Commentary

Aging

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There is an essay on the Electric Literature website about how one writer confronted her aging process; it in titled ‘Mirrors Tell the Truth but Not the Whole Story’, and it’s written by Stephanie Gangi.

Stephanie Gangi is a poet, novelist, short story writer and essayist living and writing in New York City. Her debut novel, The Next, was published by St. Martin’s Press and her second, Carry the Dog, from Algonquin Books in November 2021 and has garnered early praise. Gangi’s work has appeared in, among others, Arts & Letters, Catapult, LitHub, Hippocrates Poetry Anthology, McSweeney’s, New Ohio Review, Next Tribe, and The Woolfer. She’s working on her third novel, The Good Provider.

Stephanie Gangi

“Years ago I wrote a poem, “Mirror Window.” The gist of it was that I kept mixing up the words, mirror and window; I said one when I meant the other. It was alarming, I was not yet forty, too young to lose language. My daughters noticed and teased me about being old, as daughters will, and I wrote about that, kind of a circle of life thing.

I’ve gone back and read the poem and it’s not bad, but like all my writing at the time and from years before, from my teens, I filed it away and distracted myself with being young: sex-and-drugs-and-rock-and-roll, i.e., men, and then marriage and a shiny, happy family in a house on a hill. I have conflicted feelings about this. On the one hand, I was distracted from writing by love, lucky me; on the other, love was conditional or finite, humans being human, especially me. The writing was a constant, but me as a writer was something—someone—I could not see. I thought of it as a hobby.

In my late 40s, I tried “Mirror Window” again. This time it took the form of an essay, which came about because I was in possession of a large, antique mirror that I didn’t like but couldn’t get rid of. Let me go back.

I got the mirror when my mother died a decade earlier, not just my mother but my father too, he in March and Ma in June, both suddenly, neither yet seventy or sick. I was thirty-seven years old, an only child, or an adult only child, and a mother myself, in a complicated marriage. I was left with a split level to sell in the dead middle of Long Island. The contents were all mine, down to the coffee cup in the sink with Cherries in the Snow lipstick left on its rim. Consequently, the objects and furnishings and jewelry held—hold— outsized sentimental value.

Time passed, the parameters shifted. Love was indeed finite. My marriage ended and my little family reconstituted itself. We moved, with the mirror, to where we fit better with one less of us. That’s when I decided to paint its frame, give it a new look for my new life. I laid it out on a tiny patch of city yard on a sunny day, and in the course of sanding it down, I was on my hands and knees hovering over my reflection, focused on the task, not noticing myself. And then I did, and I saw how I’d look if I were on top of someone. How I looked during sex was on my mind at the time—I was a divorcée, it was still called that—because I was having a lusty adventure with a man seventeen years my junior. I was on top regularly.

The vantage point over my reflection showed my hair hanging in lank curtains on either side of my face, red with exertion. Gravity plus the sanding effort yielded sagging and swaying. The word “jowls” made itself manifest. I’d never looked my age before, but kneeling over this mirror, I sure did.

The distracting fling with this guy had turned into foolish fantasies about a life together. Once during pillow-talk, we did that thing of revealing something each had never told anyone else. My dark secret: Botox. We both reveled in our age difference but the truth was, I’d been trying to hide it. His dark secret? He admitted that he would stay a relationship’s course until someone new came along to provide him with a reason to leave. I knew this was true. It was the case with us; I had recently been the new one. “Mirror Window” was an essay about heartbreak. Once again, I filed my work away.

It turned out there was more to it than heartbreak. It turned out that refinishing the mirror gave me a window into a future with him I could not countenance, in both senses of the word—countenance like face and countenance like support. The truth is even if I had not sagged over the mirror that day, I was already worried about being where I am now, here in my sixties with a younger man who’d all but warned me he’d be watching for the exit. People do tell you who they are, and you should believe them, and he did, and I did.

So I reframed. My longest, truest commitment, to writing, was never a hobby. It is what I do and who I am. First novel at 60, forthcoming novel at 65, third in the works. Now and then the hot chill of regret passes through me. I should have started sooner. I should have been less high, less young, less seductive and less seduced, less distracted. Well, wait. That’s not right. I was full of life and love, and sorrow, joy, and disappointment—the open heart. Regret is beside the point. I know there’s no grace in that.

Let me keep going.

I am still new at being me, the writer. I have so many ideas that I cast around too long before I settle on something. A writer friend advised, “Just write about what you always think about.” Mirrors and windows. It’s not a sophisticated metaphor, but it is simple, it is effective. In my work, my women think a lot about how to age gracefully even as they learn to recognize themselves in their new old faces. They stare into their bathroom mirrors and wonder what to do about the jowls even when they are nobody’s lover, let alone on top. They too are startled when they catch an unexpected reflection in a shop window.

Two crazy things happened recently on the same locked-down day. I went through my apartment in a pandemic-fueled mission to spruce things up. I decided to repaint the frame on my mother’s mirror again, it’d been a long time, and I wanted it to match a smaller mirror that I bought at a yard sale in Montauk thirty years ago, with an infant in my arms and a toddler hanging from my legs. I was inspecting this smaller mirror and I was surprised. Oh. It’s a window frame. A window frame, fitted with mirrored squares instead of clear glass. I’d had it for so long I didn’t register it anymore, even though I passed it several times a day. I actually own a mirror window.

Not an hour later, I picked up a package containing the manuscript of my new novel—about distorted memory, accepting who you once were, and recognizing who you are now—from my editor. I poured some red wine and sat down, thrilled and grateful to see his old-school, handwritten edits on manuscript pages. On page 178, there was a strong delete mark through the word “window,” and his caret and note indicating it should be replaced with the word “mirror.” I’d done it again.

Mirror window. It wasn’t a mix-up, I hadn’t lost language. I was telling myself something I couldn’t hear yet. I was showing myself something I didn’t see yet. It’s like the two words were saying, and kept saying, Look inside, look outside, write it down, make it your life.

My daughters are now old enough to tease each other about getting old; I’ve aged out of the joke but I’ve revised the old poem, newly titled “Last Laugh,” wherein I give myself the final word, a circle of life kind of thing. I revised the saggy-jowls essay, and this is how it’s ended up:  published, not filed away. I’m tunneling into the third novel, and in an opening scene my protagonist is holding a chaotic yard sale, everything must go, including her dead mother’s furniture, including a window frame fitted with mirrors for panes, just like mine.”

Why I Love Dirty Children’s Books

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There is an article with this title by Daniel Donahoo on the Wired website. It’s dated 14 February 2013, but it is quite timely.

Daniel Donahoo is the Director of Project Synthesis, an ideas consultancy whose work is driven by play, technology and narrative.

Daniel is the author of children, family, media and technology “Idolising Children” and co-author of “Adproofing Your Kids”. He has supported a number of services across Australia with the planning and implementation of technology in play-based environments,  he has advised on national projects on incorporating play-based approaches into digital learning resources and reviews and writes about technology for Wired, Huffington Post and New Media Consortium.

He says: “BOOKS ARE ARTIFACTS. We hold them close, we sort them on shelves, we lend them out and wonder when they will return. In these digital times the value of the book as a treasured item is only increasing. Books have a scent, a feel and a connection that some place well above the stories they may read on their Kindle.

However, I’m teaching my kids that books are far more important than to be given the status of artifact. My favorite books are dirty children’s books.

While illustrated children’s book have long history of being even more special artifacts than most others, a children’s book in beautiful condition, with clean crisp pages in near-mint condition is a sad and troubling thing. Children’s books should belong to and be treasured by children, and if that is the case they should look like they have been handled and read and looked at by children.

Our house is currently littered with books. They can be found behind the cushions on the sofa, on the floor in the kitchen, under the washing machine and occasionally on bookshelves. Most of these belong to my 20-month-old son, and he loves to flick through the pages of any book and identify everything with wheels as a “brum.”

We read to him. His older brothers read to him. And he “reads” himself. Consequently, all of his books are dirty children’s books. They are frayed at the edges, some pages are ripped, others have splashes of breakfast cereal or smudges from butter and toast. These books have gorgeous pictures and wonderful stories, but what good would they be if we kept them all well ordered and alphabetized on a shelf, only to bring them out on the occasion of bedtime for a story before sleep?

Books are something we should treasure and care for. We should fold over the edges to keep our place, we should let them live in the bottom of our bags or in the dirt while we are on camping trips. Our books should reflect the lives we lead — messy and uncertain, but well lived and loved.

We should teach our children to love books in this way, and deal with the little bit of damage that comes with it. Books are not made of glass. You can dry pages with a hairdryer, and stick ripped pages back together. You can construct a new spine from cardboard and even write a new ending on some new paper and slot that in at the end if those pages have been lost.

I love dirty children’s books. Covered in dust and grime and the things you find on children’s fingers. I love the stories and the pictures the fact that every fingerprint is a page turned, a new word learned, a narrative pursued.

Keeping reading with your children. Always.”

Is Listening to Audio Books Really Reading?

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Easy Listening posted this question on the Wired website:

“I listen to a lot of books on audio. It works for me. But certain more literary friends of mine say it doesn’t quite count as reading. Part of me wants to read more, but I find it much easier to listen. What do you think? Should I care?”

Megan O’Gieblyn posted this scholarly answer:

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in what your “literary” friends say; they sound like bores. When it comes down to it, people who think about reading in terms of what “counts”—those who piously log their daily reading metrics and tally up the titles they’ve consumed on Goodreads—don’t seem to actually enjoy books all that much. Their moralistic gloom is evident in the extent to which reading has come to resemble exercise, with readers tracking their word-count metrics, trying to improve their speed, and joining clubs to keep them accountable.

“While some disciples of this culture are quick to dismiss audiobooks as a shortcut, they cannot seem to agree on why, exactly, listening is an inferior form of engagement. Some cite studies that have shown people who listen to books retain less than those who read them, which is bound up with how tempting it is to do other things while listening. (As easy as it is to multitask with audiobooks, the form does make it harder to return, after a spell of distraction, to the passage where your mind started to wander.) Others insist that audiobooks eliminate the reader’s responsibility to interpret things like irony, tone, and inflection, given that the person recording does the work of conveying emotion. According to this rather tenuous logic, listening to audiobooks is inferior precisely because it is easier—because it lacks the element of suffering that is incontrovertible evidence of accomplishment, the same way soreness is proof of a real workout.

“The larger problem, however, is in viewing books as a means to some other end. Many people who aspire to read more are motivated by the promise that doing so will prevent cognitive decline, improve brain connectivity, or increase emotional intelligence. Even the obsession with retention assumes that the purpose of reading is to absorb knowledge or nuggets of trivia that one can use to demonstrate cultural literacy or being “well read.” What all of this obscures is the possibility that books might be a source of intrinsic pleasure, an end in themselves. I’d be willing to bet, Easy Listening, that your earliest experiences with the joy of literature were aural. Most of us were read to by adults before we learned to read ourselves, and listening to audiobooks recalls the distinctive delight of being told a story: the rhythms of the prose made incarnate in a human voice; the dialog animated through the performance of a skillful reader; the ease with which our eyes, liberated from the page, are free to roam around the bedroom (or the aerobics room, or the landscape beyond the car windshield) so as to better imagine the actions of the narrative playing out.

“Oral storytelling predates writing by millennia, and many of the oldest stories in our literary canon existed for centuries as bardic tales before they were put down in print. The Homeric epics likely originated with bards who told them around fires and improvised their central plot points, which were passed down and adapted from one generation to the next. Evolutionary biologists have all sorts of conjectures about the utilitarian function of these rituals—storytelling may have emerged to deepen community bonds or model unfamiliar situations in ways that might have increased chances of survival—but I doubt that members of these cultures were consciously thinking, as so many readers are today, about how narrative exposure might boost their short-term memory or sharpen their capacity for empathy. Rather, they listened to stories because they were, quite simply, transfixed by their power.

“These early stories were largely composed in verse, at a time when poetry, music, and storytelling were often so intertwined as to be indistinguishable. And I suspect that audiobook fans are at least partly drawn to listening because it’s easier to discern the melodic qualities of prose, which often get lost when we quickly scan a page of text without actually hearing the words in our heads. There is some evidence that listening, as opposed to reading, engages the right hemisphere of the brain, which is more closely associated with music, poetry, and spirituality. This might explain why some religious texts are designed to be read aloud. The scholar Karen Armstrong recently pointed out that the term qur’ān means “recitation” and that the scripture’s many repetitions and variations take on their full effect only when they are voiced by a gifted reciter who can, as she put it, “help people to slow down their mental processes and enter a different mode of consciousness.”

“If you’re like most people I know, you probably find it difficult to recall the last time a book—regardless of how you consumed it—succeeded in altering your consciousness. Even your desire to “read more” contains a whiff of compulsion, suggesting that many books you’ve encountered have failed to live up to their transcendent potential. Anxieties about post-literacy tend to focus obsessively on the question of medium, and audiobooks are often hailed as one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, alongside social media, visual entertainment, and the decline in attention spans. But it seems to me that there exists a more obvious explanation for why reading often feels so dull: Most books are very bad. The vast majority of them are uninspired, unconvincing, and poorly written. This has always been the case (surely there were some flops even among those bardic epics of yore), though it’s a truth that grows more elusive when we are led to believe that reading is not supposed to be enjoyable. When a culture falls prey to an obsession with “reading challenges” and daily word count goals, it is all too easy to become inured to the shoddiness of the texts we’ve chosen and more difficult to object to the offensive quality of many of the books on offer.

“My advice, Easy, is to be less discriminating about the medium and more choosy about the books you pick up. If you find that your mind is wandering or that you’re not able to fully enter into the reality of the narrative, consider that this might be a problem with the content, not the mechanism through which you are experiencing it. Audiobooks have some distinct advantages when it comes to this kind of discernment. It’s easier to identify a tin-eared writer when the book is read aloud. And the liberation from the physical discomforts of reading—neck pain, eye strain—makes it harder to blame one’s growing annoyance with a text on environmental factors, an excuse that leads so many readers to stick with bad books longer than they should. Most of all, though, I would urge you to trust your instincts—to “listen,” as it were, to the critic within who instinctively knows what is worth your time and who will rarely lead you astray.”

Book Banners are Banned

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The Guardian has an article by Maya Yang dated 9 June 2024 on its website which suggests that the tide is turning against book banners in the US. The federal cavalry has arrived in Texas.

“After a case spurred by complaints on books containing the words “butt” and “fart” as well as touching on the topics of racism and LGBTQ+ identity, an appellate court has ruled that Texas cannot ban books from libraries simply because officials “dislike the idea contained in those books”.

The fifth US circuit court of appeals issued its decision on Thursday in a 76-page majority opinion, which was written by Judge Jacques Wiener Jr and opened with a quote from American poet Walt Whitman: “The dirtiest book in all the world is the expurgated book.”

In its decision, the appellate court declared that “government actors may not remove books from a public library with the intent to deprive patrons of access to ideas with which they disagree”.

It added: “This court has declared that officials may not ‘remove books from school library shelves simply because they dislike the idea contained in those books and seek by their removal to prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion or other matters of opinion’.”

The appellate court’s latest decision follows a federal lawsuit filed in 2022 by seven Llano county residents against county and library officials for restricting and removing books from its public circulation.

The residents argued that the defendants violated their constitutional right to “access information and ideas” by removing 17 books based on their content and messages.

Those books include seven “butt and fart” books with titles including I Broke My Butt! and Larry the Farting Leprechaun, four young adult books on sexuality, gender identity and dysphoria – including Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen – and two books on the history of racism in the US, among them Caste and They Called Themselves the KKK.

Other books targeted by the ban were In the Night Kitchen, which contains cartoons of a naked child, as well as It’s Perfectly Normal: Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex and Sexual Health, according to court documents.

The books were removed after parents complained, with library officials referring to the books as “pornographic filth”.

In its majority decision, the overwhelmingly conservative appellate court ordered eight of the 17 books to be returned, including Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen, Caste and They Called Themselves the KKK.

Wiener wrote how a dissenting opinion from the Donald Trump appointee Kyle Duncan “accuses us of becoming the ‘Library Police’, citing a story by author Stephen King”.

“But King, a well-known free speech activist, would surely be horrified to see how his words are being twisted in service of censorship,” wrote Wiener, who was appointed during George HW Bush’s presidency.

“Per King: ‘As a nation, we’ve been through too many fights to preserve our rights of free thought to let them go just because some prude with a highlighter doesn’t approve of them.’ Defendants and their highlighters are the true library police.”

Wiener also said that “libraries must continuously review their collection to ensure that it is up to date” and engage in “removing outdated or duplicated materials … according to objective, neutral criteria”.

In a report released last October, the American Library Association found that Texas made the most attempts in the US to ban or restrict books in 2022. In total, the state made 93 attempts to restrict access to more than 2,300 books.

A wave of book banning has also emerged in Florida as part of the culture wars of the Republican governor, Ron DeSantis, on “wokeism”, a term meant to insult liberal values.

In January, a Florida school district removed dictionaries, encyclopedias and other books because the texts included descriptions of “sexual conduct”.

Meanwhile, in 2022, a Mississippi school district upheld the firing of an assistant principal after he read a humorous children’s book, I Need a New Butt, to his students.”

I don’t doubt that the litigation will continue but the 5th Circuit Court (one step below the Supreme Court) and a conservative court, has set a precedent which will be forced on other recalcitrant states.

Review: Glimpses of the Devil

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This is a book that I had been seeking for several years. I thought the title was “Hostage to the Devil” and I thought the author was Scott Peck. Looking on Amazon.co.uk, I wasn’t having any luck, but on Amazon.it, I had success on both searches. Under the author M. Scott Peck, M.D., I found Glimpses of the Devil, which is subtitled ‘A Psychiatrist’s Personal Accounts of Possession, Exorcism and Redemption’. I also found Hostage to the Devil whose author is Malachi Martin. Perhaps my search of the UK website was ineffective, or perhaps Italy being a Catholic country has a keener interest in exorcism. In any event, I bought both books, and I have finished reading Glimpses of the Devil.

The back cover of the book has this biography: “M. Scott Peck’s publishing history reflects his own evolution as a serious and widely acclaimed writer, thinker, psychiatrist, and spiritual guide. Since his groundbreaking bestseller, The Road Less Traveled, was first published in 1978, his insatiable intellectual curiosity has taken him in various new directions with virtually each new book: the subject of healing human evil in People of the Lie (1982), where he first briefly discussed exorcism and possession; the creative experience of community in The Different Drum (1987); the role of civility in personal relationships and society in A World Waiting to Be Born (1993); an examination of the complexities of life and the paradoxical nature of belief in Further Along the Road Less Traveled (1993); and an exploration of the medical, ethical, and spiritual issues of euthanasia in Denial of the Soul (1999); as well as a novel, a children’s book, and other works. A graduate of both Harvard University and Case Western Reserve, Dr. Peck served in the Army Medical Corps before maintaining a private practice in psychiatry.” Glimpses of the Devil was published in 2005. Dr Peck was born in 1936 and died in 2005.

M. Scott Peck

Glimpses of the Devil recounts two exorcisms actually performed by Dr Peck along with a team of religious leaders and volunteers. Both exorcisms were video recorded, and in writing the book, Dr Peck called on the recollections of the members of his team, the possessed person and members of her family.

Until Dr. Peck first met the young woman called Jersey, he did not believe in the devil. In fact, as a mature, highly experienced psychiatrist, he expected that this case would resolve his ongoing effort to prove to himself, as scientifically as possible, that there were absolutely no grounds for such beliefs.  Twenty-seven-year-old Jersey was of average intelligence; a caring and devoted wife and mother to her husband and two young daughters, she had no history of mental illness.Yet what he discovered could not be explained away simply as madness or by any standard clinical diagnosis. Through a series of unanticipated events, Dr. Peck found himself thrust into the role of exorcist, and his desire to treat and help Jersey led him down a path of blurred boundaries between science and religion. Once there, he came face-to-face with deeply entrenched evil.

Dr Peck’s second exorcism was Beccah, in her mid-forties and with a superior intellect, who had suffered from profound depression throughout her life, choosing to remain in an abusive relationship with her husband, one dominated by distrust and greed. This exorcism, like Jersey’s took four days, but this one was not successful in that Beccah was repossessed. Dr Peck attributed her repossession to the length of her possession, which was thought to be about 40 years. Beccah went back to her fraudulent financial business and died of osteomyelitis or morphine addiction fifteen or twenty years later by which time, Dr Peck was no longer in touch with her.

Dr Peck breaks an exorcism down into stages of Presence, Pretense, Break Point, Voice, Clash and Expulsion, the same stages as mentioned by Malachi Martin on Hostage to the Devil. In Presence, the team becomes aware of a demonic presence in the room. The temperature seems to drop, there is no other outward sign, but everyone can feel it. In Pretence, the demon pretends to be the possessed person, using his/her voice to speak. At Break Point, the Pretense ends and the demon uses the possessed’s vocal chords to speak in its own Voice. Clash, as the word suggests, marks the crucial disagreement with the demon and can include the exorcist, the possessed and members of the team. Expulsion marks the exit of the demon, which happens because the possessed turns against the demon, because of demands made by the exorcist, or (the Catholic church believes) by the intervention of Jesus.

Glimpses of the Devil is not a work of fiction. It is rather scientific work by a nationally recognised doctor. Nor is it one man’s testimony. Videotapes of both exorcisms exist and Dr Peck identifies all of the people involved in each process, though for obvious reasons, they are anonymised. One feels that one is actually present at each exorcism, observing all of the details worth observing. The author does not speculate or draw unproven conclusions. His principle conclusions are that the devil is a real being who is a huge threat to individual human beings, and the devil is afraid of Jesus.

It is a very difficult book to put down!

Best Seller List

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There is an article on the Literature News website, 10 March 2024, written by ‘Manish’ which confirms my long-held suspicions about the New York Times Best Seller List.

“When bestseller book lists are curated based on editorial whims rather than objective sales figures, the transparency and reliability of such rankings are compromised, leading to challenges for readers seeking genuine insights into popular literary tastes. In an ideal scenario, bestseller lists serve as valuable tools for readers to discover widely acclaimed books and gauge the preferences of their peers. However, when these lists are influenced by subjective judgments rather than concrete sales data, the distinction between truly popular books and those merely promoted or favoured by a select group of editors becomes blurred.

“This phenomenon undermines the credibility of bestseller lists and hampers readers’ ability to make informed decisions about their reading choices. Books that receive prominent placement on these lists due to editorial biases may garner unwarranted attention and overshadow lesser-known titles that may be more deserving of recognition based on their actual sales and reader reception. As a result, readers may miss out on discovering hidden gems that resonate with their interests and preferences.

“Now, let’s reveal the moot point of this article. In recent years, the New York Times Bestsellers List has come under scrutiny for its alleged editorial bias and lack of transparency. The controversy has sparked a heated debate within the publishing industry, with some authors and publishers questioning the list’s credibility and relevance. At the heart of the controversy is the claim that the New York Times Bestsellers List is not a true reflection of book sales but rather an editorial product subject to the editors’ preferences and biases. Critics argue that the list does not accurately represent the actual sales figures of their books, suggesting that the list is not a reliable indicator of a book’s popularity or success.

“In response to these claims, the New York Times maintains that the list is an editorial product and that they have the right to make decisions about which books to include and which to exclude. They argue that the list is not solely based on sales numbers but also takes into account other factors, such as the quality of the writing and the book’s overall impact.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that the New York Times has the audacity to call their list a “Bestseller List” when it’s clearly nothing more than a biased, subjective, and editorial-driven selection of books. It’s a slap in the face to authors and readers alike, who expect a bestseller list to be based on actual sales numbers and merit, not the whims of a few editors. The fact that the NYT openly admits to considering their list an “editorial product” and claims the right to include or exclude books based on factors like “quality of writing” and “overall impact” is a complete joke. Who are they to decide what constitutes quality or impact? It’s nothing more than an elitist, self-serving attempt to control the narrative and push their own agenda. If the New York Times wants to maintain any credibility, it should stop masquerading its list as a “Bestseller List” and rename it something more accurate, like “NYT Editorial Subjective Choices.” It’s time for them to own up to their biased, subjective, and editorial-driven selection process and stop misleading readers with their so-called “Bestseller List.”

“Evidently, the controversy has led to calls for greater transparency in the selection process for the New York Times Bestsellers List. Some authors and publishers have demanded that the New York Times provide more information about the criteria used to select books for the list and the data sources used to compile it.

“The debate has also highlighted the role of other bestseller lists, such as those published by Amazon and other retailers. These lists are based on actual sales data and are seen by some as more objective and reliable indicators of a book’s popularity.

“In conclusion, the controversy surrounding the New York Times Bestsellers List is an ongoing debate that raises important questions about the role of editorial judgment in the selection of books for bestseller lists and the need for transparency in the selection process. As the debate continues, whether the New York Times will respond to the criticisms and change how it compiles its Bestsellers List remains to be seen.”

Dealing with Adversity

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On the Novelry website, Dr Stephany Carty has a post dated October 22, 2023 in which she, a psychologist and a novelist, talks about how to write characters’ responses to adversity that are interesting, credible and define the character by showing, rather than telling.

Dr Stephanie Carty is a published writer, as well as a Consultant Clinical Psychologist and NHS Head of Psychology in the UK. Her fiction has been shortlisted for many competitions, and her writers’ craft book, Inside Fictional Minds: Tips from Psychology for Creating Characters, has been an invaluable source of inspiration and education.

Dr Stephany Carty

Dr Carty says, “At some point in all of our novels, our characters – be they protagonists, villains, or even the person holding up the queue in the coffee shop – are going to have to deal with some sort of adversity. Adversity is what propels our characters to change, as they stand in the face of their demons, or are given the wrong Starbucks order.

And how our characters react to that adversity can tell our readers a whole lot about who they are as people. In fact, it’s a great tool for showing (and not telling) your reader, what your characters are truly like.

But how do you decide on their reaction? Where will it come from? And how can you be sure it’s psychologically sound?

Survival mode: characters dealing with adversity

When we hurl difficult situations at our characters, they react in ways that match their history. Some will have picked up methods that focus on how to survive whereas others are able to thrive.

You can either work backwards from how you need your character to react, then figure out a backstory that matches; or you can take what you know about them already and discover their reaction by digging deeper into their survival mechanisms.

Decide on their worldview

In their early years and beyond, what did your character learn about how safe other people are?

If they were mistreated, bullied, surrounded by anger or fear, then they learned from a young age that the world is a dangerous place and that other people are potentially harmful.

This leads them to developing hypervigilance for danger and learning which responses help them to survive: fight back, withdraw, be charming, feign illness, make allies with the aggressor, blame someone else, and so on.

These early strategies reoccur in times that are (or are perceived to be) threatening. Their focus under real or anticipated danger is to go into survival mode.

Now consider a different trajectory for your character: they were cherished and nurtured in childhood. They were allowed to take steps to independence safe in the knowledge there would be back-up if needed. They learned that the world is a relatively safe place, and that other people help you when things get tough.

So their response to a challenge as an adult is to trust in their capacity to cope, to seek help and to help others, to believe that there is a way forward which facilitates problem-solving. They have a potential to thrive in difficult circumstances.

As you can see, the worldview informs what behaviour occurs. These can differ widely according to what has been learned to be effective.

Distinguish the root cause

What looks like the same behaviour on the surface could be either a sign of thriving or a sign of surviving.

Let’s take the example of a character who is cheerful at the harshest time, focusing their efforts on helping others.

This could be an example of thriving in someone who genuinely believes in themselves and that the future will be positive. However, it could also be a mask that has been learned as a survival strategy – that to act happy instead of scared and put other people first keeps them safe from the anger of others.

Your task is to show the reader the difference between the two by writing through the eyes of the character.

Choose some subtle signs of survival

Your reader can absorb clues about your character all the way through your novel without even realising. What little details could you choose to pay attention to that give more information than would appear at first glance?

Ideas for how you can ‘show’ a character’s survival pattern:

  • Environment – if your character tends to be in survival mode, then in scenes from their point of view, use what seems like background description of a room or street to show the reader what is foremost in the character’s attention. For example, you could mention that the exit is to their left (without needing to state this is someone who automatically checks for an escape route due to being in high threat mode), or that the second streetlight is flickering as if it could switch off any moment (they are hypervigilant to threat outdoors as well as inside).
  • Self-monitoring – show the focus that a character in survival mode may have on their own body. For example, someone who has learned to act passive in order to stay safe might sit on their hands or grip a chair to hide their anger; whilst a character who has been conditioned to act tough, and never show weakness to avoid being harmed, may be very aware if they are sweating or flushed.
  • Appearance – has your character learned to keep themselves looking drab and folded over to avoid unwanted attention, or are they immaculately turned out in popular brand name clothes as a survival strategy of fitting in to avoid bullying? You don’t need to explain this or make it stand out too much, you can simply name drop a label or the particular shade of nail polish in mint condition for example.

Differentiate

It’s really important to remember that survival mode has developed in a certain set of circumstances. This means that survival responses differ for each character.

Let’s say you have a section of the novel where your three characters are reacting to a threatening note that has been delivered to their flat.

Milly is fearful of coming to harm, just like her mum who was attacked in her twenties. This triggers her to panic and want to leave the area.

Jamie is fearful of being seen to be scared. He was bullied at school and learned to mask his fear to avoid being beaten up – or worse. He makes jokes about the letter but inside is scared that he’ll not be able to protect his friends.

Daniella’s survival strategy means she doesn’t notice her fear and goes straight into anger. She learned in her teens that the only way to stop her dad from hurting her mum was to fight back. She grabs a knife and sits by the door, ready for action.

Outside of this clear threat, you could find that Milly often stays home and does a lot of her social life online, Jamie is focused on how he looks in public and lifts weights at the gym for hours on end, whereas Daniella goads people to test them out and prove she’s the most capable.

You want the small scenes to add up to the same picture as the behaviour found towards the main threat.

You can plan this out for your characters by answering the following statements for each:

  • My survival mode is triggered by… (type of threat)
  • I keep myself safe by… (action)
  • I get my needs met by… (action)

A final point to remember is that your characters don’t have to fit neatly into one box or another. They may go into survival mode in some contexts and thrive in others, or you can have an arc that moves them out of threat mode across time.”

Book Fair Disaster

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In last Monday’s Daily Telegraph, there is an article by David Millward about a rather unpleasant book fair in the States.

“A four-day event that was supposed to be a bookworm’s dream has been dubbed the ‘Fyre Festival of Books’ after it descended into chaos and left one person with a black eye.

Led by Rebecca Yarros, a best-selling author, the Readers Take Denver festival at the Gaylord Rockies Resort and Convention Centre was billed as the ultimate event for book lovers.

However, as the day unfolded, the event fell apart, leading one disillusioned visitor to compare it to Fyre, the fraudulent 2017 music festival held on the Bahamian island of Great Exuma.

Attendees paid $300 to $375 (£239 to £299) for a ticket to an event where they were promised they could have books signed by best-selling authors who turned up in force to promote their writing. Many paid hundreds of dollars to travel to the event.

A timed ticketing system was supposed to ensure that readers had plenty of time to go from one booth to another to meet authors.

Instead, they spent hours queuing to have time with the writers, food ran out and pre-ordered books never arrived.

‘All we did was stand in line. It was worse than Disney, and there wasn’t even a ride at the end.’ Kelli Meyer, a self-described ‘RTD survivor’, told the Denver Post.

Security staff who were supposed to marshal the crowd failed to do so. One woman took to TikTok to describe how she sustained a black eye after being knocked over in a melee.

Another complained of being verbally abused by staff after she suffered a medical emergency. She claimed: ‘I was having a hypoglycaemic moment and was screamed at by staff to; ‘get the f—- up off the floor!’ She added: ‘there were so many horrific experiences between readers, vendors, authors, Pas, and volunteers alike. This was not just a breakdown in communication, it was a systematic issue with this program.’

Yarros, author of the best-sellers Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, vented her anger in a 2,436 word Facebook post apologising to guests who felt ‘frazzled’ and ‘overwhelmed’ by their experiences at the event. She wrote: ‘Readers, on behalf of every author at the event, I’m sorry. Sorry it was disorganised, sorry you did not get to bask in the overwhelming joy that spending three days in the book world should give you.’

Renee Jones, and event organiser, admitted the event suffered ‘bumpy bumps’. She said there had been ‘concerns’ about lack of security and unprofessional behaviour by volunteers.”

Review: Purpose

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This is a non-fiction book by Samuel T Wilkinson with the sub-title: What Evolution and Human Nature Imply About the Meaning of Our Existence. The leading blurb on the back cover says, “If you struggle to reconcile faith and reason, Sam Wilkinson’s profound book Purpose was written for you. You will be left with and understanding of the guiding forces behind human evolution and behaviour,” Arthur C Brooks, professor Harvard Kennedy School and Harvard Business School and #1 New York Times bestselling author.

Samuel T Wilkinson

Sam Wilkinson is an associate professor of psychiatry at Yale University, where he also as associate director of the Yale Depression Research Program. He received his MD from Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. His articles have been featured in the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Wall Street Journal. He has been the recipient of many awards.

The book begins with a discussion of the ‘Scopes Monkey Trial’ in Tennessee in 1925. John Scopes, a twenty-four year old substitute teacher and football coach was charged with violation of the recently passed Butler Act, which made it a crime to teach any theory which contradicted the Bible. Scopes had taught evolution which claimed that human beings had evolved from apes (in contradiction of the Bible). Scopes, himself, had very little role in the trial. The key players were William Jennings Bryan, a three-time presidential candidate and outspoken apologist for religious fundamentalism, for the prosecution, and Clarence Darrow, the most prominent defense attorney in the US at the time, for the defense. During the trial, Darrow called Bryan as a witness, and that interrogation resulted in a painful and cruel renunciation of biblical literalism. The jury, however, accepted that Scopes was guilty and fined him $100. The Scopes Monkey Trial, says the author, epitomises the science vs religion debate.

Wilkinson next attacks the doctrine of randomness associated with the concept of evolution: that every change in the struggle for survival was accidental and random, without any guidance or control. If one believes that human beings are a random construction, what are we here for? If we are here for no reason, it suggests that there is no God. But the author shows that evolution was far from a random process. That, for example, very different species have developed the same eye technology in entirely different environments at different times. The same point can be made about wings and lungs. The evolution of bacteria can be predicted.

Wilkinson then turns to the various selection processes that determine which variant is the one most likely to survive: is it done on an individual basis, amongst kin, or groups or at multiple levels. Selection can take place at different levels depending on the context, with very different results. Based on theses observations, it is not difficult to see that given the same starting point and the same inputs, living things would evolve exactly as they did if the process were to start over.

Wilkinson points out that human beings have two different sets of behaviours: kind, gentile, thoughtful, cooperative and forgiving vs. selfish, aggressive, emotive, combative and irrational. These two sets of behaviour have evolved consistently with us and are present in each of us to some extent. It is noted that even the ‘negative set’ have survival benefits in some circumstances. Wilkinson presents evidence that as human beings we are happiest when we have good relationships with others. On this basis, the author argues that life is meant as a test for us: how can we use our skills to maximise our good relations with others? He says there is certainly space to believe in a God who has given us free will and the opportunity to use our lives to benefit others.

Wilkinson presents well thought out arguments very clearly with a host of factual data. One cannot say he is wrong. He admits to a belief in God, but his belief is not part of his argument. He leaves it to the reader to draw her own conclusions, but don’t miss this read!

The Redemption Arc

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There is a post on the Reedsy Blog dated 12 April 2024 which can be informative to those of us who write. I quote from it below:

“A redemption arc is when a previously morally gray (or even downright evil) character turns over a new leaf. But what, exactly, does this redemption look like? 

Something to keep in mind is that one good deed does not make a redemption arc. The character you’re trying to redeem needs to develop some maturity, not just act positively once after a lifetime of villainy. Readers want to see someone grappling with their past and ultimately coming to terms with it through reflection and intentional behaviour as opposed to a quick and sudden change — in other words, it has to feel realistic. 

As a character recognizes the flaws in their past actions, their arc typically culminates in a pivotal redemptive moment where they selflessly sacrifice their desires — or sometimes even their life — for the greater good or for others. Importantly, this gesture must be significant enough to convincingly atone for all their past misdeeds.   

Audiences are drawn to these kinds of stories because we, as humans, are flawed and make mistakes. Seeing characters move past their misdeeds, make amends, and be forgiven by others gives us hope that we too can be offered that same grace. 

To get an idea of what that looks like, and to understand the power a redemptive arc can have for a character, let’s look at three popular examples. 

Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol

Ebenezer Scrooge’s story is a classic example of a redemption arc. From the moment we meet him on a bleak Christmas Eve, we know he’s not a good guy. He’s callous with his overworked, underpaid employee and with the poor who come asking for donations. 

Michael Caine as Scrooge in a Muppets Christmas Carol
Michael Caine makes a pretty good Scrooge, right alongside some Muppets in A Muppets Christmas Carol. (Source: Walt Disney Pictures)

While his solitary, penny-pinching ways make his life — and the lives of those around him — miserable, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to change. That is, until the appearance of some ghosts, and a little bit of time travel, challenge Scrooge to re-examine his ways. 

The ghost of his old business partner, Marley, and the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future force Scrooge to re-examine his life. They remind him of the better man he used to be, what he’s missing out on now, and the way his life will end if he continues on his current path. Deeply affected by what he’s seen, Scrooge vows to change his ways.

Once he returns to waking life, he immediately donates a huge sum of money to the previously-rejected charity, raises his employee’s pay, and goes to his nephew’s Christmas party. Scrooge even becomes a father figure to Bob Cratchit’s sickly son, further cementing his new commitment to doing good.

Zuko in Avatar: The Last Airbender

After being exiled from the Fire Nation by his cruel and demanding father, Prince Zuko has only one goal: capture the Avatar in order to regain his honour. The audience is first introduced to him as he does everything in his power to apprehend the main character, Aang. In other words, he starts the series as a fairly typical antagonist: hard, spiteful, and constantly doing whatever he can to stop the good Aang is trying to do.

But as we quickly learn, there’s far more to Zuko than meets the eye. He struggles with the expectations placed upon him by his father, a man who permanently scarred him (both physically and emotionally) for daring to speak up, and then sent him on a fool’s errand to get him out of the way. Zuko isn’t always sure he’s doing the right thing and constantly struggles to balance his father’s expectations with what he wants for himself — which is to be seen and respected for his achievements, without necessarily doing wicked things. 

Prince Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender
Prince Zuko eventually becomes Fire Lord Zuko, earning his redemption and restoring his honor. (Source: Nickelodeon)

Eventually, he is allowed to return to the Fire Nation with his honour restored, with the Avatar supposedly dead because of him. But his doubts never go away and he remains uncertain of his decision to “kill” Aang and return home. 

When he learns of his father’s plan to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, and of his own connection to the Avatar before Aang, Zuko decides he’s had enough. He confronts his father about his abusive treatment and imperialistic plans and declares his intentions to teach Aang firebending so the Avatar can stop him once and for all. Zuko sacrifices the one thing he’s always wanted, his father’s approval, in the name of the greater good — and, in the end, proves himself to be an honourable man. 

Boromir in The Lord of the Rings

On the surface, Boromir doesn’t seem like the kind of character who would need a redemption arc. A noble son of the kingdom of Gondor, he joins the Fellowship in their quest to destroy the One Ring with only the best intentions.

However, even he isn’t immune to the Ring’s corruptive powers, and as they continue on their journey, he becomes more and more aggressive in trying to convince Frodo to hand over the Ring to him so he can use it to defeat Sauron once and for all.

Sean Bean as Boromir in The Lord of the Rings
No one is immune to the temptation of the Ring, not even Boromir. (Source: New Line Cinema)

This comes to a head when Boromir attacks Frodo in the hopes of gaining the Ring. He doesn’t succeed, but this does break Frodo’s trust in the Fellowship and ultimately causes him to run away to complete the quest on his own. Boromir is consumed by guilt and, though unable to admit to his part in Frodo’s flight, he helps the rest of the hobbits search for them and fights to protect them from orcs — though he ultimately fails. However, he then manages to alert the rest of the company to the hobbits capture and admits how he failed Frodo with his dying breath. 

Boromir recognizes where he went wrong, and though he can’t make it up to Frodo, he proves himself a decent man in the end by defending his friends and giving the remaining members of the Fellowship a chance to save themselves.

There’s no one correct way to craft a redemption arc. Every character is different and so is their journey. But there are some key elements you should include to successfully convince your reader of a character’s change of heart. 

4 tips to write a redemption arc

1. Show them at their worst

First impressions make or break character. If you want the reader to root for them, you typically paint them in a good light from the start, perhaps by having them be generous to strangers or kind to children.

But when your character is in need of redemption, they likely won’t start off in such a good place. In fact, you want to show how terribly they’re doing, the evil deeds they’re committing, the way they’re being callous or pushing others too hard. 

For example, when we first meet Prince Zuko, he’s clearly positioned as the antagonist. He’s hunting Aang and attacks a defenseless village in an attempt to capture him, leaving a wake of destruction behind him as he goes. 

Showing your character at at their worst provides a stark contrast and sets the foundation for their redemptive journey, making the reader ask 一 will they ever change? And if so, how? 

2. Hint at why they are the way they are

Nobody exists in a vacuum, and past circumstances influence who a character is now. Perhaps the death of a loved one pushed them down a dark path, or the rejection of a parental figure altered the way they look at the world. Whatever it is, show the reader the motivation behind a character’s actions. 

This is important no matter what kind of character you’re writing — whether villain, hero, anti-hero, or soon-to-be-redeemed villain — but it’s especially important when dealing with a character you want the reader to give a second chance.

When we can understand a character’s motivations, we’ll be more likely to see their redeeming qualities and want them to do better. It doesn’t excuse what they do, but it offers an explanation, which allows a reader to sympathize, or even empathize, with them. 

3. Give them a moment of realization

As your character moves along their journey, they’ll learn new things about themself, achieve new perspectives, and perhaps have their morals and ideals challenged. These many small moments and thoughts will chip away at a character’s set ways until eventually, it crescendos into a defining moment. This is when they finally see the error of their ways and choose to set out on a different path — if not towards outright good, then at least to something better.

4. Let them atone through sacrifice

Demonstrating the character’s commitment to their new way of being is an essential aspect of the redemption arc. Actions speak louder than words, after all. To prove to both the audience and their companions how serious they are about changing, and to make up for their previous mistakes, a sacrifice will show their commitment. 

Many classic redemption stories will have a character heroically lay down their life for a new cause. While this is the ultimate form of sacrifice, and can be an impactful way to conclude a character arc, it’s also become something of a cliché. As an alternative, consider what else your character might sacrifice. Perhaps it’s their wealth, a prestigious position, or even a relationship that they give up in the name of the greater good. 

Whatever the sacrifice is, it should be big and important enough to your character that it would’ve been unthinkable for them to cast it aside when we first met them. With that, their redemption will be solidified and they will emerge a new person.”