The Joyce and The Carol and The Oates
Yesterday, I got the--almost certainly once in a lifetime--chance to see Joyce Carol Oates speak. She is, and has been for the past four years, my favorite contemporary author. I own around 2o of her books, a number unmatched by any author in my collection. I've read at least ten of her works, and I did an independent study on her fiction in my junior year of college.
In other words, I have it bad for JCO.
When I found out, about a month ago, that she was going to be speaking, for free, at a university 120 miles from my house, I totally freaked. I started making immediate plans. At first, I wasn't entirely hopeful, as it has been difficult for me to travel to see authors before.
But it didn't take me too long to realize that it was possible for me to go, so I was determined to do it. I told my cousin, who goes to this university, about it, and he also signed up for the public class where she would be speaking. And yesterday, at 3:10, I left my house and drove to see her.
I felt this bizarro jumble of feelings as I drove there--hyperexcitement, apprehension, curiosity. I was kind of scared to see hear her speak, as I had her built up in my head as this marvelous lyrical person--what if it just wasn't so.
But, man, JCO did not disappoint. She has a softly lilting voice and a true passion for her writing. She expressed a profound relationship between herself and her characters--describing one she loves and is drawn too, she conceded that she sometimes finds her exasperating. Describing the feelings one gets at the falls, describing people who have a "sort of vertigo" in high places, a compulsion to jump--one that I feel, and that she described perfectly. She explained character origins, spoke eloquently of one character's basis in Mike Tyson, who she met when he was a young teenaged boxer, a man who is now unrecognizable in the face of his current iteration.
At the end of her beautiful talk, we lined up, books clutched in our hands for signing. Since I do own 20 of her books, it was a hard decision to make as to which ones to have her sign. I had not even made the choice when I left the house, shoving four of them in my bag and pausing, often, along the way to consider my options.
I decided on two books, one a small collection of essays on writing and the other, one of her early novels, which I own in its first--and possibly only--edition in paperback.
The Faith of a Writer was a gift from Allison two Christmases ago, when we were roommates [she also gave me one of JCO's children books that year]. It is the best book on writing I've ever read, and it is elegant in its description of what the writer needs, that faith to keep going. I knew it was the right choice when I pulled it off the shelf, and out of the pages fell a picture of me and two friends with whom I am no longer on speaking terms. I felt a very real, sudden, swift sadness--and I knew that was one of the books I needed to have signed.
The other book I chose was Wonderland, one of her early novels about a man who becomes a doctor. The books has a lot of odd, fucked-up things in it, and I had no doubt when I was reading it that I never wanted to become like this doctor, self-righteous and controlling. But I think a lot of people are like this doctor, and my professor chose it for me to read because he knew it would resonate in my life: and it does. The front cover is held on by a yellowed piece of scotch tape from a previous owner, which only adds to what I consider to be its charm.
In line to meet her, I got quite involved in conversation with the woman behind me, an obvious literature fanatic who had yet to read any Oates. I recommended some of my favorites by her, and she commented on the books in my hand. As we wrapped up our conversation, I realized that I was five people away from Oates, and my mind froze. When I moved in front of her, I told her how much I enjoy her writing, and she asked me if I was a student there. We proceeded to have a conversation that culminated by her asking me what I wanted to do in medicine, and I told Joyce Carol Oates that I want to be an Ob/Gyn. Probably not the kind of statement she gets every day, which I kind of like.
When describing the experience afterward, the only adjectives I could think to use involved the stem "Magic." She was magical. Her speech was magical. The day was magical. A literal dream come true.
In other words, I have it bad for JCO.
When I found out, about a month ago, that she was going to be speaking, for free, at a university 120 miles from my house, I totally freaked. I started making immediate plans. At first, I wasn't entirely hopeful, as it has been difficult for me to travel to see authors before.
But it didn't take me too long to realize that it was possible for me to go, so I was determined to do it. I told my cousin, who goes to this university, about it, and he also signed up for the public class where she would be speaking. And yesterday, at 3:10, I left my house and drove to see her.
I felt this bizarro jumble of feelings as I drove there--hyperexcitement, apprehension, curiosity. I was kind of scared to see hear her speak, as I had her built up in my head as this marvelous lyrical person--what if it just wasn't so.
But, man, JCO did not disappoint. She has a softly lilting voice and a true passion for her writing. She expressed a profound relationship between herself and her characters--describing one she loves and is drawn too, she conceded that she sometimes finds her exasperating. Describing the feelings one gets at the falls, describing people who have a "sort of vertigo" in high places, a compulsion to jump--one that I feel, and that she described perfectly. She explained character origins, spoke eloquently of one character's basis in Mike Tyson, who she met when he was a young teenaged boxer, a man who is now unrecognizable in the face of his current iteration.
At the end of her beautiful talk, we lined up, books clutched in our hands for signing. Since I do own 20 of her books, it was a hard decision to make as to which ones to have her sign. I had not even made the choice when I left the house, shoving four of them in my bag and pausing, often, along the way to consider my options.
I decided on two books, one a small collection of essays on writing and the other, one of her early novels, which I own in its first--and possibly only--edition in paperback.
The Faith of a Writer was a gift from Allison two Christmases ago, when we were roommates [she also gave me one of JCO's children books that year]. It is the best book on writing I've ever read, and it is elegant in its description of what the writer needs, that faith to keep going. I knew it was the right choice when I pulled it off the shelf, and out of the pages fell a picture of me and two friends with whom I am no longer on speaking terms. I felt a very real, sudden, swift sadness--and I knew that was one of the books I needed to have signed.
The other book I chose was Wonderland, one of her early novels about a man who becomes a doctor. The books has a lot of odd, fucked-up things in it, and I had no doubt when I was reading it that I never wanted to become like this doctor, self-righteous and controlling. But I think a lot of people are like this doctor, and my professor chose it for me to read because he knew it would resonate in my life: and it does. The front cover is held on by a yellowed piece of scotch tape from a previous owner, which only adds to what I consider to be its charm.
In line to meet her, I got quite involved in conversation with the woman behind me, an obvious literature fanatic who had yet to read any Oates. I recommended some of my favorites by her, and she commented on the books in my hand. As we wrapped up our conversation, I realized that I was five people away from Oates, and my mind froze. When I moved in front of her, I told her how much I enjoy her writing, and she asked me if I was a student there. We proceeded to have a conversation that culminated by her asking me what I wanted to do in medicine, and I told Joyce Carol Oates that I want to be an Ob/Gyn. Probably not the kind of statement she gets every day, which I kind of like.
When describing the experience afterward, the only adjectives I could think to use involved the stem "Magic." She was magical. Her speech was magical. The day was magical. A literal dream come true.
posted by Another Chance to Get It Right at
10:54 PM
2 Comments:
I'm glad you had such a great time last night! I wish I could have been there -- instead I froze my ass off in my classroom.
I have never read her either. Or maybe one book sometime that never stuck with me. Where should I start? Though both that you mentioned sound good. I think I might pull Faith of A Writer. Damn. Don't need to spend any more money on books.
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