and linked them all so cleverly to the entirely winning Jackson Brodie, that the pace and suspense of the book never flag.

But, as I said in an earlier post when the debate began about whether or not this was exactly the right choice for the first “Read This!” recommendation, I’m hardly an impartial judge of the book’s merits – even if I weren’t its editor, I’m just an unabashed fan of Kate’s writing.  When CASE HISTORIES arrived on my desk, I knew it was a great book that could attract a lot of readers.  Our challenge in-house was to get it read early and convince the sales reps and bookstore buyers that it was an entirely different kettle of fish, sales-wise, from Kate’s previous book, a wonderful and adventurous story collection whose sales matched those of most wonderful and adventurous story collections.  Happily our marketing director fell in love early, and spread the word to her bookstore contacts, who began to respond similarly.  Eventually reviewers weighed in, enthusiastically, and then, at last, readers, so for the first time in Kate’s American publishing life, her book went into six hardcover printings.

So, no, CASE HISTORIES was not lurking shyly in the corner, waiting for someone to notice it – but I can tell you that despite all that good news and good fortune, it has not hit the New York Times bestseller list, and its sales, while certainly respectable, are not so stratospheric that the “Read This!” recommendation is the blog equivalent of sending coals to Newcastle.  I get the sense that some readers are disappointed enough in the book's success and its corporate publisher that they'll give it a miss on principle, and that old maternal stand-by comes to mind: don't cut off your nose to spite your face!  Borrow it from a friend, or the library -- I'm not interested in boosting our sales figures, only, like the estimable folks behind the LitBlog Co-Op, in sharing the rare satisfaction to be found in reading a great book. 

UPCOMING EVENTS

We've confirmed that Kate Atkinson will be dropping by here on June 7th to chat with our readers and talk about Case Histories.

Additionally, we're very pleased to have Reagan Arthur, Atkinson's editor at Little, Brown, joining us this Thursday, May 26th.    We're also working to schedule an appearance here next week by Atkinson's agent, Kimberly Witherspoon.

We are still working on The Minority Opinion - in which LBC members who didn't rate the choice has highly discuss their opinions - but we're holding it off for a bit longer as we finalize its contents.  We'll also reveal the other four books we considered starting next Monday.

In the interim, if you have questions you'd like to forward to any of our guests, please drop an email to the address at the left and PLEASE note in the subject line "Question for [Editor]/[Author]/[Agent]" as appropriate so it doesn't get lost.

My Case History

Before I begin, I must make a confession to my more on-top-of-things colleagues here at the LBC (and to the many readers of this site): I had not heard of Case Histories prior to its nomination. While I do not like to disparage my living space, there are days when it does indeed resemble a cave. This is important to mention because I believe I am the target audience of this book. Even more to the point, I polled approximately twenty voracious readers/friends on this title and drew only blank stares. Which is why I'm going to talk about the merits of this book, from my perspective.

Wow! It feels good to get that out in the open.

After reading Case Histories and then sitting back in my cave (or rather sunny backyard), I remain undecided on the nature of this novel. It is either a genre (crime/mystery) novel with literary aspirations or a literary novel with genre aspirations. Kate Atkinson hews closely to crime fiction conventions, right down to her hard-luck detective, but doesn't fully cross the line, as evidenced by her morally ambiguous ending. Whether or not justice is served is something she trusts her reader to decide.

Atkinson's story revolves around three crimes: a revered child disappears from her home, never to be found; a worshipped daughter is killed in a seemingly random moment, and the killer escapes in the ensuing panic; a young mother, unable to cope with her lack of daily structure, regains her much-needed control thanks to murderous violence. Each crime is connected, years after the fact, through Jackson Brodie, an investigator hired by the various survivors seeking closure.

Though Jackson's detective work bring some resolution to each story, motives and methods behind the crimes are revealed through shifting points of view. Each character offers a piece of information to the reader. Atkinson peels back the layers of each crime, allowing the us to become the detective. If there is a flaw in Atkinson's carefully constructed plot, it is that her adherence to her structure lessens the impact of the final surprise -- you feel it coming.

Like all outstanding genre fiction, the strength of this book is in the writing. It is a given that the crimes will be solved. Knowing the ending isn't sufficient reason to forego conversation with my husband -- it was the depth of the characters that had me picking up the book whenever he left the room for more than ten seconds. I wanted to see how they emerged from their numbness. I wanted to see how they saved themselves; Jackson Brodie wasn't going to do that for them. When Theo Wyre finally sees the truth of his mourning, I believed in his transformation. Granted, I didn't quite buy Amelia Land's emergence from her grief, but I think Atkinson's handling of this character left her with few choices. I can't decide if I'm just overly picky or if this was a writer who didn't know where to go next, especially given where she'd gone before.

Revelations about the various characters are slipped gracefully into the narrative. Facts emerge organically rather than as paint-by-numbers character traits. Through one line here, one thought there, you learn each character's truths. This makes certain information all the more unsettling, especially as the truth about the Land family is revealed. Truly fucked up people, if I may say so. Other revelations have an especially appealing slyness: Caroline, in ruminating about the sexual proclivities of the upper-class landed British in her sphere, reveals more about herself than she'd prefer.

While I believe that the structure and conventions of genre fiction are liberating (I talk more about the structure of this novel over at Booksquare because I find it fascinating from a writer's perspective; here, I want to focus on my reaction as a reader), I also derive great pleasure when an author smudges the edges of convention, sometimes to the point where lines are wholly obliterated. Had Atkinson chosen to make the mysteries more straightforward, the book would have been a really good read, but not compelling on the same level. Little things moved the story outside of its genre, like Jackson's decision to drop one case because he found his client's morals to be unacceptable.

If Kate Atkinson is a superstar in her own world, she's still a new-to-me (and now my friends) author. As my to-be-read stack(s) attest, keeping up with the Literary Joneses is a near impossibility. Far too many titles slip passed me -- this is why I'm especially happy that Case Histories surfaced*. It met my one major criteria for a great read: I wanted to devour and savor the words. At the same time. I am curious about the upcoming minority reports because I always wonder why something that works for me on so many levels doesn't for another reader. One would almost think we all have different taste.

* - I would be remiss if I neglected to mention that Case Histories is currently on sale at Powell's - 30% off.

Loss: A Case Study

Were it not for Lizzie nominating Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories for our inaugural LBC Read This! selection, I probably wouldn’t have picked up the book.  Without sounding elitist (I do my fair share of genre reading) the description of the novel as a literary detective story didn’t particularly entice me.  But once I sat down to read the book, I simply couldn’t put it down. 

The novel follows the seemingly unrelated case histories of three families: the Lands, whose fourth child Olivia disappears on a hot summer night; the Wyres, whose beloved daughter Laura is brutally murdered while working in her father's law office; and the Fletchers, whose new, post-baby life is so traumatic that it ends in a grisly murder.  Enter Jackson Brodie, private eye, divorced husband, doting father, and man-with-a-secret.

Atkinson's talent lies not in slowly revealing how these stories connect, or in solving the three mysteries, but in the way she observes her characters--they are by turns sympathetic and loathsome, foolish and witty, brave and terrified.  The chapters are told in the points of view of half a dozen people, but Atkinson's handling of the individual voices remains deft and convincing, and so the reader cares less about the whodunit than about what happens to the characters after tragedy strikes.  The loss that they experience is what the author is really after, and though it takes many shapes (a child, a sibling, a parent) it cannot be overcome by the simple provision of an answer to a mystery, even though that, too, is necessary.

I did, of course, have some reservations about the book.  For instance, the last third of the novel moves much too quickly, as though the author had gotten tired and was trying to get it over with.  (Next Monday's Minority Opinion will provide a more thorough overview of what LBC members didn't like about the book.)  But, overall, I thought Case Histories was delicately observed, beautifully written, and, above all, thoroughly engaging.  It's the kind of book that gets passed from reader to reader, which is why I think it makes for a great Read This! selection.   

Genre Fiction, or something more?

I freely admit that when CASE HISTORIES got the vote as our inaugural "Read This!" pick, I was overjoyed. This is a novel that's had a special place in my heart since I read it last November. As a crime fiction enthusiast, I marvelled at how Atkinson thoroughly understood the genre conventions and usual tropes while breaking the inherent constraints to do as she pleased. But unlike many a writer who decides, on a whim, to try his or her hand at "that mystery business," Atkinson never condescended, never looked down upon the form.

Which is only to be expected from someone who named Lee Child as one of her favorite crime writers, as she did in an interview she gave to Publishers Weekly last year.

But how did she accomplish something that has failed so many others "slumming"? To my mind, there are several reasons. First, she didn't try to reinvent the wheel. Jackson Brodie is an angst-ridden PI who has an unfortunate tendency to get himself knocked about by unknown assailants while letting his heart rule his head more often than not, and Atkinson cheerfully uses these tropes to best advantage, almost winking at them. Yes, she seems to say, I must make use of them, but I'm having so much fun as I do so.

Then there's the sheer talent displayed in her writing. The prose is crisp and clean, full of humor but at times utterly devastating. CASE HISTORIES is a detective story, but what it ultimately uncovers is the level of loss, grief and confusion that holds each character in a seemingly inescapable vise. And yet, Atkinson portrays such themes without pretension; instead she simply lets them develop naturally, almost deceptively so. Because obviously a lot of care and thought was put into each character, each story told, but it never feels anything but easy.

And ultimately that is what makes the book such a marvel, that it seems so easy, so readable. But it offers up so many hidden delights that make it accessible on so many levels. As a detective story, yes it works fine. But why enjoy it simply as such when there are many other ways to do so?

So You've Heard of Kate Atkinson Already?

Well, where were you eight years ago, when I wanted to talk to somebody about Human Croquet, huh?

Seriously, though, as I mentioned in the comment area yesterday (and, yeah, I'm cutting and pasting here), I'm the guy who's said "Read This!" could be interesting "because of the attention it can bring to current writers at a time when they may especially need it," but I'm also the guy who pointed out that it could be "a new forum to address books and authors that aren't getting noticed elsewhere. Or maybe they do get noticed, but not nearly enough."

I imagine any one of us who's even remotely plugged into the literary critical scene can name a writer or two who "everybody" knows is awesome yet doesn't necessarily see that reflected in his or her Bookscan tally. I'm thinking, for example, of authors like Steve Stern or James Wilcox. They get their fair share of reviews, and the fans they have are often quite passionate about their work, but for whatever reason they haven't had the breakout yet and, frankly, it never hurts to champion their cause just a little bit harder. As far as I'm concerned, Kate Atkinson falls into this category. (Note: I wasn't a nominator, just a voter, so even though I've been aware of her for awhile, I hadn't been keeping up with her work--though that will change--and didn't have any hand in getting the book on the shortlist.) I'm not the greatest person in the world when it comes to articulating what makes fiction work for me, so I'm going to let some of my colleagues handle that end of things over the next few days. All I'd say for now is that even if you think you know who Kate Atkinson is because you read a couple book reviews, and maybe you heard it was a detective story, or you found out she won a prize a decade ago, the best way to discover why we're (mostly) so enthusiastic about Case Histories is to do like we say and "read this!"

READ THIS! - CASE HISTORIES

The Litblog Co-op is very pleased to announce its inaugural Read This! Selection: Case Histories by Kate Atkinson.

In the weeks ahead, we're planning a variety of posts around this book, including appearances by Kate Atkinson, Reagan Arthur (the book's editor at Little, Brown) and others still to be announced. (See the post below for additional details.) But first, here's LBC nominator Lizzie Skurnick (The Old Hag) on why she nominated Case Histories:

My first instinct, when I picked up Case Histories, was to put it down immediately. Noting the muted, elegant cover, I decided it was one of those precious first novels where a woman lives on the edge of a lake, probably mourning a secret daughter who died under the ice or something. I noticed that another novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, had preceded it. Museum! Scenes! Straight to the bottom of the stack.

When it finally rose to the top, after I made a brief foray into the first few pages, it fared no better. Four young daughters... distant father. distracted mother... snooze. If I wanted to spend time with fanciful young girls tripping through the long green, I'd reread The Secret Garden.

But when I saw it mentioned on a trusted web site as an excellent read. I went back to it immediately. And, after the infinitesimally-slower-than-I'd-like first few pages, I launched into what remains, hands down, my favorite read of the year.

It seems impossible to believe that Kate Atkinson's sentences ever had an awkward stage. Each paragraph, each page, each chapter unfolds with perfect precision, the prose and pacing fully shaped. There's nothing flowery about the words, but no stripped-down drama either. Atkinson's a pro - a juicy pro.

The reader can also luxuriate happily in the plot. Now that I know her work, I'd be happy to read Atkinson ruminating on the benefits of fertilizer brands, but there's a distinct pleasure in watching someone handle what is essentially a stock murder mystery with expert literary precision. In short, while the plot could still hold up in the hands of a lesser author, and Atkinson's voice could carry a bloated text that went nowhere, thankfully, there's no need to choose.

People are undoubtedly going to question the nomination of a book that was reviewed in major publications and also received a fair amount of ad coverage. But the fact that that it was only its mention on a trusted web site that led me to commit speaks to the word-of-mouth power of getting anyone to stick it out on the page. I saw no ads, no reviews, until I'd read it. I don't think ads and reviews are really enough to sell a book anymore, unless the coverage approaches Sittenfeldian or Foerian proportions, at which point you have to read the book just to make sure you haven't already equaled its word count elsewhere.

Case Histories passed me by. I also dropped it twice, and I know I'm not the only one to kick something aside out of the pure fidgets. While the small press offering certainly has the harder row to hoe, great work from a behemoth can still fall through the cracks just because no actual person holds it up and says, Read this.

Now, on behalf of the Litblog Co-op, I'm going to pass along the favor, with a nod towards the person whose vote sent it to me. Say it with me:

Read This!

WHAT COMES NEXT

Over the course of the next week we will post a schedule for author and editor visits, as well as a moderator-led discussion. Additionally, next Monday May 23 we will post The Minority Opinion, in which LBC members who were less enthusiastic about the selection can weigh in. And then on the four subsequent Mondays we will share the titles of the other four books we considered, as described by the bloggers who nominated them.

Also, please note that Powells is offering a 30% discount on Case Histories - and no, LBC makes no money from this arrangement.

Finally, Lizzie's point bears repeating - although many will correctly observe that Case Histories was covered in the mainstream media, Kate Atkinson is scarcely a household name. Those of us who follow publishing can be guilty of a myopia that assumes that if we're aware of a book, everyone else must be as well. In reality, this is not always the case.  And for those who were aware of the book but passed it by, you now have a reason to consider revisiting it.

There's much fun, excitement and discussion planned ahead (the next five nominators are already looking ahead to Autumn) but for now we reiterate Lizzie's call:

READ THIS!

Judging a Book On 2% of Its Cover

For those looking for a hint before the fateful announcement of our first Read This! offering, here's a sliver of the book's cover: