Harvard Book Store; WGBH Forum Network; Amy Bloom: Where the God of Love Hangs Out

Good evening. My name is Ryan meta and on behalf of the Harvard bookstore I'm thrilled to welcome you to tonight's event with Amy Bloom. She's with us tonight to discuss her latest collection of short stories where the god of love hangs out. Tonight's event is one of many interesting talks that Harvard bookstore is hosting this spring upcoming talks include appearances by the MacArthur fellow who is hide game designer Jane McGonigal and professor of psychology in neuroscience V.S. Ramachandran. These events and more are listed online at Harvard dot com. The best way to find out about upcoming events is through our weekly email newsletter which you can sign up for by visiting Harvard dot com and clicking on subscribe. You can also follow us on Twitter. Become our fan on Facebook or pick up a paper event schedule at the information desk. After tonight's reading Well it's time for questions from the audience. And at the close of the talk will have a signing here at this table and you can find copies of where the god of love hangs out at the registers. I thank you for buying your books from Harvard bookstore and it's attending events like tonight's your

participation supports the existence of not only this author series but of an independent and community focused bookstore as well. I jumped a reminder that now is a great time to switch off or silence your cell phones. Tonight on behalf of Harvard bookstore I'm honored to introduce Amy Bloom to discuss her latest collection of stories where the god of love hangs out the dozen stories in where the god of love hangs out examine the unconventional relationships that develop in unlikely places. And the title story a married man admits his love for a young woman over a basket of sweet potato fries to the wife of his son. New stories from the Lionel and Julia group will surprise Miss Bloom's devoted readers and challenge newcomers to visit their complex relationship. The Boston Globe describes her writing as holding the reader in thrall. Blum shows us her character's inner lives and all their deeply and all their deeply human

complexity. Amy Bloom is the author of five previous books including The critically acclaimed away a blind man can see how much I love you and the National Book Award finalist come to me. She teaches creative writing at Wesleyan University and contributes to The New Yorker The Atlantic Monthly and Vogue. Without further ado. Ladies and gentlemen please join me in welcoming Amy Bloom. Thanks. I want to thank you for coming to an independent bookstore too. These are really the only places I read anymore and I'm always glad to see that their doors are still open. And I was even glad to see sort of that they didn't have a coffee bar. I thought that that spoke was bad news for me but it was really good news for their integrity and I thought that was very nice so instead of buying a cup of coffee you should buy another book does not remind you somebody else has.

The front half of the book are two sets of links short stories they're quartet's they're really sort of my wish to split the difference between short stories and it's a novel. Just because I tend to try to put off writing the novel as long as possible and this short story is the last in a quartet about William and Claire a pair of friends who are part of a foursome of friends middle aged people who find themselves falling in love. The story is called compassion and mercy. There's no power. The roads were thick with pine branches and whole birch trees that heavy boughs breaking off and landing on top of houses and cars and in front of driveways the low looping power lines coiled onto the road and even from their bedroom window Clare could see silver branches dangling in the icy

wires. Highways were closed. Classes were canceled. The phone didn't work. The front steps were slippery as hell and William kept a fire going in the living room and Claire toasted rye bread on the end of fondue forks for breakfast. They use the snowbank at the kitchen door to chill the wine. They read and played Scrabble and at four o'clock when daylight dropped to a deep indigo Claire lit two dozen candles and they got into their pile of quilts and pillows. All right William said. Let's have it. You find yourself shipwrecked on a desert island who do you want to be with me or Nelson Slater. Oh my god Claire says Nelson of course. It's a good choice that kid did a great job with the firewood. And William kept the fire going all night and every hour he had to roll sideways and crouch and then steady himself and then pull himself up with his cane and then balance himself and because Claire was watching and worried he had to do it all with the appearance of ease and Claire lay in the dark and tried to move the blankets far to

one side so they wouldn't tangle up William's feet. Hang on there's a seat over here and over here. OK. You're not actually helping William said I know where the blankets are so I can easily step over them and then of course you keep moving them. I feel bad Claire said. I'm going to break something if you keep helping. Let me help Claire said. And when the cold woke them Claire handed William the logs and they talked about whether or not it was worth it to use the turkey carcass for soup. And if you could really make a decent soup in the fireplace and William said the people had cooked primarily in hearts until the late 18th century and William told Clare about his visit to his cardiologist and the possible levels of fitness that he thought William could achieve a lot of men your age walk five miles a day the doctor said. My father in law got himself a personal trainer and he's 80. And Claire said that maybe they could walk to the diner on weekends and they talked about Claire's sons Adam and Danny and their wives and the two grandchildren and they talked about William's daughter Emily

and her pregnancy and the awful man she'd married. I'd rather she'd taken the veil William said. Little Sisters of Hannah. And when the subject came up William and Claire said nice things about the people they used to be married to. It had taken them five years to end their marriages and William's divorce lawyer was the sister of one of William's old friends. She was William's age in a sharp black suit and improbably black hair and blood red nails and her only concession to age was black patent flats. And William was sure that most of her life this woman had been stalking and killing wild game in stiletto heels with her bare hands. So she said you've been married 35 years. Well look Dr Langford Mister is fine William said. William is fine Bill. The woman said and William shook his head. Just kidding it's like this. Unless your wife is doing crack cocaine or having sex with young girls and barnyard animals what little you have will be split 50/50. That's fine William said. Not really the woman said. You call me Louise your wife obviously got a lawyer long before you did.

It's fine he said whatever it is it's not fine she said but let's say you have no personal attachment to any of the things she wants and let's say it's all worth about twenty thousand dollars. Let's have her give you twenty thousand dollars and you give her the stuff there's no reason for you just to roll over and put your paws up in the air. Whatever she wants William said. You should know I'm not having sex with you know graduate students or porn stars. I believe you she said. You might as well tell me it'll all come out in the wash Who are you having sex with. Her name is Claire Wexler and she teaches She's a very fine teacher and she makes me laugh she can be a difficult person he said beaming as if he were detailing her beauty. You'd like her and William wiped his eyes. All right said the lawyer. Let's get you hitched before we're all too old to enjoy it when they could finally Mary Claire called her sons. Danny said you might want to prenup. I'm just saying. And Adam said Geez I thought Isabelle was your friend. And William called his daughter and Emily said how can you do this to me I'm trying to get pregnant and her husband Kurt had to take the phone because she

was crying so hard. And Kurt said we're trying not to take sides you know. Three days after the storm had passed classes resumed and grimy cars filled slushy roads and Claire called both of her sons to say that they were essentially unharmed. What do you mean essentially Danny said and Claire said. I mean my hair is a mess and I lost a Scrabble 17 times and William's back hurts from sleeping near the fireplace. I'm completely and absolutely fine I should've said essentially. And William laughed and shook his head when she hung up. They should know by now Claire said. I'm sure they do William said but knowing and understanding are two different things for Shay and Claire and fancy talk. Claire said and she kissed his neck and the ball top of his head and the little red dents behind his ears which came from 65 years of wearing glasses. I have to go to Baltimore tomorrow remember. Of course William said but she knew he would call her the next day to ask about dinner when she reminded him that she was on her way to Baltimore he would be for just a quick minute crush. And then Crispin English. They spoke while

Clare was on the train. William unpacked his low salt low fat lunch this is disgusting he said this is punitive and Claire had gone over her notes for a talk on Jane Eyre in which I will reveal my awful retrograde underpinnings she said. And they made their night time phone date for 10 o'clock and William would still be at his desk at home and Clare would be in her bed at the University Club. She called him every half hour from 10:00 until midnight and then she told herself that he must have fallen asleep early and she called him at his university office and on his cell phone and at home she called him every 15 minutes from 7am until her talk and she began calling him again at 11 as soon as her talk was over she begged off the faculty lunch she said she was needed at home and her voice shook and no one doubted her. On the train Claire wondered who to call she couldn't ask Emily even though she lived only six blocks away you couldn't really say to a pregnant woman go see if your father was all right. By the time she would have gotten Emily to understand what was required and where the house key was hidden and that there was no real

cause for alarm. Emily would be sobbing and Claire would be trying not to scream at Emily to calm the fuck down. Isabel was the person to call and Clare couldn't call her but she could imagine Isabel saying of course Clare leave it to me and driving straight down from Boston to sort things out and making the beds and gathering the overdue library books into a pile and scolding William for making them all worry and then she would call Claire back to say that all broken things had been put right. She couldn't picture what might have happened to William. His face floated before her. His large lovely face his face when he was reading the newspaper his face when he had said to her. I am sorry. And she had thought Oh Christ breaking up again I thought we'd go until April at least and he had said You are everything to me. I'm so sorry I'm afraid we have to marry. And they cried so hard they had to sit down on the bench outside the diner and wipe each other's faces with napkins. Clear saw the man in the seat across from her smiling uncertainly. She must have been saying William's name out

loud. She walked to the little juncture between cars and called Margaret Slater her former cleaning lady and there was no answer. If Margaret had a cell phone Claire didn't know the number. Claire called every half hour home and then Margaret's number leaving messages and timing herself reading a few pages of the paper. Goddammit Margaret she thought you're retired pick up the fucking phone and Claire pulled into the driveway just as the sun was setting and Margaret pulled in right after her water still dripped from the gutters in the corners of the house and it would all freeze again at night. Oh Claire market said I just got your message as I was out of the house all day I'm so sorry. It's all right Clare said they both looked up at the light in William's window. He probably unplugged the phone. They live to drive us crazy Margaret said. And Claire scrabbled in the bottom of her bag for the house Kay furiously tossing tissues and pens and chapstick some quarters onto the sidewalk and thinking with every toss. What's your hurry. This is your last moment of not knowing stupid slow down. But

her hands move fast tearing at the silk lining of the bag until she saw out of the corner of her eye a brass house key sitting in Margaret's flat lined. She wanted to sit down on the porch and wait for someone else to come but clear open the door and then she wanted to turn right around and close it behind her. They should call his name she thought it's what you do when you come into your house and you haven't been able to reach your husband you know William William darling omma home. And then he pulls himself out of his green leather desk chair and comes to the top of the stairs his hair standing straight up and his glasses on the end of his nose and he says relief and annoyance clearly mixed. Oh darling you didn't call I waited for your call and then you say I did call. I called all night but the phone was off the hook you had the phone off and he says that he certainly did not and Margaret just watches bemused. She disapproved of the divorce she had all but said she I always thought Charles would leave you not the other way around. But she had given herself over on the wedding day and brought platters of deviled eggs and put her grandson in a navy blue suit and she had

cried. Folge and William had said after the ceremony and he said it several times a little drunk on champagne absolutely full and it wouldn't have mattered if no one had been there. But everyone had been and they got in one elegant Foxtrot before William's ankle acted up. And William will call down I'm so sorry we inconvenienced you Mrs. Slater and Margaret will shake her head fondly and go home and you drop your coat and bag in the hall and he comes down the stairs slowly. Careful with his ankle and he makes t to apologize for having scared the shit out of you. And Margaret waited as much as she wanted to help it wasn't her house or her husband. And Claire had been in charge of their relationship for the last twenty years this was not the moment to take the lead. Claire walked up the stairs and right into their bedroom as if William had phoned ahead and told her what to expect. He was lying on the bed shoes off and fully dressed his hand on Jane Eyre his eyes closed and his reading glasses on his chest. He is not to them what he is to me Jane Eyre thought while I breathe and think I

must love him. And Claire lay down next to him murmuring until Margaret put her hand on Claire's shoulder and asked if she should call the hospital or someone. I have no idea Claire said lying on the bed beside William staring at the ceiling. These things get done Claire thought whether you know what you're doing or not. The hospital is called the funeral home is contacted. The body is removed with some difficulty because he was a big man and the stairs are old and narrow and your sons and daughters in law call everyone who needs to be called and mama comes back the next day and makes up one of the boys bedrooms for you just in case. But when your best friend flies in from Cleveland you are lying in your own room wrapped in William's bathrobe and you wear his robe and his undershirt while she sits across from you. Her sensible shoes right beside William's wing tips and she helps you decide chapel or funeral home lunch or brunch food or wine. Who will speak. And your sons and their wives and the babies come and it is no more or less terrible to have them in the house. You move slowly and carefully swimming through a deep but traversable river of shit.

You must not inhale we must not stay. You really must not stop for anything at all. Destroyed and untouchable You can lie down on the other side when they have all gone home. Claire was careful during the funeral she didn't listen to anything that was said. She saw Isabel sitting with her daughter Emily and Kurt a little cluster of Langford's and Isabel wore a gray suit and hell Emily's hand and she left as soon as the service ended at the house Claire imagined Isabelle beside her she imagined herself encased in Isabel even in pajamas even suffering a bad cold Isabel always move like a woman in beautiful silk and Claire made an effort to move that way. She thanked people in Isabel's pleasant governess a voice. She straightened Danny's tie with Isabel's hand and white chocolate fingerprints off the back of a chair. She used Isabel to answer every question to make plans to get together with people she had no intention of seeing. And she hugged Emily the way Isabelle would have with a perfect degree of appreciation for Emily's pregnant and

furious state. And she went up stairs and laid down on the big bed and cried into the big tailored pillows William used for reading in bed. She held his reading glasses like a rosary. On the bed she rearrange their two unlikely stuffed animals. Oh rhino and pecker bird. William had said that's how he saw the two of them and a few years ago she had found herself in front of a fancy toy store in Guilford on the spring afternoon and bought a very expensive plush grey rhino and a velvety little brown white bird and she was putting the bit pear on their bed that night. You're not so tough. William had said I was clear said You've ruined me. Claire wanted to talk with Isabel about Emilie they used to talk about her all the time. Once after William's second heart attack when William was still Isabel's husband Isabelle and Clare were playing cards in William's hospital room and Emily and Kurt had just gone off to get sandwiches and Claire had stumbled over something nice to say about Kurt and Isabelle had slapped down her cards and said you can just

say what you want. He's dumb in that awful preppy way and a Republican and if he says No disrespect intended one more time I'm going to set him on fire. And William said De gustibus non US just between them which he said about many things and Isabel said that really doesn't help darling. William looked at Williams Lapis cufflinks and the watch she'd given him when they were in the third act of their affair. You can't give me a watch she said. I already have a perfectly good one. Clare took his watch off his wrist and laid it on the asphalt and drove over it twice. There she said it was a terrible accident you were so careless you had to replace it. And William took that beautiful watch she'd bought him out of the box and kissed her in the parking lot of a Marriott halfway between his home and hers and he had worn it every day until last Thursday. And Clare walked downstairs holding William's jewelry and she dropped the watch into Danny's pocket and she dropped the Lapis cufflinks and Adam's free hand. William particularly wanted you to have these she said and Adam looks surprised as well he

might Claire thought. Claire took the semester off she spent weeks in the public library crying and wandering up and down the mystery section looking for something she hadn't read. And a woman she didn't know popped out from behind the stacks and handed her a little ivory pamphlet. The pages held together with a dark blue silk ribbon and on the front it said God never gives us more than we can bear and the woman ran off and Claire caught the eye of the librarian who mouthed the words to her. Yes. And Clara carried it with her to the parking lot and looked over her shoulder to make sure the woman was gone and then she tossed in the trash. After the libration boys went to the coffee house or to the Turkish restaurant where they knew how to treat widows. And every evening at six men would spill out of the church across the street. They would smoke in the vestibule and they would sit down to play chess. And one evening one of the older men with a tidy silver crewcut and pants yanked up a little too high approached Claire. The man said gently are you waiting for the meeting. Claire said in her Isabelle voice it was very kind of him to ask but there was no meeting she was waiting

for. He said well I see you here a lot. I thought maybe you were trying to decide whether or not to go to the next meeting. And Claire said she had made up her mind which could have been true. She could just as soon have gone to an AA meeting as to have no rest for the weary meeting or people sick of life meeting and she did know something about drinking. Some time after she and William decided for the thousandth time that their affair was a terrible thing that their love for their spouses was much greater than their love for each other. That William and Isabel were suited just like Charles and Claire were suited and that the William unclear thing was nothing more than some odd summer lightning that would pass as soon as the season changed. Clara found herself having three glasses of wine every night. Her goal every night was to climb into bed exhausted and tipsy and fall deeply asleep before she could say anything to her husband about William. It was her version of One Day at a time and it worked for two years until she woke up crying and saying William's name into her pillow over and over again and she didn't think that was the kind of reckless behavior that interested the people at that meeting across the street.

The man put a the older alcoholic in front of Claire and said You're not alone. Claire said. That is so not true. She kept the orange and gray pamphlet on her kitchen table for a few weeks in case anyone dropped him because it made her laugh. The whole idea her favorite part and she had several especially the stoic recitation of ruined marriages dead children strange children alcoholic children multiple car accidents pedestrian and vehicular forced resignations outright firings embezzlement failed suicides and diabetic comas for absolute favorite in the category of the telling detail was an old woman carrying a fifth of vodka hidden in a bag of yarn. And Claire finally put the pamphlet away so it wouldn't worry Nelson when he came for Friday Night Dinners. His grandmother dropped him off at six and picked him up at 8:30 which gave her time for bingo and Nelson and Claire time to eat and play checkers. Nelson didn't know that William's pajamas were still under Claire's pillow. The bedroom still smelled like his cologne that his wingtips and his homely black sneakers were in the bottom of the bedroom

closet. He knew that William's canes were still in the umbrella stand and the refrigerator was filled with his favorite foods. But Nelson didn't mind. He had known and loved Clare most of his young life and he understood oh people craziness. His great aunt believe that every event in the Bible actually happened and left behind physical evidence that you could buy like the splinter from Noah's Ark she kept by her bed. And his cousin Chicot sat on the back porch shooting the heads of squirrels and chipmunks and reciting poetry. Nelson had known William Langford since he was five and he had gotten used to him. Mr. Langford was a big man with a big laugh and a big frown and he gave Nelson credit for who he was and what he did around the house. And he paid Nelson which Claire never remembered to. A man has to make a living Mr. Langford said one time and Nelson did like that. And they also like the Friday Night Dinners unless Claire started doing something really weird like setting three places at the table. He would keep coming over. Claire put the pork and apple on Nelson's plate and poured them both apple cider and when Nelson lifted the fork to his mouth and

chewed and then sighed and smiled. Happy to be loved and fed. Claire had to leave the kitchen for a minute. After a year everything was much the same. Claire fed Nelson on Friday nights she taught half time she cried in the shower and at the end of every day she put on one of William's button down shirts and a pair of his socks and settled down with a big book of Williams or an English mystery. When the phone rang Claire jumped Claire. How are you. Oh good morning how are you how's Adam. Her daughter in law would not be deflected. She tried to get her husband to call his mother every Sunday night but when he didn't and Clare could just imagine her sweet boy passive as granite. She's OK Lauren what he wanted to do about it Lauren who was properly brought up made the phone call. We'd love for you to visit us Claire. I bet Claire thought Oh not until the semester ends I just can't you all come out here any time. It really wouldn't be suitable. Claire said nothing. I mean it just wouldn't Lauren said polite and stubborn and Claire felt sorry for her. Clare wouldn't want herself for a mother

in law under the best of circumstances. I'd love to have you visit Claire said. This wasn't exactly true but she would certainly rather have them in her house than be someplace that had no William in it and the boy's room is all set with the bunk beds and your room for you and Adam and there's plenty of room. And here's Cirque du Soleil will be here in a few weeks and Claire and Margaret will take a little Nelson before he's too old to be seen in public with tooled ladies and Lauren's voice dropped and Claire knew she was walking from the living room where she was watching TV and folding laundry into a part of the house where Adam couldn't hear her. It doesn't matter how much room there is your house is like a mausoleum. How much was explained that to the boys Claire. Am I supposed to say grandma I love grandpa William so much he keeps every single thing he ever owned or read or ate all around her. I don't mind if that's what you want to tell them. In fact Clare thought I'll tell them myself little Miss let's call a spade a gardening implement and she could hear William saying darling you are as clear and bright as vinegar but not everyone wants their pipes cleaned. I don't want to

tell them that Lauren said. I want really. We all just want for you to begin you know just to get on with your life a little bit. Claire said and she thought she had never sounded more like Isabelle master of the even and elegant tone. I completely understand Lauren it is very good of you to call and Lauren put the boys on they said exactly what they should Hi Grandma Thanks for the Legos and Claire put post-its next to the kitchen counter at the beginning of every month so she could send an educational toy to each grandchild so that no one could accuse her of neglecting them. As she walked Lauren walked back into the living room and forced Adam to take the phone and Claire said to him before he could speak. I'm all right Adam not to worry. And he said I know. And Claire asked about his work and Lauren's classes. Jason's karate in the baby's teeth and when she could just do nothing more she said I'll let you go now honey. And she sat on the floor with the phone still in her hand. One Sunday her son Danny called and said Had you heard about Dad and Claire's heart clutched just as people describe it when she didn't say anything.

Danny cleared his throat and said I thought you might have heard Dad's getting married and Claire was so relieved she was practically giddy. Oh that's wonderful she said that nice tall woman who golf's and Danny laughed almost everything you could say about his future stepmother pointed directly to the way she was not like his mother particularly nice tall and gulfs and Claire got off the phone and sent Charles and his bride she couldn't remember the woman's name so she sent it to Mr and Mrs Charles Wexler which had a nice old fashioned ring to it. She sent them a big pretty Tiffany vase of the kind that she had wanted when she married Charles. The only phone call she made were to Isabel. She called in the early evening before Isabel turned in. There was nothing she didn't know about Isabel's habits. She dialed her number. William's old number and when Isabel answered she hung up. Of course Claire called Isabel about once a week after watching widows walk the most repulsive and irresistible show she had ever seen. Three sometimes four women sat around and said things like It's not an ending

it's a beginning. What made it bearable to Claire was that the women were all ardent Catholics and not like her except the discussion leader who was so obviously Jewish and from the Bronx that Clare had to google her to discover she had a Ph.D. in philosophical something and had converted to Catholicism after personal tragedy. Got to hear a woman who sounded a lot like her great Aunt Frieda say I pray for all widows we must all keep on with our faith and never forget that Jesus meets every need and clear waited for the punchline for the woman to yank her cross off her neck and say if you believe that Bible I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you. But she never did. She did sometimes say in the testing poking tone of a good rabbi. Isn't it interesting that so many women saints come to their sainthood through being widows poor and desperate alone in the world with no protection but the sisters took them in and even educated their children. Isn't it interesting that widowhood led them to become saints and extraordinary women to know themselves and Jesus better. And the other widows the

real Catholics didn't look interested at all. The good looking one in a red suit and red high heels kept reminding everyone that she was very recently widowed and young and pretty and the other to a garden gnome in baggy pants and black sneakers that didn't touch the floor and a tall woman in a frilly blouse with her glasses taped together at the bridge talked in genuinely heartbroken tones about their lives now that they were alone and they rarely mention their husbands. Although the gnome did say more than once that if she could forgive her late husband anyone could forgive anyone. Claire dials as soon as the organ music dies down and Isabelle picks up after one ring. Claire doesn't speak Claire. Clear skies hanging up was bad enough. Isabel Isabel sighs as well. I saw Emily a few weeks ago I dropped off a birthday present for baby Charlotte. She's beautiful and Emily seems very happy. I mean not to see me but in general.

Yes she told me I shouldn't have gone. Well Isabel said if you want to offer a relationship and generous gifts it's up to Emily. Kurt's mother's dead. I guess it depends on how many grandmothers Emily wants baby Charlotte to have. We guard lists of who they are. There is really no one like Isabel. I guess it does. I mean I'm not going to presume I'm not going to be dropping in all the time with a box of cookies and I hand that sweater. I wouldn't think so Claire. Oh Isabel I miss you. Goodnight Claire. When Claire gets off the phone there's a raccoon in her kitchen on the counter. It although Claire immediately thinks he is eating a slice of bacon bread. He's holding it in his small and very human black hands. He looks at her over the edge of the bread like a man peering over his glasses. A fat bold imperturbably man with a twinkle in his dark eyes. And even though she knows better even though William would have been very annoyed at her for doing so Claire says softly

William. The record doesn't answer and Claire smiles. She wouldn't have wanted the raccoon to say Claire because then she would have had to call her sons and have herself committed. And although this is not the life she hoped to have it's certainly better than being in a psychiatric hospital. And the raccoon has started on his second slice of bread. Claire would like to put out the orange marmalade in a little plate of honey. William never ate peanut butter but Claire wants to open a jar for the raccoon. She's read that they love peanut butter. She doesn't want the rock to leave. In an ideal world the raccoon would give clear advice. He would speak to her like Kwan Yin the Buddhist goddess of compassion and mercy. Or he would speak to her like Saint Paul of the patron saint of widows about whom Claire has heard so much lately and Claire says without moving. And why is St. Paul a saint. She dumps her four kids at a convent after the youngest dies. She runs off the Hejira with Saint Jerome how

is that a saint. You know she mothers all over America would love to dump their kids and travel. And the wreck who nobles at the cross. Oh it's very hard Claire says sitting down slowly and not too close. I miss him so much. I didn't know. I didn't know I would be like this but this is what happens when you love someone like that. I had no idea no one says there's no happy ending at all. No one says if you could look ahead you might want to stop now. I know I know I know I was lucky I was luckier than anyone to have had what I had. I know now I do really. And the raccoon picks up two large crumbs and tosses them into his mouth. He scans the counter in the canisters and looks closely at Claire. He hops down from the counter to the

kitchen stool and onto the floor and he strolls out the kitchen door. Claire told Nelson about the raccoon and they encouraged him with heels of bread and plastic containers of peanut butter leading up the kitchen steps but he didn't come back. She told Margaret Slater who said she was lucky not to have gotten rabies and she told Adam and Danny who said the same thing. She bought a stuffed animal raccoon with round black velvet paws much nicer than the actual raccoons and she put them on her bed with the right Now in the little bird and William's big pillows and she told little Charlotte raccoon stories when she came to babysit because in the end how could Emily say no to a baby sitter six blocks away and free and generous with her time. She even told Emily who paused and said with a little concerned that raccoons could be very dangerous. I don't know if you heard Emily said. My mother's getting married a wonderful man. And Claire bounced baby Charlotte on her knee. Oh good then everyone is

happy. Thank you. Thank you. So I'm all yours for a little while. Questions Answers complaints remarks I always point out to people that I was a therapist before I was a writer so I actually can stand here for 50 minutes of complete silence if necessary. Yes. People are not so spare and skimpy with their words and therapy sessions. There's

a lot of right which is perfectly understandable why you pay people to listen. But I think it's my own taste. I like being able the greatest thing in the world for me was when I was younger and I read War and Peace and there's this great description of the sort of scene in the door drawing room and the skirts are rustling over the parquet floor in the golden light with the dust motes is coming through and somebody is playing the piano forte and it's extremely detailed. And the next line is seven years later and that I thought was that's what I would like to be able to do I would like to skip all the dull parts not the description not the detail not the things that create the scene or the conversation but all the other stuff that is not so interesting. I had to think to myself oh maybe I won't have to have eight wheat threshing scenes in my novel you know. So that was always it I just wanted to be able to pick out the things that

mattered most and never doubt that my readers were smart. You know as smart if not smarter than me. Yes. I thought Oh Riley would you like me to repeat that remark. That nice sensible right writes of please repeat questions but I thought I wasn't really a question that was just an interesting remark. Oh I think that the tension is very much from how the difference the gap between how people feel and what they do. I sometimes say about my writing I'm always interested in that space between the sidewalk and the street. You know it's that that is so interesting to

me. The gap between what people say and what they really feel between what they think and what they really feel between what they tell you and what they know to be true you know between what they remember and what they really remember all that stuff. And so that leads to a lot of tension in people's actions. And also if there are two stories this is this is the this is the professorial part of me if there are two stories nothing interesting is happening right. Of all people. Will Duran in his sort of that big thing on history says you know the history of human beings is the life on the river banks in which people cook and clean and raise babies and feed their families and grow things and catch things and the blood of river the river of blood that runs through it. And that's how I think of fiction too it's it's domestic life it's everything that goes on it's everything that is every day. And then there is that thing which is

big and powerful and sometimes terrible and sometimes great that runs all the way through it. And I think you always want to have both. So it's not an anecdote it's a it's a story. It's me. Oh I thought meant like the next one I'm going to write and I was like oh my gosh you know. My eyes I don't want to see what's going to know what is one way when it's just your right and your knees. Lots of things that I write disturb me. I am very sympathetic I actually write with my eyes closed sometimes because I am myself so embarrassed and it's true and I tend not to read those parts to audiences because it's embarrassing to me and it's also equally embarrassing that I should blush while reading

my own work scenes that I have made happen. But you know terrible things happen you know people are taken by surprise they good people do bad things people do things that they regret terribly. Gosh just 15 seconds after they finished doing them but nevertheless those things are interesting and sometimes illuminating to read about so yes I close my eyes and I pretend that nobody will ever read these terrible things that I have these people do. And then you know I just keep writing. Yes I. Like it.

I think it is everything like that except the part about it being in the scape. I'm sure that must be great I have no idea what it's like to write and feel like it's a wonderful escape. But the question was do I write about people that I know. Do I make it up. Is it in the scape. It never feels like an escape it always feels like being the farmer of a very small subsistence farm where there is likely to be no rain anytime soon so. That so escape. No. You know reading PD James is in the scape writing my work is not. But I think that writers can never be entirely honest about whether or not it's people you know or people you make up whole cloth. I will say that I have had people respond to certain characters by saying I love that character. I know you must have had a Mrs. So-and-so in your life. And I had no Mrs. So and so I think the reason she was so alive on the page is because I had so longed to have had somebody like that but had nobody like that at all

or other times people will say I had a an early short story in which a woman has a schizophrenia sister very big blonde very crazy woman and my sister my actual sister used to come to the readings in her smart little suits and her four inch heels I think just so she could say I'm fine. So you know it's always it's always a mix. It's somebodies hair or it's somebody is look at somebody who's way of pausing when they talk. Or it's something that has just appeared to me. You know there are things that you can't help I think if you could have it as a writer if I if I had all of my work and I had some little computer program to take out certain words I probably would do that because I do notice over time that there are certain they're not themes that repeat themselves they're just tiny little details because

they are things that I like. You know there is there is always certain kinds of of classic jazz there's always people are always cooking because I like to cook. People usually have siblings because I have a sibling. People often have children because I have children so you don't want to mine the same territory over and over again on the other hand you write as you are. And there is no hiding it is what I have sadly come to include. Yes ma'am. I have my pause was not because I didn't know what you mean it was because they asked me to repeat the question I was thinking oh ok so. I guess how do the characters come sort of full formed do I discover them as I am writing along for the short stories.

They are often a little more formal because not really not much happens in my short stories. I said you know I said to somebody my short stories are like 1973 French films you know people have dinner somebody looks at somebody over the table somebody kisses somebody in the garage somebody folds the napkins. Its like thats the whole story. You know theres a lot of that in my fiction theres a lot of nothing much happens except people feel things deeply and you know they have interesting conversations. But in my novels I feel morally obliged to have something take place over the course of three hundred pages and. The THAT. That usually leads me to have sketches of characters. But it's like life actually the events tend to reveal who they are. And sometimes I have to write the thing that happens to see what they're going to do. It's not like Alice Walker used to say she used to say when I'm writing a novel my characters walk into the house and sit down on the end of my bed.

So I thought that must be fantastic. But nobody to whom I am not related ever does that. And I think you discover them. You want to think about them as much as possible it's actually the hardest thing the hardest thing is to hear them in your head hardest thing for me is to hear the character's voice is not it's not my voice that gives me trouble. I write the way I write you can you know you read my work you can find a sense of this book or that book and you go yeah why. You know it's the same person wrote that. But it's finding their voice is always the hardest thing and until you do that until I do that I'm just sort of mucking about you know feeling doomed actually. Yes. Wes was right it just was

so sad. Right right. It's just us here. But the question is sort of you know do I teach. Do I teach you know the craft of writing or do I teach sort of you know encountering the bigger world. I wish them all the luck in the world and encountering the great large world and you know there's no hurry. I mean they're kids and you know they'll get the shit kicked out of them soon enough there's no reason for me to hurry them up. It's bad enough that they're in my class so of my classes craft craft craft. That's that is I mean we do read and I have them. I just had them read Bartleby the Scrivener which I thought was going to kill them

but I and you know fair enough because if Melville was writing in the Moloch modern world that story would be ten pages shorter because you know at some point you like I get it and I'm pretty clear I understand he'd prefer not to you know. OK but. You can't but I says you can't teach talent but I can teach craft I can teach people how to tell the difference when a good sentence in a bad sentence no matter who writes it. I can teach them how to appreciate a sentence by Stephen King and a sentence by Jane Austin and understand what makes it good. Covers an enormous range of writers. You know there's such a wide range of good writers it's not. It's like they're not even writing in the same language they're doing completely different things but they can learn to understand what makes it good and and then finally I can teach them how to edit their own work and how to read as a writer and not just as a reader. But I always tell them you know do not come to my class

to be anointed. And do not come to my class to become talented. First I had no idea that they're 20 years old. I'm going to be talented or not they might turn out to be really and and only appear to me as completely hopeless wastes of space. You know. You never know. Or somebody writes something absolute fantastic then 1000 years old it's fifteen hundred words you think this is the real thing. And they never do it again. You know some of it is talent and some of it is how hard somebody wants to work. For Michael Cunningham always quotes Marilyn Monroe who said about her career. It wasn't the prettiest. And I wasn't the best. But I worked harder than anybody else and that and I I actually believe that although you can't do anything about how much of a gift you get you certainly make a decision about how hard you are prepared to work and how seriously Your appeared to take it. But I know for things they're exhausted. You know they just look

like gerbils at the end. It's terrible. Yes. Pardon me. Oh what writers do I admire. I mean really a book clerk at heart there. I read mysteries. I read what what people like to call literary fiction I read a lot of poetry so it's a really long list I could start with the poets because I was feel bad for poets I just feel like this is just so hard is this makes writing my kind of stuff look like a walk in the park. I really like Mark Doty I like Jane Hershfield I like Auden I like Lee Dickinson I like Donald Hall especially the book without love Jane Kenyon. I love him. I won't bore you with like all the mystery writers I like. That's really a very large group but only of interest other people who like to read mysteries. Everybody else is like why would you mention.

Sure. OK. Now McDermott PD James Elizabeth George Ed McBain. That's that's probably good enough for starters. Early in Rankin. Oh and she just wrote. She just wrote two books in the last two years I think her last name is French into the woods. Very good very good very smart. What else. Oh I just read empty family empty families Toben book. Yeah. Wonderful. I liked it very very much. And I just try to see my nightstand. Yes. Oh there's something else I was reading Oh and I'm I'm reading over my husband shoulders I'm reading the Tony Judt book not the memoir but the one thing that's fails that I can somebody who read it must know the title it has land in the

title. Ill Fares the Land thank you very much so there you have it. You're welcome. Yes. Yes. What about mysteries. I think that for me really there is something so comforting and delightful about the world in which terrible things happen at a regularly play at regularly plotted intervals for my entertainment. I find that very very cozy and comforting. And then people solve it all as well. Some hard lessons have been learned. I've explored the English or the Scottish or the American countryside. Well it certainly is I did actually write a mystery. The first thing I ever wrote was a mystery. This is this is a great story so I write the mystery because. Because I decided not to become a psychoanalyst. So clearly the

next step was to become a mystery novelist. Having never written anything before so I start writing as I feel I understand mysteries I know how the I get it. So I write this mystery and I send it to my only reader who is my former high school English teacher who loves me more than anything. And he goes darling. The characters are so fresh and alive and the dialogue is so funny and original. I don't really need to read mysteries. Shouldn't there be more than one suspect. And I thought that is an excellent point and I can't think of one. So I I I finished it and the short story started showing up and I did actually sell the mystery in the first collection of short stories and I then thought the mystery was so bad I bought a back from my publisher. Because I just felt that there does not need to be more crap in the world. So I'm a great admirer of good mysteries I really am.

Yes. Right. In terms of what inspired me to write about Claire and Isabelle I think it wasn't so much about this relationship between these two women although I do have some very very close female friends and to think about losing those friendships is is is is terrible. It would be like entering a desert. But I think what I was really thinking about was how much you have to lose as you get older. You know we think of young people as sort of throwing things over and going far away and changing jobs and changing their lives but the people to whom it seems to me that's enormously complicated and

costly and emotionally demanding and occasionally heroic often you know misguided stupid and terrible but occasionally heroic are older people. And I I just found myself thinking so much. I spent a lot of time actually with that last story because I kept thinking of my notes to myself my outlines for short stories usually say things like you know woman with glasses goes to grocery store something terrible happens I mean those are that's like the entire outline. And for this story I had it said William dies and Claire survives. Who else does she lose. That was the outline for the story. So it wasn't so much the tension between the women as as just this idea that there are losses you have to live with. And I like writing about that. You know I like writing about the happiness and I like writing about the scars.

Those are those are the things I tend to write about. So yes. All of you are obviously right. I would say actually my relationship to the with you or in the stories tends to be the other way around. When I look back at some of my early stories there are occasion I tried but I didn't always succeed. There cation all funny lines that a character has that I find myself thinking I'm not sure this really comes from this character. You know it's a great line it's very funny and so you know I just always think to myself you know too cute by half. And so my goal as a writer is actually now to control the humor the other way. It's never that I have to inject it.

But sometimes I have to take it out. You know people cannot be clever all the time. Sometimes it's just terrible and hard and people say dopey things and I have to make sure I allow them to say dopey although interesting things and and not for me it was hard when I was starting to write. I just had to not hide behind that because if you can write a good sentence it's it's a very useful skill obviously. But it can also be a cover up you don't want to have all icing no cake. So you had a question. No no no no that's that's a very fair question and I always do feel

a little nervous when I see people reading along when I know that it's not that you are the only person who has ever done this. Yeah well the other people who do it have don't have that excuse me. I can see clearly that they're Americans and they they know they they don't have to do that. But the but. But the truth is that when. There are couple of reasons that I change the words once in a while. There's a word that I wrote that I have felt since that book came out was the wrong word. There's one like that in the collection income to me and it's in silver water and I finally got it changed in subsequent editions but at some point I like the name the kind of pills the person took and I just wanted to say white pills and every time I read I'd be like oh well you know because I was so agitated every time I saw it on the page. So when I'm reading I change things for a couple of reasons. Sometimes I believe details because hearing is different than seeing it on the page. And what can

be very full when you're reading it can be a little long when you're hearing it. So there's that. I can't stand giving like an overly long reading it just seems to me so rude and terrible. Sometimes there are words that I don't pronounce really well. And if I'm reading in the middle of a sentence they're going to trip me up. And so I just don't say them. Because it's too difficult. And then the third reading is the third reason is that there are words like and and so and also the use of certain tenses which when you're reading out loud because the person has not been immersed in the book you're just here now. You were looking at the preceeding 10 pages. You know that I it's necessary to sort of relocate the reader from time to time to say her son damning words in the sentence It just says Danny because

people are staying with me especially with a story like this in which there are a lot of characters I need to sort of use somebody whose name again I need to use the relationship between them. So it usually has to do with what I regard as the needs of reading rather than how I put on the page how I put on the page is how I hear it. That is my strongest intention. But when people come to listen I want to make it as as good as possible for that so. I can do for you folks you know. You know listen not only do what you want with me all the time. The future of the novel and the short story that should probably wrap it up for the evening. I think that's why drinks on the House I think. I think we will. People who write will go on writing. There will maybe not

be an explosion of people who read I suspect. I think that I also think that people who do the kind of writing I do we will be in 25 or 35 years like people who make their own shoes. I mean people will think it's charming you know and look though how do you play. It's. Your fall release isn't everything. I hope not. But that's that seems quite possible to me. I think people will read in different forms sometimes in forms that I'm not crazy about but who want to say people shouldn't read on Kindles. You know you're traveling my mother in law goes on a long trip. You know she's 75 years old God bless her she's not going to carry 40 books with her. How can I not be thrilled that she's bringing 40 books with her to read even if it's on the Kindle so I think all those things will change. I think people's attention spans have already changed as I often say you know I'm sure

that at some point in the past after the invention of electricity people like you and me were sitting there going oh we're all going to hell in a handbasket. You know you can turn those lights on and off and now you've got television and nobody plays the harpsichord anymore. And it's true those there are real losses. On the other hand it doesn't matter what we think of it it is already different. And so I think writers will keep writing. And I have more questions about what will happen in publishing. I suspect the writers will keep writing and readers will keep reading. So on that note thank you all very much for coming in tonight. I mean where do you want me to be.