REVIEW: Brit Bennett Reading

And the prodigal son returns. Well, not exactly, but that sense of coming home was prevalent throughout the reading. After all, Brit Bennett graduated with an MFA from the University of Michigan only a short time ago. In fact, the Literati staff member who introduced Brit Bennett talked about reading a draft of this novel two years ago. It was a rather personal–and proud–introduction.

Brit Bennett read two sections from her debut novel, The Mothers. The first of these followed Nadia, the girl whose abortion the novel centers on, as she goes to college–at the University of Michigan, of course. The section is prefaced by the unified voices of the mothers–part of what makes the novel so unique–as they talk about how “we tried to love the world,” but this love was beaten out of them by life’s cruelties. Then we are following Nadia as she attempts to navigate university, Ann Arbor, and Michigan winters (Nadia is from California). Bennett threw a lot of criticisms at Ann Arbor and the people in it, the pseudo-liberals who preach tolerance but practice none–I’d call the choice of reading this section bold if it wasn’t for the fact that being the pseudo-liberals they are, Ann Arbor residents love criticism of themselves. They eat it up. After all, such criticisms are always talking about other residents, never themselves–but that’s beside the point. I found this section to be particularly truthful, especially when it talked about how “maybe if you had come from some farm town, it seemed [liberal and perfect]” (as someone who did come from “some farm town” Ann Arbor did it seem like a liberal utopia for a while). But, of course, this section wasn’t just her bashing this city–it was also filled with beautiful lines about Nadia and how she was handling her world. One of these was “this would be her life: accomplishing the things her mother had never done” (for context, Nadia’s mother died before the novel took place). This part demonstrated Bennett’s ability to create a sense of place and to show how her characters develop in it.

The next section focused on Luke, the pastor’s son who was the father of Nadia’s fetus, as he lived his life back in California after she left. The scene placed him at a barbecue with his fellow semi-pro football players and their wives and families–with Luke alone. I found this section less entrancing than the previous one, but one of the things Bennett talked about afterwards in her conversation made it more appealing to me. Towards the end of this section, Luke thinks about the abortion Nadia had and Bennett discussed how she had to imagine how a young man might feel about that because the issue to her seemed so squarely located in the body of the woman. This ability to inhabit another character’s skin, even when you don’t believe the things that character believes, is a great talent of Bennett’s and showcased throughout the book.

Then there was the conversation with Chris McCormick. This conversation was particularly interesting because McCormick had been her classmate in her MFA program–he had read multiple drafts of this book and even given her suggestions (some of which she incorporated). The conversation was thus tuned to the craft elements of the work, the description of how this book came to be (as she’d been working on this book for 7 years, there was a lot of material to foster this talk). One such thing discussed was why Nadia came to Ann Arbor. Originally, Nadia was supposed to go to school in Florida, but eventually it became clear that she needed more of a culture shock–she needed seasons, and most of all, she needed winter. This character was too self-assured, too able to handle things–Bennett needed to get her out of her comfort zone, and as she herself was studying at this university, Ann Arbor was the intuitive choice. Another thing discussed was how Bennett was interested in the aftermath–like I mentioned, Nadia’s mother dies before the book takes place and her abortion, one of the central plots of the book, occurs early on. This isn’t a book about her abortion per se, but about the aftermath of the abortion. Bennett thought this story would be more compact, but eventually she realized that it was longer and more expansive than it seemed at the surface.

Overall, it was an excellent reading. The Mothers is already receiving lots of buzz and attention from critics and I look forward to seeing how far Brit Bennett will go.

The line for the signing after the reading.
The line for the signing after the reading.

PREVIEW: Margaret Atwood Reading

Brought to you by Literati, Margaret Atwood, winner of the Booker Prize, writer of more than forty books of fiction, poetry, and essays, beloved sci-fi author, is coming to Ann Arbor. If you’re anything like me, you’ll need a moment to breathe in order to not pass out. This Friday, she will be reading from her latest book, Hag-Seed, which is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Tempest, at Rackham Auditorium. Following the reading will be a signing. The event costs $30 but included in the ticket is a copy of Hag-Seed–unfortunately, tickets are sold out, so you’ll have to track down someone and convince them to sell you their ticket.

PREVIEW: Brit Bennett Reading

Are you the last student remaining in Ann Arbor over Fall Break? Ignoring the three exams and five papers you have due next week? All of your friends are gone and you’re looking for something to do? Well, look no further. This Monday, at 7 pm, Literati will be hosting Brit Bennett who will be reading from her debut novel, The Mothers, which has the literary world buzzing. Brit Bennett recently graduated from the University of Michigan MFA program and won a Hopwood Award during her time here. After the reading, she will be joined by Chris McCormick in conversation.

REVIEW: China Miéville In Conversation

 

 

For a conversation between a writer and an English professor, China Mievelle’s conversation with Joshua Miller was surprisingly unwriterly. Typically, conversations with writers focus on the details of the book and the writing and research process employed, and while China of course discussed his work, the discussion seemed more focused on the ideas contained within the work and not the work itself. China shied away from the more writerly aspects, the questions about what it is like to write and what it is like to be a writer, the questions that all writers are asked all the time. He does not seem to care for such questions and would rather talk about the things he thinks about.

The conversation started, of course, with a discussion about genre and experimentalism. For those unfamiliar with China’s work, he writes within a genre called “New Weird,” which combines aspects of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. On this subject, China talked about how he has had this fascination with monsters since he was a kid. He explored this fascination with the monsters he created in Perdido Street Station, named Remades. These monsters allowed him to work with “impossible specificity,” combining humans with all sorts of bits and scraps of animals, each more unorthodox than the last. After all, a monster according to China is something non-human implanted in the human. The discussion then veered to the sociological, since Remades aren’t just any humans mixed with animal parts, but criminals. He described them as “sadistic imagining of the criminal’s body,” after first discussing how people are obsessed with the bodies of criminals, how we see them as less than human.

From there, the conversation shifted to how China utilizes language (as a concept) in his work, particularly in his novel Embassytown. China has an interest in sociolinguistics and how language shapes the way we think and act. He describes his interest in language as more abstract than specific, as in unlike Tolkien, he doesn’t desire to create his own language, merely work with the theories behind it. In fact, in this book, he plays with Sapir–Whorf hypothesis, which states the grammatical structure of our language shapes how we see the world. Though he acknowledges that this theory is defunct, he still enjoyed exploring its application.

One of the more interesting parts about the conversation for me, was China discussing science-fiction’s obsession with aliens. After all, no matter how they choose to depict them, science-fiction can never truly depict aliens, for “definitionally, the alien cannot be depicted.” Since we are not alien, we are native to our own ways of thinking, we cannot truly imagine an alien being, let alone an alien thought process. In the same way that we cannot say the unsayable definitionally, we cannot show an alien creature.

The last question of the night was asked by a member of the audience and it was “how do you think Brexit will affect the writers and artists living in England (China is British). Though we were long out of time, China could not help but go on a bit of rant about Brexit, which he characterized as the “butchers versus racists” and said that “the EU is as much as a war fetishist as Donald Trump.” As a socialist, China is not particularly attached to either side in the Brexit debate, which allowed him to call out both sides for their hypocrisy. It was great.

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PREVIEW: China Miéville In Conversation

China Miéville Credit: Guardian
China Miéville Credit: Guardian

China Miéville, the critically-acclaimed author of Perdido Street Station and The City & the City and the writer at the forefront of the “new weird” genre, will be in conversation with Associate Professor Joshua Miller at the Helmert Stern Auditorium in UMMA this Thursday at 5:30. With a writer as eclectic as China Miéville, the conversation is certain to be an interesting one. If you want more China Miéville, then there’s a reading Tuesday at 6:00, also in the Helmert Stern Auditorium and a lecture on Wednesday at 5:00 in 1014 Tisch Hall revolving around imagined cityscapes.

REVIEW: Alice McDermott Reading

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Alice McDermott began her reading by, well, telling us why she was reading the passages she was reading. She explained that she liked to wait until the last minute to decide what to read, to be inspired by some fact of the day or something the audience says. As a fiction writer she has an “eternal struggle to surprise [herself];” after all, they’re generally the ones doing the surprising.

The first thing she read was not from one of her published novels but was something “still under-construction.” It was a scene describing the main character’s earliest memory–she mentioned that she was fascinated with earliest memories because they were almost always fictionalized, either mostly or entirety–which was of being a baby pushed in a carriage. Though usually when writers try to write from the POV of young, young children, it becomes rather one-dimensional and dull, McDermott managed to create believable urgency in the mind of this baby. The baby wasn’t just a baby, but a character in his own right; he had a personality. The passage ended with him looking over at another carriage, seeing a baby girl, and thinking “there’s the girl I’ll marry.”

The next two things she read were from her last novel, Someone. The first was another first memory, this time from the main character, Marie waiting for her father to come home and the various rituals of her home life. This included the wonderful line: “I sometimes wonder if all the faith and all the fancy, all the fear, the speculation, all the wild imaginings that go into the study of heaven and hell, don’t shortchange, after all, that other, earlier uncertainty: the darkness before the slow coming to awareness of the first light.” The second passage was much later in Marie’s life and described the birth of her first child and all the horror and pain that went with it. Throughout this section, the most striking thing to me was how well the character’s attitude and identity were maintained. The story didn’t feel like McDermott asked hersled “what would a person do in this situation?”, but “what would Marie do?”

There was a brief Q&A section after the reading. During this, a question was raised about how many critics have described this book as about an “unremarkable life.” As someone who has read the book, this is fair criticism–there is nothing remarkable about Marie, she is nothing more than an ordinary Irish girl growing up in Brooklyn. There is no real plot, no great twists and turns, no excitement boiling underneath the surface, there is only Marie. In response to this question, McDermott talked about how it would be easy to say something like “but is any of us really ordinary” to these critics, but she believes that yes, most of us are just ordinary. And that’s the kind of book she was writing. There are numerous glimpses in the book of lives more interesting than Marie, and according to McDermott, it was tempting to let one of these characters take over, to let things actually happen in the book–but she resisted and the novel remains the story of single, ordinary girl.

If this has sparked your interest, Alice McDermott will be having a conversation with Professor Eileen Pollack, this Thursday at 5:30 in the UMMA auditorium. McDermott says many interesting things about writing and gives advice for young writers, so if that sounds interesting, be sure to be there!

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