Amalia in Brooklyn

A few weeks back, I posted a picture of Alice, reading my book in Moldavia. Today, we have Amalia, in Brooklyn, NY, waiting on her dad's bicycle for the rain to stop, and what better way to do that than by reading Amadi's Snowman?



Thank you, Amalia :)

"Good Enough", by Paula Yoo

One of the features of the SCBWI conference in Los Angeles (and maybe elsewhere, but I wouldn't know it) is the Autograph Party, at the end. We get cupcakes (disgustingly creamy, in my opinion) and can get our copies signed by the authors. Two years ago, I contemplated having the books I'd bought signed, but in the end decided against it. I never feel comfortable in crowds, and this was a BIG crowd, with long lines. This year, I came down with only two copies (the books I wanted to buy had disappeared from the bookstore by the time I got around to buying them) but once I arrived in the ballroom, I almost turned around again. Did I mention I don't like crowds? Or standing in line? That's a French thing, I think. Anyway, I almost left, but then I thought, "Nope, you're going back there and you're going to have these two copies signed, and that's it." I'm getting quite good at this "kicking my own butt thing," aren't I? And I'm so very really glad I did. I got Christopher Cheng to sign his book "Melting Pot" for my daughter. It's the story of a boy who is part Australian, part Chinese, like Chris Cheng himself, set in Sydney, at the beginning of the 20th Century, and written as a diary. I have not finished reading it, yet, but the protagonist, Chek Chee, has a strong voice, and the setting, in the early days of the White Australia policy, is fascinating. Chris Cheng, by the way, gave an informative and very lively presentation about doing research for historical novels.

With my first book signed, I then went to see the lovely Paula Yoo, author of the Young Adult novel "Good Enough." Paula noticed my button with the cover of Amadi's Snowman, and she offered to take my picture to post it on her blog, which she has done. Thanks, Paula.

I started reading "Good Enough" at the conference but was so tired by the time I went to bed that I just couldn't keep my eyes open after a few pages. I then read it during the long flight to New York and really enjoyed it. "Good Enough" is the story of Patti Yoon, a Korean-American whose parents have very high and specific expectations : she must be the best at everything, and particularly the violin in order to get into HARVARDYALEPRINCETON, and of course, dating boys is strictly out of the question. Patti struggles to find her place, understand what SHE really wants - as opposed to what her parents want for her - and make the decisions that may well affect the rest of her life. I totally related to Patti's struggle : music was really big in our family, too. I played the piano, my sister played the violin, and my brother the cello. And when we were not practicing, I would accompany my father as he sang the whole tenor opera repertoire. The pressure to achieve was also high, what with my mother who'd never been to school, and my father who'd had to drop out when he was 15 years old to go and make a living, both of them wanted their children to have what they had not had. Paula Yoo touches these issues - as well as the issue of prejudice - with honesty and an obvious understanding that comes from experience. She also writes with a great deal of humor. Her story is universal and very satisfying to read.

And now, I have two signed copies. Can't wait for next time. I'm hooked.

My belated notes on the SCBWI national conference in Los Angeles

It was fun, fun, fun, fun, fun !
What else?

Well, I got to see old friends, to meet new ones, including one of my critique partners Linda Lodding, an expat like me who lives in Holland. I heard moving, inspiring authors (Bruce Coville comes way up on the list, and Susan Patron, at the end, brought tears to my eyes ), funny editors (Oh, how I envy anyone working with Arthur Levine. Lin Oliver kept saying he's adorable, and she's right, that man is irresistible), and I danced the night away in a red sari.
This was my second time at the conference. I knew my way around, and some people, and so I didn't feel as overwhelmed as the first time. And I managed to sleep at night, so all was well.

Oh, by the way, this year's theme, embedded on the now traditional red band that we received, was : READING IS POWER. How is that for being current?

Here is a personal selection of pictures with a few sporadic and very disorganized notes (some of the pics are dark, but I was never close enough for my little flash.)

Lin Oliver (below) opened the festivities with her usual wit and a few statistics: there were 915 attendants from 44 US states, and 14 countries; 746 were women, 135 were men, and she pointed out that the numbers don't even out to make a total of 915 attendants because there were 96 people whose names did not permit to identify them as belonging to a gender or the other. That drew quite a few laughs, of course. Out of the 915, 402 were published authors. I can't remember whether this was preceded or followed by the traditional parade of the faculty, each person saying a chose word at the mike. 

Bruce Coville gave the first talk titled "The Art of the Heart. Writing True for the Child." He mentioned that kids need heroes, role models provided by children's books. He then listed the Seven Deadly Sins of Bruce Coville (Dullness, Repetition, Cliche "dead and lead on the page, but so easy," Sloth or the necessity to exceed expectations, Inattention, Perfectionism "the enemy of achievement," and Clumsiness.) Then came his personal catalogue of Virtues (Passion, Sensuousness, Wisdom, Guile or the art of distracting your reader to better surprise him or her, Humor, Courage, and Joy.)

He also gave a workshop on "Plotting : The Architecture of Story" during which he climbed and lied down on chairs and all. It was fun as well as instructive. Here he is:

Arthur Levine (above) set out to prove that "Picture Books Live", with a little story and a number of graphs that he obviously enjoyed showing to all these literary people. His talk was really funny and as far as I'm concerned, he gave the conference its "jingle" with his series of "Oh Nooooooo" cried in a high-pitched voice. My friends and I repeated that "Oh Nooooooo" every chance we got even after the conference had closed, to the obvious perplexity of friends and family who wondered what was so funny about crying "Oh Noooooo", and then laughing and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. I now do that in my mind from time to time, because it's just not as funny when your friends are no longer around to share the laugh, but I still like to remember the good time we had being so silly. Thank you, Arthur Levine, for maintaining that "there is still a large audience for Picture Books." A number of editors didn't share your point of view, but I like yours, so that's what I choose to remember.

The Pro Talk allowed published authors (still can't believe I belong to that distinguished club) to display and sell one book published during the year. I got there quite early, but as I approached the table and kind of hovered around for a few minutes, I panicked when I realized that people were not climbing over one another in order to get to my book, and... I ran away. It was sheer torture to be there. I came back much later, and the first person I saw when I entered the room was carrying my book. Boy, oh boy, I literally jumped at him and would have kissed him if I hadn't been loaded with notebooks, books, AND my Macbook (I had spent my hiding-away time using the free wireless internet connexion in the lobby to check emails). Still, I thanked him profusely.

Saturday night was Party time! This year, the theme was "Paint the Town Red, and we certainly did, as you can see below.

And here I am in my red sari, with my dear friend Rilla, acting silly - something we like to do immensely.

One of the beauties of going to a SCBWI conference is that you get to meet lots of like-minded people, read women and men obsessed with writing and/or illustrating books for children. I'm so glad I met Lea Lyon (below), who has illustrated two books for Tilbury House. Her work with watercolors is truly lovely. 


But good things always have an end, and SCBWI conference are not exception. Here is the last picture with my favorite conference pals: Rilla Jaggia seating next to me, who's been my dear friend ever since we met, oh, so serendipitously, at that same conference, two years ago, the very, very talented illustrator, Stephanie Roth Sisson, who was Picture Book page winner of the portfolio showcase (if you were at the luncheon and heard a lot of shouting when her name was mentioned, it was us, at the back of the ballroom) and Stephanie Jefferson, my new friend and super roommate.

These notes are anything but exhaustive. I didn't mention the extraordinary Leonard Marcus, who regaled us with quotes from Ursula Nordstrom (made me want to reread Dear Genius, have to get it out), Rachel Cohn, who talked about "Embracing (and Resisting the Urge to Throttle) Your Inner Teen, and reminded us how self-absorbed teenagers are. "Think how an adult would think or act and do the total opposite", she advised. She was funny, and very touching. Etc, etc...

It was all over too soon. Must now follow the number one rule for all writers : Butt In Chair. And write, write, write... Until next time.

Review on Booklist

Amadi's Snowman got a great review in the July issue of Booklist!

Booklist, 7/1/08, American Library Association
Amadi, an Igbo boy in sun-drenched Nigeria, sees no point in learning 
to read, until he sees a picture of a snowman in a book and is curious 
to find out more. He wants to learn about the far-off country where 
frozen rain falls from the sky - a world so different from his own - 
and the chance to read about it fills him with joy. Children will enjoy 
reading about Amadi's life in the village, depicted in the earth-toned, 
intimate scenes. It's a nice reversal that young children will be able 
to grasp - what looks exotic and faraway to one person is a place where 
someone else lives.

I'm back in Hyderabad...

... after an exhausting, but truly exhilarating summer spent continent and time zone hopping. It's good to be home, in spite of the strange smell floating around the house (it's very humid right now, in Hyderabad, after a monsoon that saw practically no rain). The highlights of the whole trip were definitely the readings in New York and going to the SCBWI national conference in Los Angeles, but I also loved walking around Jacmel, in Haiti, and going back to Spain, in the same apartment where I used to spend most of my summers as a kid, and taking my daughters to the Feria in Malaga, all dressed up as gitanas. I'll post pictures tomorrow. Have to get those suitcases out of the way, now...

Book Review on PaperTigers' blog

Papertigers has a lovely review of Amadi's Snowman by Janet Brown.

My day in New York

It is almost 11 pm and I'm munching on soft baked chocolate chunk cookies, thinking about the day. I did not sleep well, last night, tired after the flight from Haiti, and disturbed by the constant background noise. I had forgotten how noisy New York is. This morning, I was tired, and nervous, well, more like borderline frantic, actually. Of course, I didn't need to be...

I walked the streets of Manhattan for more than two hours, reacquainting myself with the city before I reached the 192 Bookstore in Chelsea. It is a lovely bookstore with a very good selection of books. Dimitrea soon showed up with her two adorable daughters, and then, more people arrived. I read the book and Dimitrea talked about her process as an artist and an illustrator. It was very interesting, and everyone was so nice, and not even bothered by my accent.

I ran back to my room to shower and, most importantly, to change shoes ! My feet were killing me. And I took the subway to Utica Avenue and the Brownstone Bookstore on Lewis Avenue, in Brooklyn. There again, a lovely place, with a nice, cosy feeling to it. 

There again, the response was lovely. People seem to really appreciate the story, they love the illustrations, and I even got to meet the models that Dimitrea used to create several characters in the book. I'm feeling very happy and content, tonight.

                                Posing with Dimitrea

                                  

               This handsome young boy was the model for Amadi.

A Second Reading, in Brooklyn, this time.

July 30 will be an exciting - and busy - day. I mentioned the reading at 192 Books in Chelsea, but I will be giving another one in Brooklyn, at Brownstone Books, in the Stuyvesant Heights Historic District of the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, at 7 PM. For those who live in Brooklyn, my old beloved borough, or those who can't make it in Manhattan, in the afternoon... As for the other reading in Manhattan, the illustrator of Amadi's Snowman, Dimitrea Tokunbo, will be there with me.

The 14th of July in France !

It's been a while since I spent the 14th of July in France. This is our National Day. Parisians stormed La Bastille, in 1789, and it became a highly symbolic event in the calendar of the French Revolution.

As a child, we'd often stay up late to watch the fireworks and sometimes dance at the balls, if we happened to be holidaying in some village. As I mentioned this to my daughters, the other day, the older one decided she wanted to see the fireworks and to dance as well. Any excuse to stay up late, really. I didn't know where the fireworks would happen, but I found out, and at 9 PM, I packed the kids into the car and drove the 7 kms to the town of Apt. There was quite a crowd in the big square where we watched the sprays of colors light up the sky. I was so happy to hear the girls going "Ho!" and "W0w!" and to share that very French moment with them. My patriotic bursts are rare enough for me to be able to boast about them, I think.

After the fireworks, a band started playing Seventies Rock, and we stayed a little while. My older daughter was obviously fascinated, more by the action than the music, I think, as it wasn't very good at all, quite frankly. But the little one was getting tired, and I suggested we go. We started walking in the direction of our parking space, but upon crossing a street, I heard Latin music, and immediately, my ears pricked up. A small band was playing in front of a pub. There were tables outside, and the area was packed (the crowd was almost as thick as in the big square.) We stopped and listened to the band who played Cumbia, from Colombia, and it felt wonderful to hear good music, and to see the people around us appreciate it and dance to it. 

Why do I report this here? Well, it just stroke me as interesting that on such a "French" day, people gathered spontaneously around musicians from a distant country, singing in another language, playing different rhythms. It made me smile, and it made me happy. It may not be much, but somehow, I find it revealing. I do not believe such a thing would have been possible when I was a child. Not because people would not have appreciated or enjoyed the music, but because the opening, the opportunity, simply weren't there. Now, it seems almost natural. So, that was our 14th of July in France. Lovely fireworks, and then, the joyous rhythms of La Cumbia. A multicultural moment, just the way I love it.

My first reading in New York City

I will be reading Amadi's Snowman at 192 books in Manhattan, on July 30, at 2 PM.

The bookstore is located on Tenth Avenue, at 21th Street, in Chelsea.

Dimitrea Tokunbo, the illustrator, will be there as well. 

If you are in New York at that time, please, come and say hello.

Why do I write?

I certainly didn't know it when I took the leap and decided to "try my luck" at getting published, but isn't this one perfectly lovely reason?

Please, meet Alice, in Moldavia. I'm just thinking I'd love to collect pictures of children from all around the world, reading my book, and with such concentration, too.  Thank you, Alice. I'm so happy that you liked it.

Where have I been?

I cannot believe it's been a month since my last post. The last weeks in India where totally crazy. I worked on my website, tried to prepare for our continent-hopping summer vacation and the fact that we'd be gone for two months, and the usual last days school activities, etc. When I left for France, I was tired, and stressed out about the fact that the website was not entirely done. It is now up and running, but still needs some fine-tuning. Still, if anyone would like to visit it and give me feed-back about it, please, don't hesitate.

www.katianovetsaintlot.com

On a much, much sadder note, my husband was supposed to join us in France, tomorrow, but he had to fly to Haiti as the cancer that his indomitable father had been mocking for the past ten years had finally caught up with him. My father-in-law waited for his son to arrive, and died a few hours later, peacefully, at the end of a life he lived with true joy and generosity. Hundreds of people from all classes and walks of life attended his funeral, many of them waiting on line for hours so they could pay him their last respects. Adieu, Papa André. Wherever you are, now, I know you're the life of the party.

  

My first interview ever.

Well, I was just given my first interview ever. I mean, not an interview of someone else where I thought up the questions, no, no, an interview where little me actually answers the questions asked by the person doing the interview!

Annette Gulati is a writer - her stories are appearing in Highlights for Children, and just wait, because I can bet you that I'll soon have the opportunity of posting an interview of her in this blog, too - who left a comment on my blog, last year, and we then met each other in Uma's online class. She writes about the many tribulations of the The Writing Wild Life, in her blog, and you'll find the interview by clicking on this link :

http://thewritingwildlife.blogspot.com/2008/06/author-interview-with-katia-novet-saint.html

Thanks so much, Annette. You just made me feel almost famous, for a few minutes. I think I could get used to this :))

The book is now officially out !

Hurray ! Everyone listen very carefully, as this is Ifeanyi Amadi talking, well, writing. My dear authorly mother is out there living her life, and I couldn't resist sneaking in to shout out the news to the whole world. It is my story, after all.

Finally, today is the big day ! The book is out. Go and get it. Come on! Well, no, wait until you finish reading this post, and then, do rush to the nearest bookstore to buy Amadi's Snowman, yes?

You'll see that the cover of the book is gorgeous. I really love the way Dimitrea, my second mother the artist, worked with colors. It's sunny and warm, just like back home. And the way she painted that snowman up in the sky is so much like what I imagined when I tried to make sense of things, in my very unique way. I'm not saying anything more, because, well, because you have to buy the book, of course! How else will you find out what that snowman is doing up in that Nigerian sky, and what he means to me in the story ?

Oups ! Mom just arrived and caught me at the computer. She doesn't mind. She's smiling. She even asked me to say thank you to all who where involved in the creation of the book : the publisher, Jennifer Bunting, the editor, Audrey Maynard, and her assistant, Karen, the lovely publicist at Tilbury Publishers, Sarah McGinnis, and of course, Dimitrea Tokunbo, for bringing the book to life with her colorful art. She also said to not forget the people to whom the book is dedicated : her husband, Michel, with very special thanks to her friend back in Enugu, Theresa Madubuko, who read several millions drafts and answered just as many questions, and Uma Krishnaswami, who is her favorite teacher in the whole writers' universe.

I'm glad to report that she ended this sloppy thank you moment with a big kiss to me, because after all, if it weren't for me, there would never have been a story in the first place, and no story, no book.

Now, it is my turn to thank my authorly mother for making me famous. Imagine, me, Ifeanyi Amadi, hero of a book that will hopefully be read by many children all over the US, and I hope, back home, and who knows, maybe even all over the world. Isn't that something? Of course, as a pretty exceptional Igbo man of Nigeria, I deserve nothing less, but no matter. I'm totally thrilled to have my own book, and so, I say : "Dalu, mama imela." It means "thank you, Mother, well done," in my Igbo language.

So, please, if you live in the US, run to the nearest book stores - no, scratch that, run to ALL the book stores in your vicinity, and also those not in your immediate vicinity, and look for my book, and make sure you turn the cover so it faces all the prospective buyers who happen to walk by the shelves. And if you don't live in the US, the book is available for order on amazon.com and barnes and noble.com.

You can leave comments on this blog for me, if you'd like. I promise to reply.

P.S. Watch this space in the coming months. Mother the author is preparing a virtual book launch on this very blog. It should take place sometime at the end of October and there will be interviews, virtual school events, a tour of other blogs, AND books will be given away ! Hurray!

My Global Bookshelf : The Expat Arc, by Danielle Barkhouse

Today, I want to talk about another book by a fellow blogger and expatriate.

Before India, Danielle Barkhouse was a trailing spouse in the US and in the UK. Upon hearing the news that her husband’s work was taking them to Chennai, formerly known as Madras, in Southern India, she started writing a blog which she refers to as her "free therapy" outlet. It begins before she leaves the US, and continues throughout the whole first year of the family's life in India (and the family includes a much-loved golden retriever,) allowing the reader a glimpse into the various stages of culture shock. She has now published the blog content, after some editing, and the book is titled: The Expat Arc. An expat's journey over culture shock.

Danielle Barkhouse is a Canadian with a no-non-sense, down-to-earth approach to life - now that I think about it, I realize that most Canadians I know seem to share that quality. She has a good, often very funny voice, spunky and full of personality, and most of all, I found her to be unwaveringly and refreshingly honest, and that is the thing that impresses me the most about her blog, and now, her book.

As an expat who’s lived outside of her birth country practically half her life -yuck, imagine being old enough to be able to say something like that! - I’m quite familiar with said stages of culture shock (they have been assimilated to the stages of grief), even though I only recently acquired the vocabulary and knowledge to recognize the symptoms for what they are. I’ve also witnessed other people experiencing them. I don’t believe it is ever easy to analyze one’s emotions with the clarity and honesty that Danie Barkhouse displays throughout her book. It is often more convenient to either shut out the world just outside the door and become totally negative about it, or to fall into the other extreme, which is to make the conscious decision that you will like it, whether you really do or not. Danie candidly admits to having fallen into the first negative category while living in England, and recognizes what a waste of time and energy it is and decides she will not experience India in the same way. And she doesn’t.

“The difference between me and most other people is that I say the stuff most people think but don’t say aloud,” she declares, at some stage. To illustrate that point, here is her undiluted take about the way political correctness is transforming Christmas in the US:

"The day that we left Chennai, JB walked through the factory and about 60 people wished him a Merry Christmas. Or, as they say, Happy Christmas. We’ve received cards and gifts from many non-Christmas-celebrating people. We're talking about Indian Hindus. As we journeyed through the Dubai airport, we were in awe of the Christmas decorations. It was so beautiful. When we were there in November, several people had wished us a Merry Christmas. We're talking about Middle Eastern Muslims." She goes on to describe their arrival in New York, a primarily Christian country, where only two people wish them "Happy holidays." And she adds: "What the heck is our problem? We're so concerned about being "politically correct" that we've become anti-Christmas. [...] I've got to tell you, in case you’re missing the tone here, I'm beyond appalled. I resent America placing a big fat censorship on Christmas. [...] I have every respect for other cultures and faiths. We can have it all. I wonder what Hindus in Asia and Muslims in the Middle East would think if they knew the controversy over Christmas in America."

How is that for going straight to the point? It is entirely true that most people, in India, acknowledge, and even celebrate each other's religious holidays with a true spirit of tolerance. And there should indeed be room for everyone to freely celebrate their faith.

Another post is aptly titled “Miss Communications,” and I could have written it myself.

“You can't stick a girl in India with no way of communicating with the outside world. […] People have been relocating to and living in other countries all around the world for many years. How on earth did they survive before the Internet?”

Well, they survived the way we all do when we have to - and of course, they couldn't pine after our ultra fast ways of doing things, nowadays, since these didn't exist. But for having experienced it, I can tell you that it's enough to drive any girl outside of the boundaries of sanity.

Now, one may argue that Danie’s experience is that of the corporate expatriate, and not all expats work for corporations which provide their staff and their family with cultural trainings, shipment entitlements every three or four months, etc, etc. So, when she touches the potentially sensitive subject of the differences between expats (“There seems to be a growing attitude among expats of whether you're 'expat enough.' Twelve years as an expat is 'less expat' than 25 years with the kids being born all around the world. You might also be 'more expat' than someone else if your posts have been tougher. A post in India would make us 'more expat' than our England or US posts? Seriously. Expat is expat. You're still away from home”) she might find that some people want to push the discussion a little further. And "some people" is going to be me, for now.

First of all, there are those who don’t even know what “home” means, anymore. They may belong to a family with the father being from one place, the mother from another – or even two, as in my own case – with kids born in yet another place, or more, and so, where is home? For me, home is where my bubble, containing my daughters, my husband, and my books are. It’s not a country. I’m tremendously helped in that by the fact that my mother, who left Franco’s Spain in her mid-twenties to go in search of a better, freer future in France, always told us kids as we grew up: “My country is the country that feeds me, the country that allows me to work and where I can eat and not starve.”

Secondly, being an expatriate in a place where you find practically everything, where there are no power supply or communication problems to speak of is not the same as being in a place where you have to deal with this kind of problem practically on a daily basis; there may be power cuts, and the Internet may not work from time to time in India, especially when it rains, but as someone who spent over three years in Nigeria, where I routinely had to go entire weeks without phone or the Internet, I have found India to be quite all right in that regard. And I’m not even mentioning security problems, again like the ones we had in Nigeria, where the UNICEF office could be attacked by men holding Kalashnikovs, one of them beating an office driver so he would hand over the 4x4 car keys, and my husband, who was the primary target of one of the mentioned Kalashnikovs shouting at them to just take the bloody car and leave the driver alone (which they did, thank Goodness!), and yours truly only a few feet behind said husband. Now, this may be a rather dramatic example, but I’ve gathered so many others from other expats having lived in difficult places, not always that spectacular, yet harrowing enough to render life very difficult indeed. Of course, some might respond that UN people know what they're getting themselves into when they choose such career. Maybe. Their families don't always, though. And so, I would argue (gently) with Danie that in light of all that, well, perhaps it is easier to understand why some people may feel that they're "a little more expats" than others. I don't believe it is ever done in a spirit of spiteful competition, but rather coming from a place of experience where you can't help but compare situations and draw obvious conclusions. The reason I mention this is that I do, at times, get a bit annoyed at some expats when I hear them complaining endlessly about not finding a particular brand of cereals, or some such.

That said, I want to add that going through the stages of culture shock means that people may find their buttons pushed where, in any other circumstances - like back home where they don't have to adjust to so many new things and ways of doing them - they would have remained pretty much unruffled. Expats recently landed in a new place need to keep that reality in mind, and cut themselves some slack. It takes time - anywhere from a few months to a whole year. And this is where having a book like Danie's can prove invaluable, if only to provide reassurance that it is all normal.

In another insightful post, the author ponders the opinion that "living in India reveals your true character." And she goes on to say, with her usual honesty, that she's not so sure she likes what India is revealing about her own character. I would venture to add that getting out of one's comfort zone to go and live in another country, whether that new country is a hard duty station or not, is likely to help a person build their character, as long as they're willing to take a hard look at their own self. And Danie certainly is.

I totally recommend this book to any expatriate preparing to move to India, but not only. Anyone about to relocate in a new country, especially for the first time, anyone interested in the subjects of life in India, life abroad and culture shock, will find it instructive and interesting. Not to mention that you’ll get to laugh very often.

The gems one comes across in Hyderabad bookstores !

A while back, I wrote a post about the bookstore experience in Hyderabad.

Today, I had one hour to kill between two appointments, and, of course, I hit the nearest bookstore. I went there with no particular need or want. Just happy to browse. And it strikes me that this is probably the best way to approach life in India. Have no expectation. Go with the flow. And it is most likely that surprises will await you around some corner.

So, what did I find ?

I Heart You, You Haunt me, by Lisa Schroeder.

I was totally flabbergasted. There was only one copy, and of course, it was seating on a shelf with no obvious order or reason that I could figure out, but boy, that made my day! Lisa and I belonged to the same critique group, a while back, and her novel was on the list of books I meant to acquire while in the US this coming summer. I no longer have to wait to read it.

I got scolded for taking this picture, by the way ! Go figure :)


Second surprise : I've been looking for Barack Obama's "Dreams from my Father" for a while. I actually asked my husband to try and get it for me in one of the usually well-stocked bookstores of Khan Market, in Delhi. No chance. Well, I didn't need to go that far. Not only did I find it, but the book was even in the biography section ! I didn't take a picture, but I have it, it's right here on my desk. Yippee !

In the end, I left the bookstores with ten books ! All is well in the world, AND in India :)

He's on top of it, and so am I... not ??

I found this You Tube video on Through The Tollbooth and I just had to post it here, because this sounds and feels soooo familiar, at the moment. I've had Steve Weber's Plug Your Book on my desk for months, I've even read parts of it, and underlined or highlighted entire sections. I went ahead, opened accounts on Facebook and MySpace, even managed to build a nice looking page on MySpace, but that's about it. I've been saying for months that I'm going to build a website, and, well, I have not. And all these widgets, avatars, and what not. I mean, how much time does a writer have to spend on that stuff? But then, when does said writer have any time left to actually write ??? Of course, this is an old dilemma, I'm sure. It just happens to be new to me :) Anyway, since I've been reviewing a few books, lately, and I was mentioning The Shrinking Violet Promotions blog the other day, this little video is totally "dans l'air du temps" - read timely.

My Global Bookshelf : "Losing Kei" by Suzanne Kamata

One of the beauties of blogging is that you get to "meet" interesting people you'd probably never run into otherwise. Suzanne Kamata is an expatriate writer whose blog, Gaijin Mama, allows its readers a glimpse into the life of an American mother and wife bringing up twins on an island in rural Japan. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, and she is the editor of the anthologies, The Broken Bridge: Fiction from Expatriates in Literary Japan, and Love You to Pieces: Creative Writers on Raising a Child with special needs.

In her first novel, Losing Kei, published by Leapfrog Press, Suzanne Kamata tells the story of Jill Parker, an American artist who marries a Japanese man. Unfortunately, try as she may to meet the demands of Japanese traditional society, and in spite of the birth of a beautiful son, Kei, she ends up divorcing. Thus begins her struggle to remain in her son's life, as Japanese divorce law does not recognize shared custody and the parent not granted custody is expected to disappear entirely from the life of the child.

The novel's protagonist is a complex, multidimensional character; she can move the reader to tears, one moment - especially when she expresses her passion for her son - and slightly irritate, the following. In fact, I could never quite decide whether I liked her or not. When I asked the author how she felt about her character, she replied that Jill Parker is "passionate, but imperfect. I wanted to create a character who got into trouble on her own, and then found a way to redeem herself. I didn't want her to be simply a victim. She's young and impulsive at the start of events, but she eventually gets her act together."

The book is much more than a fascinating introduction to Japanese culture. It is the journey to maturity of a sensitive, not quite "finished" young woman through an harrowing experience. Something that Jill realizes herself toward the end of the story: "I was born into a middle class family, in a prosperous, peaceful country. There was no obvious war to protest, no important cause that caught my attention. But I had wanted to suffer. I was so young then. Look what happened to me. I no longer had to borrow misery. I'd created it all by myself."

In spite of my reservations about Jill Parker, or maybe because of them, I enjoyed reading Losing Kei. It is a sensitive work, elegantly written, and always respectful of the culture it depicts.

Suzanne Kamata was kind enough to answer a few questions.

How did the inspiration for "Losing Kei" come to you?

I first read an article 10-15 years ago about expatriate parents who'd lost custody of their children to their Japanese ex-spouses and who were then denied access to their children. One of the parents interviewed was a woman journalist who, apparently, lost custody because she was a working woman. Her ex and his new wife gradually turned her son against her, so that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with his mother. I thought that this would be an interesting subject to explore in fiction. In Japan there is no such thing as joint custody, and this sort of thing actually happens quite a bit - to Japanese as well as foreigners.

What would you say has changed you about living in Japan?

I have become comfortable with being an outsider. And I suppose I have learned to appreciate a certain amount of frugality. Living in the U.S. is very comfortable - entire houses are heated, so you can go from room to room without being cold. Here, we heat one room at a time in winter, but it's more ecological, less wasteful.

How about becoming a mother in Japan? Do you find that you have assimilated aspects of your host country's culture, or do both cultures, the American and the Japanese, remain separate?

When I first came here, I said that I would never sleep with my children, and I thought that the idea of fathers bathing with their little daughters was perverse, but we slept with our kids till they were about four, and my husband has taken a bath with them until recently.
In some respects, I remain American. The Japanese tend to stick to traditional gender roles, but I encourage my son to help in the kitchen and read books that might be considered girly, and I like it that my daughter is proud of her biceps.

Thank you, Suzanne, and best of luck to "Losing Kei."

The Princess Problem : there may be ways of circumventing it ?

For all the parents like me, out there, sick and tired of the whole Pink Princess thing - as if pink Barbies weren't enough - there is a good article on Anti-Racist Parents titled : "The Princess Problem : There is more than one way of being pretty" that shoots a much-deserved cyber bullet into the infuriating brainwashing that our children are exposed to, thanks to the mass-marketing of white dolls or white movie characters always getting the "enviable" part of the princess heroine.

The other day, only, I was reading Snow White to my daughters for the first time ever, it seems, and I started jumping words and whole sentences when I saw that Snow White was born with a skin white as snow, which of course made her the most beautiful girl. Problem is : my older daughter can now read, and what worked when she was little, not longer does now. She noticed something amiss, looked at the book, and caught me red-handed. I told her I was annoyed to see white people constantly portrayed as being the most beautiful, because it's an old lie, and everyone is tired of it, and if some are not, they definitely ought to be. I never know whether my reaction is a good one, when this kind of thing happens. I guess honesty is always right, and even if I don't convince them, right now, some nuggets of those conversation will hopefully remain lodged somewhere in their psyche. My youngest daughter has taken to saying all the time that she loves her Scandinavian friend's hair because it's smooth and platinum blond. I simply respond that her hair is different but just as beautiful.

To go back to the whole princess thing, it's hard, because I remember being fascinated with princesses, as a child. And living in a totally white world, I never even thought that princesses could or should be anything but white. So, there are two problems in one, really. First, princesses don't have to be all light-skinned and blond. And second, what's so enviable about the princess waiting helplessly for the prince to rescue her?

Anyway, that article mentions several titles of books that show princess heroines with brown skin. AND there is apparently a book that also discusses the whole Princess thing by asking a sound and much- needed question : "What does a princess do?" Indeed.

I can't wait to be in the US, this coming summer, so I can check these books out and buy a few. And they just reduced the baggage allowance on transcontinental airplane journeys. OK, that's totally off-topic.

To end on another off-topic, it is HOT in Hyderabad !

"Get off the bus!"

Two evenings ago, my husband brought me an envelope sent through the UN pouch, and I discovered an advance copy of Kimberly Willis Holt's last novel, to be published in August. I mentioned it before on this blog : Piper Reed, The Great Gypsy.

This is the second book in the series, and Kimberly signed it for me and my "Gypsies." I was totally thrilled and touched. What a lovely surprise ! I started reading it to my almost 8-year-old daughter, last night, and then finished reading it on my own.

Piper has a great voice, a really fun personality, and this totally childlike way of bringing everything back to her. Kimberly also has a great way of describing family dynamics, especially between siblings, and the dialogs are funny and very lively. It's the kind of book that one reads fast. Then, when it's over, you sigh happily and close the back cover with a smile on your face.

As an expat often on the move, I also empathized with Piper wondering "where is home?" And I loved her answer at the end of the book : " .... I decided I'd changed my mind about home. Home was not Pensacola, San Diego, Guam, or any of the other places we might have lived. In fact, home wasn't a particular place at all. Home was my family. Even if they didn't get my jokes sometimes."

As for those who don't know Piper well, yet, "Get Off the Bus" is her favorite expression and usually means that she's excited, happy or generally bowled over.

Thank you so much, Kimberly.