Archive for the 'Bay Area' Category

In the Bay Area with Beverley Naidoo

Beverley Naidoo with Jessica Powers at Mission High School

Beverley Naidoo with Jessica Powers at Mission High School

Last week, Beverley Naidoo, the acclaimed children’s writer from South Africa, was in the United States as the keynote speaker for the USBBY conference. I was lucky enough to do several events with her in the Bay Area after her talk was through. We presented at two high schools in San Francisco–Mission High School and George Washington High School. We presented on animals in Africa and animals in our books–which is more complicated than you’d think. Animals in my book, This Thing Called the Future, are all presented on a spiritual level when Khosi encounters witchcraft. For Beverley, she refused to write about or think about animals for so long since she remembered how Africans were presented as animals in children’s picture books when she was a child (Babar being a famous example). But recently, she realized that Aesop must have been North African rather than Greek, that his tales are stamped with African-ness, and so she has begun re-telling Aesop’s tales.

On Thursday, we had a presentation and discussion at Stanford, co-sponsored with the Center for African Studies and the Education Department. We talked about the way that stories embed ideas in children, both negative and positive, and we discussed the possible ways books can be used, and the way that both of us awakened (through childhood and beyond) to the social realities around us that have caused both of us to write books that we believe really matter.

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Emily Wing Smith–giveaway of Back When You Were Easier to Love

Emily Wing Smith and J.L. Powers-Kepler's Books

This past week, I had the extraordinary privilege of doing three book events with young adult writer Emily Wing Smith. Our second young adult novels each came out within a week of each other so it seemed like a natural to have her fly out to the Bay Area and do booksignings together.

I met Emily a couple of years ago at the annual SCBWI conference in Los Angeles and fell in love with her immediately, which to be honest, probably happens to everybody who meets Emily. She’s quirky, honest, and beautiful. Spend even just a few minutes with her and you’ll notice that all these random things fall out of her mouth, except it turns out, they’re not exactly random–they’re hilarious critiques on life, herself, her Mormon faith, and the world around her.

It’s no surprise to anybody who knows me that I’m fascinated with religion and Mormonism is no exception. One of the things I love about Emily is how quickly she understands and acknowledges the difference between Mormon culture and Mormon faith. A long long time ago, I left Christianity because I was sick of Christian culture and it seemed to me that 90% of the Christians around me couldn’t distinguish between the culture and the faith. Well, Emily’s had the same experience within Mormonism–but she stuck it out and she stayed. And now she writes about it. Her first novel, The Way He Lived, takes place in Haven, Utah, a town where 96% of the population is Mormon and does things a certain way because “that’s Mormonism.” Her second novel, Back When You Were Easier to Love, is a romantic comedy. It also takes place in Haven–and this book is a more direct analysis of the difference between being Mormon culturally (right down to drinking Sprite all the time) and being Mormon because you agree with the church’s theological teachings. The main character Joy is obsessed with her boyfriend, Barry Manilow, and the fact that she hates hates hates Haven. There’s a road trip, a surprise birthday gift, Las Vegas, and one of those awful open-mic poetry readings that we’ve all suffered through. It’s a book about discovering that the person you thought you loved is not the person you thought he was nor is he the person you love (and most of us have been through that experience.)

The book is funny and awesome and I’m happy to give one copy away to one of my readers. To be entered in the contest, please write about a time in your life when you thought you were in love and found out that maybe things weren’t quite what they seemed. The contest is also taking place on my facebook page, under notes, but I’ll keep track.

I asked Emily to share a few thoughts with me and here they are.

Back When You Were Easier to LoveTell me how you thought of your main character Joy. Is she anything like you? Or totally different?

Readers have used the word “stalkerish” to describe Joy—the same word, ironically, that has been used to describe me! Okay, so maybe not so ironically.  I’ve always been the obsessive type, especially as a teen—about my writing, my friends, and yes, also guys.  A guy, more specifically.  People called me obsessed, but they weren’t bothered by it as much as some readers are bothered by Joy. 

I think some of us don’t want to be reminded of how that kind of obsession exists, because it’s scary and somewhat pathetic to remember being that dependent on someone else for our own happiness.  But for a lot of people, it’s been true at one point or another.  The trick is learning to depend on yourself.  It’s the same for the characters whose journey we share–whether they figure it out in one-third of a book or it takes them the whole thing.

 Don’t name names, but surely you’ve known someone like Zan. (Haven’t we all). Tell us about it!

I met “Zan” in high school.  Actually there were two guys who made up Zan—and one of them actually did wear his grandpa’s shoes!  The other guy did make up his own language and didn’t fit in well with the rest of the student body.  I thought he was cool, but most people didn’t share my opinion.  He ditched town as soon as he could.

 You’ve told me you moved to a town just like Haven when you were about Joy’s age. (Maybe it was Haven, I don’t know.) Was your experience anything like Joy’s? What was it like, going from California to Mormon Utah?

When I was a teenager, I moved to a city almost identical to Haven.  It wasn’t far from where I’d grown up–both areas were suburbs of Salt Lake City–but it was like a different world.  Mormons are divided into congregations (wards) via geographical location.  Instead of asking me where I lived, kids would ask me what ward I was in—before even asking if I was Mormon.  I am Mormon, but I wasn’t used to it being a given.  I wasn’t used to the city’s quirks that were so natural to everyone at my new high school.  It got me wondering: if these quirks were so jarring to me, who had only moved thirty miles, how jarring would they be to someone who’d moved from a different state?  That’s when the character Joy Afterclein was born.

So….why young adult literature?

I’ve wanted to write young adult fiction since the time I was a young adult myself.  I read YA literature in junior high and high school, studied YA literature in college, and specialized in YA literature in graduate school.   I feel the same way a lot of YA authors feel:  that in my heart, I will forever be seventeen years old.

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The San Francisco Anarchist Book Fair

On Saturday, I had a table at San Francisco’s Anarchist Book Fair. I split the table with Corbin Lewars, whose new book, Creating a Life: The Memoir of a Mom and Writer in the Making, just came out with Catalyst Book Press (my small press).

We’d gone to an anarchist parents gathering on Thursday, where Corbin read from both the book and her zine, Reality Mom.  One person had bought a copy of her zine, and several other copies had disappeared without being paid for.  So I expected the day to be a wash. I figured the books would be too expensive and on topics that wouldn’t interest anybody. Besides, anarchists don’t have money, I told Corbin. They live in squats and pass out flyers that say things like, “If you’re not stealing from your boss, you’re letting your boss steal from you.”

But I was surprised. I sold out of all the copies of The Confessional that I had brought. “I think you found your audience,” Corbin told me as copy after copy disappeared from my table.

This has really never happened before, except when the book first came out and I had a book signing in my home town.  

And we sold quite a few copies of both Creating a Life and Labor Pains and Birth Stories. There are a lot of midwives and doulas who are either anarchists or sympathetic, apparently.

What I find interesting about anarchists is how their philosophy of rugged individualism clashes with the very clear “code” dress that they all wear. Lots of black, lots of chains, lots of partially shaved heads, lots of tattoos, and, of course, the ubiquitous political statements that almost always included the word “fuck” somewhere on their clothes…..For example, I saw several people wearing a small pin that read, “Fuck hate.”

I spoke briefly with an anarchist parent who said that her daughter’s struggle is so different than hers. “I was always trying to stand out, to be an individual,” she said. “But X is always trying to fit in.”

I didn’t say it, but surrounded by anarchists, nobody stood out. It’s not being an individual if you’re adhering to some code….even an anarchist code.

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Home and Community

What does it mean to have a home? Is it a place or the people in a place that make something “home”? I happen to think it’s both. Our attachment begins to the people in a place, but every place’s unique history produces a particular emotional and cultural aura.

El_Paso_Skyline2For years, I’ve considered El Paso home. What I love about El Paso: my family, my two best friends and their families, my husband’s family, the gang at Cinco Puntos Press,  the latino culture, the interesting and complex history of the Border region that is like no place else in the United States, the immigrant sensibility of “work hard and don’t blame anybody but yourself if you don’t succeed,” the Mexican food (!), J-Town, the mixture of Spanish and English, and the glorioius desert landscape of mountain and plain.  

Lately, the idea of El Paso as “home” has been changing to “El Paso is my hometown.” Continue reading ‘Home and Community’

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Eek-A-Mouse and the thugs in San Jose

We went to see Eek-A-Mouse last night at a free concert in San Jose’s downtown park. This is our fourth time to see Eek-a-Mouse and it doesn’t get much better than free concert, outdoors, summer nights, fairly cheap beer, surrounded by a bunch of thugs, all chilled out because it is, after all, a reggae concert in northern California.

Eek-a-MouseI’ve lived in the Bay Area for four years now but usually we go to outdoor concerts in San Francisco. With our move to Livermore, San Jose is closer so it may become our port of call. Anyway, right away, as we walked to the park, I was surprised by three things: how everybody was dressed in black, how many dudes there had gold teeth (can I just say, ew), and completely beside the gold teeth, how many tough guys were hanging around. What I mean to say is, every other person looked like a gangsta.

Maybe to outsiders, the Bay Area is lumped together as one big cauldron of weird-ass rainbow-wearin’ gay lovin’ hippiefied liberals. But for the record, Continue reading ‘Eek-A-Mouse and the thugs in San Jose’

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Livin’ in Livermore

Right before I left for my research in South Africa, Chris and I bought a house in Livermore, California. Livermore is the farthest east community in the Bay Area–almost “country,” no longer completely urban the way San Bruno is. It’s the land of big trucks, big backyards, two and three car garages, boats, friendly neighbors, safe neighborhoods, and, sadly, people who voted “Yes” on Prop 8. (We’ll reverse it one of these days, hopefully soon.)

The more I live here, the more I like it. It takes ten minutes to walk to the inviting downtown, with its fountains, benches, cafes, bars, and donut shops. It’s another ten minute walk to make copies, send faxes, or mail books. Ten minutes to the downtown Catholic church, if I ever decide to go, and two minutes to an Episcopalian church, if I ever decide to go. We’ve got a Montesorri school half a mile away and the public school system here is at least acceptable. It’s a leeetle white bread for me, but that again depends on the neighborhood. Thankfully, Chris and I have plenty of Spanish speaking neighbors.

Chris has something of a commute from here, and he doesn’t like the traffic that starts at 6 a.m., so he’s started going to the gym at about 3 in the morning and leaving here by 5. This morning, he came back into the bedroom and woke me up.

“There’s some homeless dude sleeping on the sidewalk in front of our house.” Continue reading ‘Livin’ in Livermore’

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Another Homeless Kid

This afternoon, I was doing my usual Friday afternoon volunteering with homeless teenagers in the Haight-Ashbury district, San Francisco. A really nice kid I’d never seen before walked in, shook my hand as he introduced himself, was clean and neat, his hair cut nicely, his clothes freshly washed. Maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Twenty at most. He ate quietly and politely and kept smiling at me. He just seemed like a really good kid. I like all the kids at Haight Street, with the exception of a few psychos I’ve met, but this kid seemed like an ultra wonderful kid, the kind you don’t meet very often on the streets. No hint of a mental illness. No hint that he came from a broken family, been thrown around in foster care homes, been broken by the system.

So maybe I’d already guessed his story when he told me he was gay.

“When was the last time you saw your parents?” I asked.

“Four years,” he said. ”They don’t, you know, approve. I’ve made myself scarce.” Continue reading ‘Another Homeless Kid’

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More Reviews–Labor Pains and Birth Stories

From Midwest Book Review: “Maternity is more than putting on a little weight and having a baby show up nine months later. “Labor Pains and Birth Stories” is a collection of anecdotes covering the adventure and misadventure that is oncoming motherhood – as well as oncoming fatherhood. Maternity is a nine month span of joy and worry; joy because of the arrival of a new soul to the world, and worry that every little thing you do during this time could screw them up for life. “Labor Pains and Birth Stories” is a fine choice for future mothers, and should not be ignored by future fathers either. ”

From Ralph Magazine: Kind of an odd review, and thoroughly disagree that the best writing is at the front of the book, but here’s one quote: “We are reminded in a couple of these stories that — in a single twenty-four hour period — there are 300,000 children being born into the world. If there are two words to describe the truth of becoming a mother, one is pain; the other is waiting.”

Check out Bookslut’s provocative discussion of childbirth after reading Labor Pains and Birth Stories. A thoughtful review, not necessarily positive, and I’m certainly appreciative of the time and effort put into this one, though I disagree with the assumption that I had a political agenda and was pushing midwifery/home birth/ natural births and am opposed to cesarean sections, since well ovver half of the contributors (almost 2/3) had hospital births. But it’s true, I didn’t include a cesarean section story–nobody contributed a cesarean section story, so I had none to offer.

And here’s one from MetroActive, one of the Bay Area’s many small newspapers. (Thank you, Tania, for securing this one!) “My hope is that our child’s birth will be simple and smooth. Labor Pains and Birth Stories assures me that this is a delusional fantasy. Labor Pains and Birth Stories reminds me about pelvic exams and pitocin and epidurals and slowed heart rates and complications and death and arrrggghhh. Elisabeth Aron turns in a tear-jerking story of a stillbirth; Ann Angel writes about her teenage daughter giving a child up for adoption; and Sebastopol author Tania Pryputniewicz shows that no matter how carefully one plans for a natural, simple birth, there’s always the possibility of the dreadfully unexpected. Can’t it just be easy? Please?”

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My Brother was Homeless…and other stories

Seven or eight years ago, I was walking in the University District in Seattle, and there he was, huddled in the doorway, his hair matted, toenails black.

My brother Matt. Continue reading ‘My Brother was Homeless…and other stories’

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Scary picture

mormon-picture.jpgThis picture was taken in Sacramento near the capitol steps prior to voting on Proposition 8, the proposition that banned gay marriage in California. While I find this man’s views appalling, I think he has a right to express them. And although I find his views abhorrent, I prefer someone who is clear on what they think about these issues, who at least is honest about what he thinks, who doesn’t provide mealy-mouthed, watered-down versions of his truth. But I wonder how many Mormons would be as honest as this one? Or how many Mormons would agree with what this man is proclaiming for Mormonism?

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