blog – Page 46 – Kelley Eskridge

Yes, we can end hunger

I hope someone in the Obama administration is aware of this story about a city in Brazil that is successfully fighting hunger (thanks to Jeremy for the link).

This is one of the grand things about human beings, this urge we sometimes have to help each other, in small ways and large. And to learn from each other how to make things better. It’s not just about changing process, it’s about changing perspective.

Edited 21 March to add: Thanks to Steve for this additional article on Belo Horizonte’s anti-hunger programs.

The Haunting

Busy day, and so although there are things to say and stories to share, today, as they say, I got nuthin’. But since I have written before of Shirley Jackson, and since so many high school students find their way here looking for essay content, I thought I would give you this — a few minutes of Act 1 of The Haunting, the 1963 Robert Wise movie based on The Haunting of Hill House.

This clip begins about 8 or 9 minutes into the movie, after Eleanor (Nell) has been invited to come to Hill House to participate in a paranormal study.

The book, and this movie, have long fascinated me. Eleanor’s overwhelming need to escape is so finely balanced against her clear instinct for good and evil, for what is good or not good for her. And yet, knowing that Hill House is not good for her, she enters into it with only minimal hesitation, with a subterranean lightness of being. There’s a sense of power and freedom in crossing the line of no return… and of course that’s where the horror always comes from, the final realization that what we thought was freedom was just a better trap. It’s subtle and brilliant stuff, both in prose and in film.

A brilliant horizon

Several staff writers for @U2 (still the biggest and best U2 fan website on the planet) recently reviewed the new album, No Line on the Horizon.

Love, love, love.

I’ll be writing my next “Like A Song” essay about “Breathe” in mid-May. But for now, here’s my review; I invite you to read the other staff responses, and give the album a listen. Chances are I’m listening to it too.

Enjoy.

It’s a brilliant album.

I am a U2 fan, but I’m not an automatic fan of all things U2. I haven’t listened to a single track from How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb since the Vertigo tour. I am lukewarm about All That You Can’t Leave Behind — I love some of the songs there, but as an album it feels uneven to me, disconnected from itself and certainly disconnected from me. And so I’ve been worried.

And here I am, back again in the church of U2, mad in love with No Line On The Horizon.

It reminds me structurally of War — an album in two parts that takes me on a single, spiraling journey to a place that I can only describe as “deep inside.” Deep inside U2, who are in my opinion truly stretching themselves musically for the first time since Pop, and finally — finally! — back to making deeply personal music that is also sometimes political, as opposed to tub-thumping numbers or the horror that is “Window in the Skies.” And deep inside myself, too; these are songs I can connect with, soar with, cry to, move to. Songs I can love.

The base of the music is what I love best about U2: the strength and grace of the bass and drums, the guitar like soul in flight, the voice that is someone’s heart turned into sound. And from this base, the album climbs into places like “Breathe” and “Cedars of Lebanon” that literally take my breath away. I’ve never been so astonished by the ending of an album before.

It’s good to be in love again. It’s brilliant.

click here if you can’t see the player

Friday pint

Every week I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

On the InterWeb where time is flexible, we have nearly reached the end of 2006. That means there are only a couple more weeks of Friday pints before we are magically back in real time (whatever that means in the virtual world…)

Never (November 2006) — It’s a big word, one I don’t use often. But I mean it here.

More naked (November 2006) — The continuing conversation on where the writer is, and isn’t, in the work.

The conversation (December 2006) — Nearly 21 years of talking, so far. I hope for another 50 or 60 at least.

Enjoy your Friday.

Slow buzz

I just heard a tock against my window and looked up to see a bumblebee…well, bumbling, that’s what they do. It tapped the glass and dirigibled off.

I’m learning that if I keep my eyes and ears open, and especially my heart, spring comes to me in ways that are unexpected both in form and in timing.

Do you hear that gentle buzzing sound?

Dangerous wordle

It’s “the writers discover Wordle” day in our house. While Nicola was teasing the world with her new book, I was busy uploading the entire 25,000 words of “Dangerous Space” to see what I’d get…

(click on it, it gets big)

Wordle is fascinating in the way that one can manipulate the presentation of the word cloud — which can greatly change the impact, the meaning, the “story” behind it. I went through about 4 or 5 iterations of font, color scheme, layout that didn’t inspire any response in me. And then found this one and thought This is it. The way that the smaller words fit inside the letters of Duncan’s name, the way that random positioning of two words close together takes on a meaning of its own… so interesting to see the story in this way.

Wordle will do this for any text or url. Go on over, have fun.

Wilhelm and Murdoch

[Kelley’s note: I’m combining two questions into a single response here. ]

I know Kate Wilhelm was a co-founder of Clarion, but I know her best as a prolific and wonderful writer. I have read all of her stories about Charlie Meikeljon and Constance Leidl, some of her science fiction, and the novel Death Qualified, which is based on chaos theory. I know you have probably read her stuff.

And have you ever read anything by Iris Murdoch? I discovered her work by reading her biography by Peter Conradi. She mingles her peculiar perspective of fantasy with hard reality in a way I really enjoy. Readers love her because she wrote a lot of books, some better than others.

Please tell me what you think. Thanks.

Barbara

Kate was one of our instructors at Clarion ’88 — the one whose presence most excited me going in, the one I most wanted to like my work. I looked up to her.

So you may imagine that I was like a bunny in the headlights walking into the private conference with her and Damon. And there Kate told me, “You’re a writer.” I still remember how that made me felt.

She also taught me a lot about how editors (and, it turns out, screenplay readers) approach submissions: when she critiqued our Clarion stories, she drew a red line at the place where she disengaged from the story for whatever reason. A lot of those red lines were on the first page…

So yes, I’ve read her work (grin). I highly recommend the Constance and Charlie stories — wonderful characters, and I love the elements of sf and mysticism behind the mainstream mystery murder setups. I also very much like Death Qualified for that same approach.

And I love that her characters are grownups. Charlie and Constance are in their 50’s, I believe, and they are smart, capable, in love, truly married (with all the understanding and empathy and head-shaking not-again frustration of long and successful relationships), funny… characters whose stories always end too early for me, because I like spending time with them. That’s one of Kate’s real strengths as a writer, in my opinion — both in her series books and her standalones.

Have you read her collection of novellas Listen Listen? Absolutely fantastic. There’s one of my favorite Charlie and Constance stories (“With Thimbles, with Forks, and Hope”) plus the fabulous story “The Winter Beach.”

Here’s her bibliography. Start anywhere, they’re all good.

Iris Murdoch — wow, you caught me off guard with this. I read some of her work many years ago, so long that I can’t remember titles or details. I wish I had something intelligent to say about her, but instead I will thank you for bringing her back onto my radar. I will definitely read something — can you recommend a book to begin with?

First Lady crush

CNN reporter Jack Cafferty has a crush on Michelle Obama.

Me too.

Not an art crush (where I wish passionately to work with some amazing actor or musician or artist or writer, or to witness their process up close). Not a mad-sex crush (I’m sure I don’t have to explain that kind to you). It’s a friend-crush — I think Michelle Obama would be totally cool to hang out with. And definitely a First Lady-crush. I have never had a FL that I could look up to in this way. Not even Hillary, although I admire her extremely, did such a fantastic job of carving out her own distinctive space so quickly. Maybe it’s because I have always seen the Clintons as a political team, and I see the Obamas as a married couple both in highly influential political roles.

I do know that Michelle Obama is as much of a role model as her husband, and that she’s going to influence a lot of young (and not-so-young) lives by being smart, savvy, energetic, empathetic, engaged with people around her. By being a strong woman whose First Lady leadership puts a human face on her husband’s presidency.

And she has great biceps. Maybe I have a gym-crush…

Whatever it is, I think she’s fantastic, and she’s on my party list for sure. The President can come too (grin).

When you think about it…

… writing really is kind of like a passionate romance, and writers (even the married ones) are serial flingsters. (Except for those wanton multi-project floozy writers out there. You know who you are). Story, novel, screenplay, it doesn’t matter — it always starts with those lingering glances exchanged across a crowded brain with an irresistible character. Or more than one (oooh, those crazy pantextual writers). And before you know it, there you go again, slipping away from your sweetie to rendezvous with the story. Oh, by the way, I started working on something today…

And then the fun really begins.

I will let Maggie Stiefvater explain this part to you, because she does it so well. If you are a writer, this will help you explain the daily drama to all the people who look at you funny when you’re working. If you’re a person who thinks Someday I’ll write that novel, well…. the thing is, writing is like romance. If you fall hard, no one can talk you out of it. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking it’ll be any different for you.

Enjoy your Monday.

To women

Today is International Women’s Day.

Thank you to all the women who have helped me survive, grow, learn, fight, love, laugh, hope, cope, and appreciate the beautiful things of the world. To the women who taught me languages and why communication matters, who taught me poetry and prose. To the women who taught me by good and bad example how to behave in public, in business, in life. To the women who gutted it out during some bad time, and I know a million of you: you are all magnificent. To the women who dance and the women who watch, who write and read. To the women who reach and fail and reach again and touch the sun; and then go on to do the next thing that must be done.

I wish every woman in the world a life every bit as real, as full, as safe or risky or quiet or exciting as she herself has ever wanted. I wish that no one would ever again say “a woman can’t…” I wish that people would stop being so damn surprised when a woman they know turns out to be fully human, with all the grace and fear, potential and skill, short-sightedness and clear vision, caring and cruelty, horror and healing, cowardice and courage, and fierce yearning dreams that any human is capable of.

To the women who have enriched my life with your love, wisdom, and silly jokes; who have tended my wounds, held me while I cried, made me food, stood up for me; with whom I’ve shared books and television and movies; and secrets; who have showed me the world, and taught me that the world is just as real in my own back yard; who have believed in me fiercely, forgiven the hurt I have caused them, hauled me up short, told me hard truths; who have shown me the bright beauty of human kindness in a simple act; who have been unkind, frightened, flawed, hurtful, less than helpful, downright mean. You are all a part of me, and I love you.