Archive for the ‘Author Birthday Bash’ Category
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AUTHOR JENNIFER WEINER!
In honor of Jennifer Weiner’s birthday, I’m sharing an excerpt from her work about a mother’s first glimpse her new baby. I was torn when it came to choosing a passage to celebrate. If you read my blog on a regular basis or have read any of my fiction, you probably guessed how much I love food. And Jennifer Weiner has some delicious dish descriptions in her narrative. But, once again, I decided it more fitting to choose something that captures a new life and one author’s expression of a paradoxically universal and unique experience of the day a baby is born.
They eased me into a wheelchair, sore and stitched up, hurting all over, and wheeled me to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I couldn’t go in, they explained, but I could see her through the window. A nurse pointed her out. “There,” she said, gesturing.
I leaned so close my forehead pressed on the glass. She was so small. A wrinkled pink grapefruit. Limbs no bigger than my pinky, hands the size of my thumbnail, a head the size of a smallish nectarine. Tiny eyes squinched shut, a look of outrage on her face. A dusting of black fuzz on top of her head, a nondescript beige-ish hat on top of that. “She weighs almost three pounds,” the nurse who was pushing me said.
Baby, I whispered, and tapped my fingers against the windows, drumming a soft rhythm. She hadn’t been moving, but when I tapped she pinwheeled her arms. Waving at me, I imagined. Hi, baby, I said. Excerpt, Good In Bed by Jennifer Weiner.
If you like Jennifer Weiner’s books, recommend your favorite to me! I’m listening!
Take care,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
Happy Birthday Penelope Lively!
Happy Birthday to Penelope Lively! She’s a contemporary Booker Award and National Book Award-winning author. I love reading her work. She’s an expert in delving deep into character and in crafting beautifully written prose. To celebrate her special day, I chose an excerpt from The Photograph, one my favorites of her work. Although, I hope she celebrates with more festive affair than did her character, Glyn!
“It is Glyn’s birthday. He does not remember this until he notices the date on his newspaper. Birthdays never rated highly with Glyn. But he knows how old he is—sixty-two. This reminder of the relentless process is unwelcome. The passage of time is indeed his stock-in-trade, but when applied personally it is as though there were someone out there gleefully chuckling: You too—oh, dear me, yes, you too.
It is Saturday. He plans a weekend dealing with paperwork and ordering his thoughts on a projected article. This will be therapeutic. Glyn is in a curious state these days. He recognizes this, knows that he is not operating normally, that application requires an effort, that his mind wanders, that it is willful, that he cannot seem to control its direction. He has always been able to work; work has been the imperative, ever since he can remember. He has been able to switch into work mode under any circumstances. No, it is not like that. He stares for long minutes at the screen, he does not turn the pages of the book in his hand, or he reads without comprehension.
Kath. Her fault….” End of Excerpt, The Photograph by Penelope Lively
Join me next Wednesday for another Fodder for Fiction Author Birthday Bash!
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
Fodder for Fiction Birthday Bash: John Irving
by Lisa Lipkind Leibow, Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
I can barely form words to express my excitement over celebrating the birthday of one of my favorite authors of all times. John Irving is the king of quirky characters. I read The Hotel New Hampshire when I was a teen, and giggled at the stinky dog named Sorrow, marveled at the odd family, and related to the familiar New England setting. I had that sweet-but-empty feeling at the last page when I don’t want a fantastic book to end. He’s the first author I ever set out to read everything he ever wrote – just for fun, not because a teacher had assigned it. To this day, when he has something new in the works, I rush out to buy it. My favorites of the bunch are The World According to Garp, A Prayer for Owen Meany, and Cider House Rules.
In honor of John Irving, I’m sharing one of my favorite first paragraph hooks, ever! And since it deals with what happens when the boys of the St. Cloud’s Orphanage are born, I thought it fitting to celebrate the birthday of John Irving, the first author I ever read who I immediately sought out everything he ever wrote. I love his quirky characters so much!
“In the hospital of the orphanage—the boys’ division at St. Cloud’s, Maine—town nurses were in charge of naming the new babies and checking htat their little penises were healing from the obligatory circumcision. In those days (in 192_), all boys born at St. Cloud’s were circumcised because the orphanage physician had experienced some difficulty in treating uncircumcised soldiers, for this and for that, in World War I. The doctor, who was also the director of the boys’ division, was not a religious man; circumcision was not a rite with him—it was a strictly medical act, performed for hygienic reasons. His name was Wilbur larch, which, except for the scent of ether that always accompanied him, reminded one of the nurses of the tough, durable wood of the coniferous tree of that name. She hated, however, the ridiculous name of Wilber, and took offense at the silliness of combining a word like Wilbur with something as substantial as a tree.” Excerpt, The Cider House Rules by John Irving.
Help me celebrate one of my favorite author’s special day by sharing something you love about his work. Check out his official site for more information about his novels, including his latest, Last Night in Twisted River. http://www.John-Irving.com
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN!
Author Birthday Bash for Toni Morrison!
This week at Fodder for Fiction I’m celebrating Toni Morrison’s birthday! Happy Birthday! To honor her, I’m sharing an excerpt from her work that made me think of how a birthday means something different to a mother than it does for a child. Enjoy!
“The good news, however, was that Halle got married and had a baby coming. She fixed on that and her own brand of preaching, having made up her mind about what to do with the heart that started beating the minute she crossed the Ohio River. And it worked out, worked out just fine, until she got proud and let herself be overwhelmed by the sight of her daughter-in-law and Halle’s children—one of whom was born on the way—and have a celebration of blackberries that put Christmas to shame. Now she stood in the garden smelling disapproval, feeling a dark and coming thing, and seeing high-topped shoes that she didn’t like the look of at all. At all.” Beloved by Toni Morrison
Show Toni Morrison some love for her special day! Tell us about your favorite Toni Morrison read!
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALICE WALKER!
I’m thrilled to honor Alice Walker! I hope she has a wonderful birthday this week! I am a great fan of The Color Purple. The novel, written in letters is a masterpiece. It’s translation to film and even to the musical stage only served to strengthen my bond with this work of art. The Temple of My Familiar and Possessing the Secret of Joy also touched my soul. However, to celebrate her birthday, I decided to share an excerpt from a recent book of poetry. I think it captures the wonderful way we connect with those who came before us as we age.
I am connected
To all
Of this
By
My great
Grandmother’s Native
Name
Tallulah, i.e.,
Basket maker,
Which
Turning fifty
I began claiming As
My own
As I claim My kinswoman
Spider &
The brilliant
Ancestral
Body
Of Her art.
End of Excerpt the Moment I Saw Her, a poem in Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth: New Poems by Alice Walker.
Thank you for the wonderful gifts you have given to all of us with your prose and poetry, Alice! Many happy returns of the day!
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AYN RAND
The insights Ayn Rand provides into human nature through her characters’ innermost thoughts and behavior is incredible to me. I’m guessing she may have been suspicious of my celebrating her birthday with a party. And the excerpt below illustrates just how putting on heirs might have ulterior motives. However, I assure you. I’m merely honoring Ayn Rand as one of the great masters whose work has earned the claim of modern classic. Happy Birthday Ayn Rand!
“Here. … Boy, you look fine! Better than ever. How do you do it, you lucky bastard? I have so many things to tell you! How did it go down in Washington? Everything all right?” And before Keating could answer, Francon rushed on: “Something dreadful’s happened to me. Most disappointing. Do you remember Lili Landau? I thought I was ll set with her, but last time I saw her, did I get the cold shoulder! Do you know who’s got her? You’ll be surprised. Gail Wynand, no less! The girl’s flying high. You should see her pictures and her legs all over his newspapers. Will it help her show or won’t it! What can I offer against that? And do you know what he’s done? Remember how she always said that nobody could give her what she wanted most—her childhood home, the dear little Austrian village where she was born? Well, Wynand bought it!—and had it assembled again down on the Hudson, and there it stands now, cobbles, church, apple trees, pigsties and all! Then he springs it on Lili, two weeks ago. Wouldn’t you just know it? If the King of Babylon could get hanging gardens for his homesick lady, why not Gail Wynand? Lili’s all smiles and gratitude—but the poor girl was really miserable. She’d have much preferred a mink coat. She never wanted the damn village. And Wynand knew it, too. But there it stands, on the Hudson. Last week, he gave a party for her, right there, in that village—a costume party, with Mr. Wynand dressed as Cesare Borgia—wouldn’t he, though?—and what a party!—if you can believe what you hear, but you know how it is, you can never prove anything on Wynand. Then what does he do the next day but pose up there himself with little schoolchildren who’d never seen an Austrian village—the philanthropist!—and plasters the photos all over his papers with plenty of sob stuff about educational values, and gets mush notes from women’s clubs! I’d like to know what he’ll do with the village when he gets rid of Lili! He will, you know, they never last long with him. Do you think I’ll have a chance with her then?”
Excerpt, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Help me celebrate Ayn Rand’s birthday by leaving a comment! I can’t wait to hear from you.
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
Celebrating Virginia Woolf’s Birthday!
This week brings us a wonderful celebration of Virginia Woolf’s birthday.
Nobody writes like that anymore — wonderful. One of my first reads of 2010 was Mrs. Dalloway. I wanted to read it because of it’s prominent influence on The Hours. As a writer, I read it with an eye toward the craft. It was fascinating to read an omniscient narrative. Contemporary style shuns head-hopping but Virginia Woolf delved into so many characters’ views, here. I really enjoyed the experience of learning about Clarissa Dalloway through all of the characters she encountered during the day of her party.
Clarissa Dalloway, the quintessential party-thrower is the perfect character to show a glimpse of in celebration of Virginia Woolf’s birthday. Here’s an excerpt.
“Hullo Elizabeth!” cried Peter, stuffing his handkerchief in his pocket, going quickly to her, saying “Goodbye, Clarissa” without looking at her, leaving the room quickly, running downstairs, and opening the hall door.
“Peter, Peter!” cried Clarissa, following him out onto the landing. “My party to-night! Remember my party to-night!” she cried, having to raise her voice against the roar of the open air, and overwhelmed by the traffic and the sound of all the clocks striking, her voice crying “Remember my party to-night!” sounded frail and thin and very far away as Peter shut the door.
Remember my party. Remember my party, said Peter Walsh as he stepped down the street, speaking to himself rhythmically, in time with the flow of the sound, the direct downright sound of Big Ben striking the half-hour. (The leaden circles dissolved in the air.) Oh these parties, he thought; Clarissa’s parties. Why does she give these parties, he thought. Not that he blamed her or this effigy of a man in a tail-coat with a carnation in his button-hole coming towards him. Only one person in the world could be as he was, in love. And there he was, this fortunate man, himself, reflected in the plate-glass window of a motor-car manufacturer in Victoria Street. All India lay behind him; plains, mountains; epidemics of cholera; a district twice as big as Ireland; decisions he had come to alone—he, Peter Walsh; who was now really for the first time in his life, in love. Clarissa had grown hard, he thought; and a trifle sentimental into the bargain, he suspected, looking at the great motor-cars capable of dowing—how many miles on how many gallons? For he had a turn for mechanics; had invented a plough in his district, had ordered wheel-barrows from England, but the coolies wouldn’t use them, all of which Clarissa knew nothing whatever about.
The way she said “Here is my Elizabeth!”—that annoyed him. Why not “Here’s Elizabeth” simply? It was insincere. And Elizabeth didn’t like it either. (Still the last tremors of the great booming voice shook the air round him; the half-hour; still early; only half-past eleven still.) For he understood young people; he liked them. There was always something cold in Clarissa, he thought. She had always, even as a girl, a sort of timidity, which in middle age becomes conventionality, and then it’s all up, it’s all up, he thought, looking rather drearily into the glassy depths, and wondering whether by calling at that hour he had annoyed her; overcome with shame suddenly at having been a fool; wept; been emotional; told her everything, as usual, as usual.” Excerpt, Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
I hope you enjoyed this celebration of the life and beautiful writing of one of the masters of them all, Virginia Woolf.
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
FODDER FOR FICTION AUTHOR BIRTHDAY BASH: What Kind Of Birthday Celebration Would Poe Want?
Is it Wednesday already? That means it’s time to celebrate another author birthday at Fodder for Fiction. I’m beginning to enjoy this. This week’s birthday challenge presents a challenge for finding just the right excerpt to capture the spirit of a birthday celebration. Edgar Allen Poe would be 201 years old if he were alive today, and this father of psychological thriller, science fiction, and master of the spooky short story is one of my favorites. No matter how many times I read The Telltale Heart, I can hear the frightening beat right along with the guilt-ridden murderer!
The excerpt I’ve chosen involves an invitation to a party of sorts. Here it is,
“I could not have completed my third snore when there came a furious ringing at the street-door bell, and then an impatient thumping at the knocker, which awakened me at once. In a minute afterward and while I was still rubbing my eyes, my wife thrust in my face a note from my old friend, Doctor Ponnonner. It ran thus:
Come to me by all means, my dear good friend, as soon as you receive this. Come and help us to rejoice. At last, by long persevering diplomacy, I have gained assent of the Directors of the City Museum, to my examination of the Mummy—you know the one I mean. I have permission to unswathe it and open it, if desirable. A few friends only will be present—you of course. The Mummy is now at my house, and we shall begin to unroll it at eleven to-night.
Yours ever,
PONNONNER”
Excerpt from Some Words with a Mummy by Edgar Allen Poe
Don’t you agree that this is precisely the type of party Poe would wish to attend on his birthday? Positively Spooky!
In honor of Poe’s birthday share some memories of your favorite Edgar Allen Poe story.
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
Fodder for Fiction Author Birthday Bash: JACK LONDON (January 12)
This week on the Fodder for Fiction Author Birthday Bash, we’re celebrating the birthday of Jack London (1876-1916). Spending the winter of 1897 in the Yukon provided the fodder for his first fiction in 1899. From then on, he produced over fifty volumes of stories, novels, and essays. His most famous novel is The Call of the Wild (1903). London’s passage (1907-09) across the Pacific in a small boat provided more fodder for fiction about Polynesian and Melanesian cultures. London’s writing on the subject helped to break the taboo over leprosy and popularized Hawaii as a tourist spot.
London wrote during a time when a new movie industry was born. And he was among the first novelists to see a number of his work made into films.
To celebrate the birthday of the great Jack London, I’ve chosen two quotes attributed to the him that attest to his way with words when it comes to the idea of aging and the fleeting nature of live.
“Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear?” Jack London
“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.” Jack London
Happy Birthday, Jack!
Until tomorrow, best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction
www.LLLeibow.com
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHILIPPA GREGORY!
This is the start of a new feature on Fodder For Fiction. Each week, on Wednesdays, we’ll honor the birthday of an author whose birthday falls during the current week. I’ll kick off the celebration by sharing an excerpt from the author’s work portraying a celebration, party, or festive occasion. I figure we should celebrate each of these great writers’ birthdays with a bash they created!
Our first honored author birthday of 2010, is Philippa Gregory, author so many great works of historical fiction, including The Virgin’s Lover, and The Other Boleyn Girl. I love Philippa Gregory’s ability to bring new readers into the historical fiction genre. What I mean by that is, she uses a delightful prose style and bawdy scenes to make her novels page turners – and the kind of historical fiction that even readers who don’t normally read historical fiction will enjoy.
Happy Birthday, Philippa Gregory! Enjoy the excerpt from a masquerade ball scene she wrote.
It was a great romp in the end, far more fun than I had expected, much more of a play-fight than a dance. George flung rose petals at me and I drenched him with a shower of rosewater. The choristers were just little boys and they got overexcited and attacked the knights and were swing off their feet and spun around and dumped, dizzy and giggly, on the ground. When we ladies came out from the castle and danced with the mystery knights it was the tallest knight who came to dance with me, the king himself, and I, still breathless from my battle with George, and with rose petals in my headdress and my hair, and sugared fruit tumbling out of the folds of my gown, found that I was laughing and giving my hand to him, and dancing with him as if he were an ordinary man and I little more than a kitchen maid at a country romp.
When the signal for the unmasking should have come the king cried out: “Play on! Let’s dance some more!” and instead of turning and taking another partner he led me out again, a country dance when we went had to hand and I could see his eyes gleaming at me through the slits in his golden mask. Reckless and laughing, I smiled back up at him and let that sunny approbation sink into my skin.
The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory
Feel free to post your own warm wishes to Philippa on her special day.
Best to you,
Lisa Lipkind Leibow
Author of Smart Women’s Fiction