The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

“It’s about cells!” my professor gleefully said when I asked her for a brief synopsis of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.  Oh god, I thought, it’s about science.  My gut reaction was to tune her out, but I had to pick a book to use in my Writing & Rhetoric course, and the clock was ticking.  I had to choose a book that incorporated primary and secondary research in a creative way, and this seemed to be as good a choice as any.  Needless to say I didn’t begin the book with the highest of expectations.

The book surprised me.  The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks made me think about science and creative nonfiction in a whole new way.  Author Rebecca Skloot tells the story of Henrietta Lacks, a black tobacco farmer who developed cervical cancer and was treated at John Hopkins in the early 1950s.  While at Hopkins, tissue was taken from Henrietta’s tumor, and from that tissue came the first ‘immortal’ human cells grown in culture.  HeLa cells would be used in developing the Polio vaccine, cancer research, and the cells were even sent up in the first space mission.

Henrietta and her family were never told.

In fact, Henrietta died shortly after the initial sample was taken, and it wasn’t until the mid-70s that her family discovered what scientists had done with the cells.  To this day, the family has never made any money off of HeLa, which has become a multi-billion dollar industry.

Lots of people, myself included, learned about HeLa cells in freshman biology class, but few people ever stopped to consider where the cells came from: that’s where Rebecca Skloot comes in.  Skloot spent 10 years writing this book.  The book is full of meticulous research, interviews with the Lacks family, and Skloot’s own experience of uncovering Henrietta’s story.  With an MFA in Creative Nonfiction Skloot is able to tell the story in an informative and engaging manner that no one has been able to do before her.  Even my students, who had been nonplussed with my previous reading selections, enjoyed the book.  Rather than traditional research papers, my students had to write ethnographic inquiry essays and the book became a model for writing about a question related to a community/culture, uncovering the answers, and telling the reader about it in a personal way.  

I was lucky enough to meet Skloot during a talk and signing with Mary Roach at the Harold Washing Library last month.  During the talk, Skloot said that she never considered becoming a writer, and only took a creative writing course at her undergraduate university because it fulfilled the school’s foreign language requirement, which in some ways makes perfect sense.  Anyway, Skloot gave up her dream of becoming a veterinarian and began writing.  She’s now working on a new book regarding the ethics of animal testing.  During the signing, Skloot was patient, talking to everyone who got a book signed, including me.  I was delighted to see that she signed all the books with a purple fountain pen.

So even if science makes your eyes cross, I would encourage you to pick up a copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.  You’ll find that the book is about much more than “just” cells (and even those end up being pretty cool too).

The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe

I’ve been on an academic/paranormal kick these days.  After finishing A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness which I’ll review later, I picked up Katherine Howe’s 2009 novel, The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane.  After reading both books back to back, I have to say that “Physick” is my favorite of the two, despite the global popularity of “Discovery.”  Although both books deal with the subject of witchcraft, Howe’s novel is more subtle, but even eerier than Harkness’s “Discovery” due to its understated quality.

“Physick” shifts seamlessly between two worlds: 1991 Massachusetts and 17^th century Salem where the witch trials have reached fever pitch.  In the present, doctoral candidate Connie Goodwin is preparing for her oral exams in Colonial and New England History.  Howe was also studying for her oral exams when she first began her imaginings of “Physick” and the scene in which Connie sits for her exams could only have been written by someone who has gone through the ordeal.  I even found myself breaking a sweat as Connie answers painfully intricate questions about New England history that only the most diligent scholar would know. 

After her exams, Connie is made caretaker of her grandmother’s old home in Marblehead, Massachusetts.  Again, Howe drew from personal life, having moved to Marblehead with her husband in 2005.  The home has been vacant for years and has no electricity or telephone service.  As Connie fixes up the house, she comes across a hollowed out key which holds a fragile piece of parchment with the name “Deliverance Dane” scrawled on it.  Like all good academics, Connie is curious, and so begins her search for Deliverance Dane, a possible victim of the Salem Witch trials that perhaps was not as innocent as the other men and women who senselessly lost their lives.  In fact, Connie herself might possess powers that not even she is aware of. 

I should note here that another interesting twist in Howe’s own story is that she is related to Elizabeth Proctor and Elizabeth Howe who were both accused of witchcraft.  Elizabeth Proctor was released from prison in 1693.  Elizabeth Howe was hanged along with four other women on July 19^th, 1692.

Woven in with Connie’s quest to discover the identity of Deliverance Dane is a power struggle with her academic advisor, Manning Chilton, whose interest in Connie’s research might be more for his own gain than hers, as well as a romantic entanglement with a local steeplejack which gives some enjoyable lightness to the book.  Howe also shifts back in time to examine the lives of Deliverance Dane and her heirs who had to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of the trials.

Howe’s work is a prime example that academics can also be creative.  She develops a complex plot with witty dialogue, and pulls from personal experience to create an engaging story.  I haven’t had the honor of meeting Howe, but I have watched several interviews and follow her on Twitter, and she is absolutely delightful.  Being an academic, she is able to give a good deal of historical context regarding the choices she makes in her work.

If you enjoy The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, you’ll want to check out Howe’s second novel, The House of Velvet and Glass.  I haven’t read it yet, but it’s been receiving excellent reviews and is set shortly after the sinking of the Titanic.  Howe is also working on a third novel that I am eagerly awaiting.

For more information about Katherine Howe and her books, you can visit her website: katherinehowe.com, Facebook page: facebook.com/katherinebhowe, or Twitter:@katherinebhowe

  

Slouching Towards Grad School

So all the neuroses were for nothing.  Despite wondering if my acceptance letter had been sent to me by accident, I have completed my first semester as an MFA candidate in Columbia College Chicago’s Creative Nonfiction Program.  As I write this, I look at a picture of two new friends, Adry and Naomi, and I at a party making the duck face.  I wish someone could have shown me that picture on those sleepless nights in late August.  However, I had to relearn the old lesson that things rarely turn out as disastrous as I imagine.

I was guided through this semester by good friends, professors, and family who held my hand every step of the way.  Mom picked me up from school every Wednesday night because I would have had to wait two hours for the train.  Jenny, David, and Suzanne taught me how to read carefully, write effectively, and teach passionately.  My peers coaxed me out of my shell and invited me to study sessions, readings, and parties. 

This semester I had to relearn the benefits of discomfort.  Susan Sontag said, “A free life is one in which you are willing to be uncomfortable some of the time and insecure some of the time.”  I’d have to say I lived about as free a life as I ever have these past three months, experiencing various degrees of anxiety from the end of August until my second essay went through workshop on Halloween.  I would rather have gum surgery than repeat that process again, but I grew more in those two months, as well as this past month, than I did in the last two years.  I learned that the fulfilling life is not one where you take the easy way out, but the one where you do something you might fail at. 

My writing was not as good as I thought it would be, but still better than it’s ever been.  I’ve learned that not every essay has to read like a novel, and that it’s ok to write about that time on the train, or losing your friend.  I have also relearned the importance of surrounding myself with people more intelligent and more talented than I am, because they all taught me how to be a better writer.  I am finding my own voice by looking for the voices of my peers and professors in their writing.

My work is praised and my confidence rises: I am becoming a better writer.  My work is critiqued and my ego is bruised: I am becoming a better writer.  One professor said that workshop is a great place to crash and burn, and I have.  My friends have shown me how to put the pieces back together.

So the next cavalcade of anxieties is waiting around the corner.  I will be teaching some unsuspecting undergrads next semester and I will be submitting new work to new eyes for new praise and critique.  I will have to relearn the old lessons.  I am terrified and I am elated.

The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling

"But who could bear to know which stars were already dead, she thought, blinking up at the night sky, could anybody stand to know that they all were?"-J.K. Rowling

She’s lost her touch I thought to myself as I read the first few chapters of The Casual Vacancy.  This book, filled with despicable characters and foul language that read like a Jerry Springer transcript could not have possibly been written by the woman who made me love reading.  As much as I’d wanted to, I did not like J.K. Rowling’s new book--but I kept at it.  I felt that I somehow owed it to her to read the book in an act of loyalty, and as a thank you for everything she’d unwittingly done for me over the last 13 years.  So I read on about the death of a parish councilor in the village of Pagford, and how lives would be destroyed if the wrong person filled his seat on the council.

I kept reading, and I fell in love with the broken people created by the same woman who brought Harry, Ron, and Hermione into my life.  The Casual Vacancy is a “comic tragedy” to quote Rowling; it incorporates her easy humor while still being one of the saddest books I’ve ever read.  This story does not have a happy ending, but it does have a realistic one.  Good doesn’t conquer evil, but it certainly gives evil a run for its money.

Despite the differences between The Casual Vacancy and the Harry Potter books, there is still something distinctly “Rowling” about this novel.  It’s written in third person, and there are those long, vivid descriptions of people and places.  If there is one thing that she excels at it is setting the scene.  There are characters we love, characters we despise, and characters we find so much of ourselves in.  There is also that ever-present battle of good vs. evil, but things aren’t as black and white now as they were in her previous books.

Although a work of fiction, there is also a lot of fact in this book and it’s obvious that Rowling did a tremendous amount of research.  There is also quite a bit of Rowling’s own life nestled between the pages.  She portrays poverty in a way I’ve never thought about it before.  All the romanticism of being being poor and living by your wits is gone, and you get the insider’s look into a world of constant uncertainty and unhappiness.  

Rowling also pulls from her own life by focusing on the lives of teenagers in a much darker way than in the Harry Potter books.  There’s cutting, drug use, sex, abuse: things teens shouldn’t be exposed to but are nevertheless.  There are also numerous pop culture references and I assume that Rowling looked to her teenage daughter for guidance during these moments.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is also addressed extensively throughout the book.  Rowling battled OCD in her teen years (most people are diagnosed with OCD at 19), and has said she had to do a lot of re-checking and rituals, but doesn’t feel the need to anymore.  OCD is an issue close to me and I’m glad that Rowling addressed it in her book.  I’m hoping that it can show people without the disorder just how debilitating it can be, and that people with the disorder are not alone.

Despite all my initial misgivings, I was sad when The Casual Vacancy ended.  I wanted to know more about the people of Pagford, not because I was dissatisfied with the ending, but because they had become such an important part of my life.  Although there can never be another Harry Potter series, this book is good enough to stand on its own.  It’s a book Rowling is proud of and a book I think she should be proud of.  She showed everyone, including me, that there was a whole other side to her than the one she’d shown us for all these years.

I've Really Gone And Done It Now

Tomorrow I begin my MFA at Columbia College so I've been spending the day dry heaving, throwing up, having diarrhea, and unexpectedly sobbing. I realize I already lost half of you with that last sentence, but for those of you still willing to go along with me, good for you! I'm hoping by writing about this potentially successful and possibly embarrassing situation I can get some of the nervousness out of my system.

For those of you who don't know, I've decided to earn a degree in Creative Writing-Nonfiction and try to make a go of being a professional writer. I chose nonfiction because although I do enjoy making up stories, I always run into a dead end I can't get myself out of in fiction writing. There are about six novels saved on my computer that are all about three pages long, but nonfiction always comes easily.

I applied to Columbia because although I didn't think I would get in, I wanted to at least say, "I tried." Columbia (bless their little hearts) actually saw some potential in me, and I've spent this past week puttering around the house, clutching my head, and thinking, "How did I get myself into this?"

Every time the negative thoughts come into my head I just remind myself of all the writers out there who doubt themselves. Even the best wonder if their next endeavor will be a success or failure. I've been reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and she focuses a lot on the self doubt of writers which turns down my inner terror a few notches.

Columbia does have a great program though. The current students have been so welcoming, and the faculty have been equally gracious.  There are ten new students which seems like the perfect setup for an Agatha Christie novel. I'm only taking three courses this semester, which will mean a mere 90 hours of homework every week. I think that with the right amout of confidence and Xanax I might just be able to pull the whole thing off, and even if I don't, at least I can say, "I tried."

Thanks, I feel better now.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

“‘It doesn’t matter that you didn’t believe in us,’ said Mr. Ibis, ‘We believed in you.’”-American Gods by Neil Gaiman

I’m always fascinated by how one author can lead you to another. When I read Neil Gaiman’s blurb on the back of Jenny Lawson’s Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, I had no idea who he was. I know. It’s shocking. Just shocking. It’s the truth though. Anyway, I kept Gaiman’s name stored in the back of my mind, and while at a bookstore in San Francisco, I spotted a stack of American Gods: The Tenth Anniversary Edition and decided to see what Mr. Gaiman was all about. All the books were signed in fountain pen ink (I’m guessing Montblanc Bordeaux, but I’m not certain) and I instantly became a fan of Gaiman for that fact alone. I bought a copy of his book and was intrigued that much of the story takes place in the Midwest. The plot revolves around ex-con Shadow whose wife dies just before his release and return to Eagle Point, Indiana. Matters are made stranger by a Mr. Wednesday who practically stalks Shadow in an attempt to hire him as a body guard. With no other options, Shadow accepts Wednesday’s offer and enters a surreal world where the gods of the old world barely survive in an age of modern technology where people sacrifice time to television sets instead of animals at altars. 

Throughout the first fifty pages of Gods I was convinced that I was not intelligent or cultured enough to understand the book: it was just weird. I understood that this was a fantasy novel with elements of horror, but the complexity of Gaiman’s writing left me feeling a little less superior about my literary background, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Fortunately, I am not one to give up on a book and once I delved further into the story things started coming together and I realized we aren’t meant to understand everything Gaiman is trying to say right out of the gate. Shadow isn’t even sure what’s going on, so why should we?

When discussing the Tenth Anniversary Edition it is crucial to point out why this text is more than just a reprint with a fancy new dust jacket; it’s actually a different text from the original American Gods with an additional two thousand words. I’ve never read the original version, but I suspect there’s something of value missing from it because there is no fluff in this new edition. The publisher also included an essay about the novel written by Gaiman, addressing the issue of being an Englishman writing about American culture. His words are poignant and it reinforces the fact that writers can write compelling work about places, people, things, and events they never experienced first hand.

Although often perceived as a serious author, Gaiman made me laugh out loud on several occasions. Mr. Wednesday gets most of the chuckles with snide comments like telling Shadow that mead, “tastes like a drunken diabetic’s piss.” Wednesday is one of those wonderful characters who is completely devoid of morals, but you always want to succeed.

If you enjoy American Gods you’ll have plenty more to choose from in Gaiman’s prolific body of work. His novel Anansi Boys is a spinoff of Gods  and focuses on the character of Mr. Nancy and his sons. It’s not exactly a sequel, but more like what The Ropers was to Three’s Company...except enjoyable.

Writing such unusual and quirky books, Gaiman himself is an interesting person to research. Rather than living in an LA McMansion or a New York penthouse like some celebrity authors, Gaiman’s primary residence is a Victorian home in rural Minnesota which he refers to as his “Addams Family House.” He also has a small writing studio in the woods behind his home where he writes his stories longhand using a fountain pen. He also has a cavernous library as all good writers should.

I believe that he is also kind. He responds often to fans via Twitter and email, and regularly promotes Kickstarter projects in which he has nothing to gain. I also read on a writing forum that when a young author asked other authors for career advice on another forum, Gaiman was the only person to respond. That’s pretty badass though, to have your question answered by Neil Gaiman.

Gaiman’s books are just about everywhere so please pick up a copy of American Gods when you can and let the weird wash over you.

Author Encounters: Jenny Lawson

Last Saturday was the best in recent memory.  I had the chance to attend the Printer’s Row Lit Fest in downtown Chicago and meet Jenny Lawson who many of you know as ‘The Bloggess’.  Printer’s Row was the last event on the third leg of Jenny’s book tour and I thought I would have a nervous breakdown when her Sunday appearance sold out in less than a day.  I was happy for Jenny that so many people wanted to come see her, but I was a little stabby nonetheless.  

Favors were called in and my very sweet friend  Stephanie Precourt even tried to get a ticket for me, but luck was on the side of the ticketless misfits because Jenny graciously added a Saturday appearance to her schedule.  So on Saturday morning Mom, Dad (he didn’t know what the hell he was getting himself into), and I headed up to Chicago and found Center Stage, where Jenny would be appearing, amid a see of books, authors, publishers, and voracious readers.  It was both overwhelming yet wonderful, and I spent a little time browsing before heading back to Center Stage to ensure a spot at the head of the line because I’m selfish like that.  

I was glad I arrived early because Jenny had a great opening act: an author named Sapphire who called all her characters ‘motherfuckers’ and probably didn’t realize she was Jenny’s opening act.  Anyway, no sooner had Sapphire finished her rant--I mean reading--did Jenny casually walk onto the stage and begin setting up for her reading.  It was sort of a pre-show watching Jenny wrap Copernicus the Homicidal Monkey around her microphone and lining up all her pill bottles on the table which created a disturbing yet festive display.  One of Jenny’s readers brought up a fan for her since it was unbearably hot and as Jenny fanned herself she said in that sweet Southern voice of hers, “All I need is a pool boy up here.” I thought about volunteering, but nobody wants to see me with my shirt off. Trust me.

When Jenny officially took the stage there were deafening applause of the rock concert variety.  Jenny was humble and admittedly surprised by the size of the crowd (over a hundred). For our earhole pleasure, Jenny read “The Psychopath on the Other Side of the Bathroom Door” which also happens to be one of my favorite chapters from her book.  She also added little side notes during the reading pertaining to this chapter including “No one told me coffee was a laxative...I know now,” and “Pepto Bismol contacted me. They were not pleased.” The latter was in reference to her being one of the one in six people who’s tongue turns black when they drink the aforementioned antidiarrheal. 

The reading was followed by a fun and enlightening Q & A section where Jenny promised to answer anything except algebra questions. I love learning about writers, about how they write and what they read. Jenny answered both questions saying that she loves Neil Gaiman, Ray Bradbury, Shirley Jackson, and Dorothy Parker. She also explained that, “writing is super lonely which is why I love blogging.” She addressed her anxiety disorder and told us that although she couldn’t always open up to people when she was growing up, “I always felt like I could open up to a book,” which is something a lot of us can relate to I’m sure. 

Jenny also informed us that she is working on another book that will focus more on mental illness and self harm.  Additionally, she’s writing a children’s book which I can’t wait to buy for my goddaughter (and myself). 

The Q&A ended all too soon and I suddenly found myself in the middle of an insanely long signing line. While waiting in line I was able to see Jenny’s great generosity and patience first hand.  She talked to everyone, signed everything, and took pictures with all her fans. No one was rushed and it was well worth the wait when I spoke with her. It surprised me how relaxed I was talking to Jenny.  I wondered if perhaps I was getting a Xanax contact high since I hadn’t taken any that day, but I think it was just Jenny’s positive and calming aura that just let the words flow out of me so that I could say everything I needed to say to her.

We had a great day at Printer’s Row and I’ll blog about the rest of the day soon, but today I wanted to focus on Jenny and the love she so readily gives to her fans.