Literary Readings: Nicole Krauss and Cynthia Ozick (11/8/2010)

brittany — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

New York, New York

During a recent reading of their works at the 92nd Street Y, Nicole Krauss and Cynthia Ozick proved as charming and witty in person as their words are on the page. Stepping up to the podium to read from their latest works, the authors were self-effacing, deferential, and clever. The event, which featured brief introductions to the authors, readings of excerpts from their latest works, and a short Q&A segment, proved an insightful examination of the writing process. The event programs featured reproductions of the authors’ manuscript pages, allowing the audience a gaze into the editing process. It was a thoughtful touch that added to the richness of the event.

Ozick and Krauss were introduced before each read from her latest work. Professor Nathan Englander delivered a thoughtful introduction to Krauss’s work, referencing her “radiant thoughtfulness” and the success of her second novel The History of Love. Krauss stepped up to the podium, seemingly overwhelmed by Englander’s heady praise. As she prepared to read an excerpt from her novel Great House, Krauss reached for a glass of water, quipping: “My water has my name on it. I drank from Cynthia’s.” As she began to read aloud, however, Krauss’s humor was replaced by her evocative prose, rich language, and lilting voice. The excerpt she read concerned a father’s estranged son, the nature of mortality, and the acceptance of death. As Krauss’s voice filled the auditorium, her words mesmerized the audience into a quiet stillness.

Krauss’s reading was followed by a brief introduction to Ozick’s work, provided by writer Lore Segal. Ozick, a bespectacled white-haired woman, stepped up to the podium and promptly disappeared behind it. Her head barely visible behind her totem, she remarked on its size. Smilingly wryly, she suggested that she and the thirty-something Krauss represented a “May/December romance,” though she wished she were a bit less December. Reading a portion of her latest work, the novel Foreign Bodies, Ozick was in her element, relishing the cleverness of her words, emphasizing the humor in her work. Based on the Henry James novel The Ambassadors, Ozick’s work was sharp and quick, a rich examination of what it means to be American, and to feel alienated from one’s own nation.

A short and insightful Q&A segment followed the readings and allowed the authors to speak about the nature of the writing process. Krauss and Ozick, who both began as poets, spoke especially eloquently on the difference between the poetic and novel forms. As Krauss noted, “Poetry, which seems so small and yet is something that can contain infinity [has this] sense of seeming perfection, while a novel is inherently flawed.” Krauss finds this imperfection satisfying, suggesting artfully, “poetry is as a room,” while novels are “houses you can live in.” Ozick noted that she finds most contemporary poetry dissatisfying because it is too casual, and does not seek the “transcendence” inherent in the works of classical poets like Robert Frost.

Though Krauss suggests the novel is inherently flawed, it is hard to find fault in either her and Ozick’s novels. Throughout their works, their use of language is particular, evocative, and compelling. If novels are houses, then clearly Krauss and Ozick are skilled architects—the houses they design are well worth a visit.

Written by: Joanna Chlebus, November 13th 2010

Reading Is My Window: Books and the Art of Reading in Women’s Prisons

admin — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Megan Sweeney

University of North Carolina Press

“Sometimes, I think they forget the women.” One seemingly simple statement at the start of this book—spoken by the chief librarian for the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction—serves to explain the importance of a text like Reading Is My Window. What began for Megan Sweeney as a dissertation on prisoners’ relationships with true crime books evolved into a years-long study of analyzing the reading patterns of the occupants of several women’s prisons across the country.

In addition to conducting 245 individual interviews with female prisoners, Sweeney also facilitated fifty-one book group discussions. The interviews and interactions with the prisoners make up at least half of the book, so by the second chapter, you’ll find yourself engaging with the prisoners and their individual stories of mental, physical, and sexual abuse, along with drug use. The stories that emerge from these interviews and discussions offer a fascinating insight into how the women manage to regain a kind of humanity through reading while residing in an institution determined to dehumanize them. Solo, Monique, and Denise are among the many who will stay with you long after the last page, and rather than pitying them, Sweeney’s nuanced descriptions of each prisoner’s personality helps you understand that they are actively making their world better through reading, even if their world will never interact with the one outside the prison walls.

Sweeney structures her study through the investigation of three specific genres: urban fiction, narratives of victimization, and self-help books. She also examines the aspect of community building through prison book clubs, and the material comfort that comes from the mere act of holding a book—something that we in the free world take for granted. While those topics make Reading Is My Window an interesting and provocative read, the excerpted interviews are what take the book out of being purely academic and ground it in the personal.

Far too often, it is easy to do just what the chief librarian from Ohio said: forget the women. Prisoners are already a population of people that we often turn away from, so when the modifier of “woman” (and often “African American”) is added to that, remembering them as people who have worth becomes even less of a priority. By telling these women’s stories and taking them out of the institution, Sweeney takes the first step in driving home the point that if we forget these women, we may as well forget ourselves.

Reading Is My Window serves as a call to action. Sweeney spares no detail in describing the shoddy state of penal library systems, pointing out that many prison administrations see books as rewards for good behavior rather than necessary tools for prisoner rehabilitation. It’s safe to say that, after reading this book, you’ll want to consult the list of organizations that provide books to prisoners Sweeney includes at the end of the book to see how you can help advance the worthy cause of prison literacy.

Written by: Alyssa Vincent, April 24th 2010