The Effects of Light by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

The Effects of Light is a debut novel from Miranda Beverly-Whittemore published by Warner Books. The story is told from the point of view of Pru and Myla Wolfe, sisters bound by a unique childhood; Pru, the narrator, is the younger of the girls, not quite five when we meet her. It doesn’t compromise the plot to know that Pru is dead and we encounter her only in flashback. The girls were subjects of nude photographs, taken over a decade as they grew to maturity. Their mother is dead and their father, David, is a professor of art history. He has strong ideas of about the role of art as the highest expression of beauty we can achieve; when he encourages photographer Ruth Handel into creating and displaying her collection of photos he sets off a chain reaction that lingers for years.

The author chose a risky strategy to frame her narrative; it opens in Pru’s voice as a child before switching to the adult life of her sister. Myla has taken on a new name. She’s teaching at an east coast college, a long way from her Oregon roots. The story is incited by a lecture delivered by Myla’s lover, a fellow professor who implies in a lecture that Myla’s father was responsible for Pru’s death.

Myla flees to Portland to the home of old friends and surrogate parents. She’s receiving mysterious packages, her father’s notes and a manuscript, that force Myla to confront her rage and question the premise that David’s pursuit of beauty ruined her life. The scenes in Portland that form the bulk of the novel hinge on this unresolved struggle to understand her father, her sister’s death, and Myla’s inability to engage in meaningful adult relationships.

These moments are interspersed with passages from Pru and sections the author calls ‘proofs’ narrative descriptions of photo shoots; the novel sags at times, slowed by plot devices as well as Myla’s proclivity for abrupt emotional responses. Pru emerges as the character we care most about, and the circumstances of her death provide the novel’s most powerful moment. The metaphor of light in the study of art often freezes the narrative in awkward ways; it’s the risk alluded to earlier, the risk of trying to capture something ephemeral yet vital without resorting to melodrama. The author uses prose to guide us through a visual experience while not neglecting the emotional impact the images create. She doesn’t always succeed at this in part because Myla’s character shies away from confronting her pain; the author seems constrained when writing about Myla, free while describing Pru. This is her thematic intent, to describe the passage from girlhood to adulthood through the perspective of experience that engenders caution, regret, anger and loss. The Effects of Light is well worth reading for the complexity of what the book conveys.

Articles of War Preview

I am working on a review of Nick Arvin’s novel Articles of War, but I thought I would share some of his prose with you as a teaser. Here is one of my favorite passages. It describes the main character’s reaction as he sails for Europe and World War II and in the process sees the ocean for the first time:

On a cloudless day, with the horizon in all directions, it appeared they had arrived into the center of eternity. At night it would have been easy to believe that the innumerable stars themselves, not the ship, were swaying. Below him, the wave tips caught the moonlight and winked with patters of a complex intelligence. By day the waves carved countless, relentless, boundless sculptural forms, and the water acquired every conceivable shade from black to white and blue to green and, lit by the fires of sunset or the embers of sunrise, violet to scarlet to gold to mud to orange.

Makes this Midwesterner want to see the ocean . . .

Books as things? Details on a book addiction

I have commented on this before, but I was recently reminded how much I love books as things; as physical objects not just collections of words and ideas. Obviously, great literature flows out of the words and the ideas, but the experience of a book is elevated if it is a beautiful object in an of itself.

What brought this up in my mind was my review of My Antonia. I had originally written a rambling introduction about how I love to collect quality editions of classic works. For good or ill, however, I lost the post so I thought I would post the discussion as a stand alone post.

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April is National Poetry Month

The Empire State Building honors National Poetry MonthThe Academy of American Poets is celebrating its tenth month-long literary celebration of poetry next month. They want us to remember Emily Dickinson’s words, “Nature is a haunted house – but Art – is a house that tries to be haunted.”

During the month, ten poetry readings will be held in ten cities, the first being in Vancouver, BC. Why they couldn’t find a tenth US city, I don’t know; but maybe Vancouver is a would-be American city–an American-enough city. Probably they’re just willing to have a reading. (Did they ask poets in Houston or Athens, TX? St. Louis, maybe?) New York will get involved with a light display on the Empire State Building. Pictured is the one from last year. They will also have a benefit gala at the Lincoln Center on April 5 with a handful of familiar faces and voices, including everyone’s favorite former anchorman Dan Rather.

But the fundamental point of this celebration is for you and I to enjoy more poetry. What do you think of that? Do you enjoy poetry or do you return it to the shelf still hungry?

My Antonia by Willa Cather

I had typed out a verbose introduction to this post about how I love to collect beautiful editions of classic novels by searching out bargains at used and remaindered book stores but, like an idiot, I managed to lose it all. I don’t have the energy to retype it, however, so you will have to wait for that part of the story.

The gist is that I have a copy of Willa Cather’s My Antonia in my collection and was recently inspired to read it. I am glad I did as it was a lyrical and beautiful work. (Death Comes for the Archbishop is on the TBR pile)

It was, however, one of those books I have a hard time reviewing. I was just swept up in the writing and the story and I really didn’t think about what I might say or write when I was done. I just enjoyed reading it. Since I have allowed several weeks to elapse since I finished it, I feel even less confident I can capture the beauty of this book. Let me venture a short description . . .

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Writing about writing

One of the rare blessings these days is an email from someone who enjoys the blog; it is doubling pleasing when it is an author/writer. (Let’s face it, getting an email that isn’t about mortages, sex, or Texas Hold Em Poker is a joy these days)

Today I received an email from Kirby Gann, author of The Barbarian Parade and the forthcoming Our Napoleon in Rags, alerting me to the fact that he has generously posted some of his lectures on writing online.

Gann teaches at the low-residency MFA Program at Spalding University (not content to be a published author and teacher, Gann is also managing editor at an independent press, Sarbande Books) and has posted excerpts from his lectures online. He will even send you the entire lecture upon request. Ain’t the Internet grand?! The current “workshop” is “In Pursuit of the Elusive Beginning.” Writers and aspiring writers, check it out.