Stephen Snyder-Hill joined the military in 1988 and served nearly three years on active duty in Germany and fought in the first Gulf War in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Kuwait before his honorable discharge in 1996. He reenlisted in 2001 … Continue reading From the desk of Stephen Snyder-Hill: The Kluwe Case
A short version of this essay first appeared in “Take Note” section of The Writer, January 2014. Mimi Schwartz is the author of 6 books, most recently the second edition of Writing True, the Art and Craft of Creative Nonfiction (co-authored with Sondra Perl). She is currently at work on a new essay collection, When History Gets Personal, which will include this essay. Her essays have been widely anthologized and seven of them have been Notables in Best American Essays.
I write to figure life out—and consider a memoir or essay finished when I can say, “That’s it! I got it right on the page.” But my assumption is premature, I’ve discovered, because after publication I find out new things—from my readers. What they tell me about what I wrote keeps enlarging what “getting it right on the page” means.
Take the woman who asked me to sign a book at my first reading from Thoughts from a Queen-Sized Bed (American Lives Series, University of Nebraska Press), about life in a long marriage. The woman was my age and said in a lilting voice: “I so identified with your arguments about how much to leave the window open in February—two inches or less!” I assumed she was a New Jersey wife like me until, with more lilt, she said: “Make it out to Sister Irene.” She was a nun from Ireland. Then a young man with a ring in his nose told me enthusiastically that he was a morning person like me and his partner was a night person just like Stu, my husband. I should make the inscription to Mike and Patrick.
I expected my book to appeal to the long married, newly married, and those about to take the plunge. But the common ground of relationships was much larger than I thought. People who shared a life or knew people that did (like their parents) recognized their own experiences in mine whether they slept in a single, queen, or king-sized bed.
When my next book came out, Good Neighbors, Bad Times: Echoes of My Father’s German Village (Bison Books, University of Nebraska Press), my readers surprised me again. This time who they are, where they came from, what family stories and religion they grew up with, dramatically altered the way they responded to my discoveries in a little Black Forest village of Catholics and Jews “who all got along before Hitler.” I’d first heard about this village from my father, as I was growing up in Queens, New York. I wasn’t interested until forty years later when I saw a Torah that had been rescued on Kristallnacht, not by Jews but by their Catholic neighbors. Who were they? Why did they do it? By then, my father had died so I couldn’t ask him, and so began a twelve-year quest, on three continents, in dozens of living rooms, to find out about these once good neighbors. How did they remember and live with the past? What’s true or not about memory? Was this community special?
Continue reading “From the desk of Mimi Schwartz: What My Readers Have Taught Me”
Jason C. Anthony is the author of Hoosh: Roast Penguin, Scurvy Day, and Other Stories of Antarctic Cuisine, an exploration of Antarctic history and contemporary Antarctic life through the medium of food. Why has the story of the ice-trapped Akademik Shokalskiy turned … Continue reading From the desk of Jason C. Anthony: Akademik Shokalskiy, Antarctic Rescue
A Short Subject The University of Nebraska Press has recently published a book about my life and my writing, and I’ve been asked by several people what I think about it. Well, I feel like the artificial giant I once … Continue reading From the desk of Ted Kooser
As we approach the winter equinox—the long nights stretching ever longer, the cold snap threatening ever colder, the specter of drones dancing in my head—I find myself craving comfort and, dare I say it?, even joy. Lucky for me, I have the solace of man’s best, and most-grounded friend, waiting for me when I return home at the end of the day. This is no small grace, as I was painfully made aware after the passing of our beloved Polly, a German Shorthaired Pointer mix, more than a year ago. We endured a year of mourning, and when we finally could be dog-less no more, we made a trip to the Humane Society. My husband had spotted online a three-year-old female German Shorthair named Reese. While I wavered about both our commitment and our ability to channel her prodigious energy, my husband announced he would not leave the shelter without a dog.
So, once again, our family benefits from the singular pleasure of being greeted at the door by a wet nose and full body wag. Reese does us the added honor of announcing each arrival home with a small bark. (Although we have had doubts about the suitability of her name, Reese responds to it, which is the most critical issue for a dog who can leap like a gazelle and run seemingly forever.)
On the darkest, coldest winter mornings, Reese faithfully reports for duty as a running partner. And just when my resolve starts to weaken at the front door, she begins to tremble with excitement. Turning back is no longer an option. With four legs and a low center of gravity, she navigates ice like a champion. German Shorthairs are sometimes trained as sled dogs, which can be tricky for the biped running with her, but great when facing a hill. Once home again, Reese finds the warmest, sunniest spots in the house and focuses on recovery like a professional athlete.
Dogs and books are great companions on dark cold nights and even better if the two are combined—reading with a dog, reading to a dog, or reading about dogs. For example, on the first night home with our family, Reese understood when it was time for our young daughter’s story time, and so found a spare blanket and panda pillow on which to rest. She visibly relaxed for the first time—curling up and going to sleep, as she has so many nights since.
Reading books about dogs has been one of our family’s shared joys. Most readers will agree that once you start reading books in one genre, it can be hard to stop, which explains our shelf of dog literature (good books about dogs). From dog adoption and training we ventured to fiction, then to remembrances of particularly beloved dogs, animal science research about dogs, and, most recently, to children’s books about dogs. The genre of canine literature is growing exponentially and there’s no chance of keeping up. Nonetheless, at a time of year when dogs shine as an especially brilliant creation, this idiosyncratic list of our family’s favorite canine books is my ode to the animals who help us be more human and more joyful.
Dog Adoption and Training
Successful Dog Adoption by Sue Sternberg
Provides very helpful advice about what to expect from various breeds and specific tips on what to focus attention on when visiting a shelter for a possible adoption.
No Bad Dogs: The Woodhouse Way by Barbara Woodhouse
As the back cover indicates, “There are no bad dogs, Barbara Woodhouse believes—only inexperienced owners. . . . Woodhouse passes on to the reader the simple, effective techniques as well as the infectious, positive attitude that have enabled her to make the most unruly or nervous dog happily obedient.” My husband learned many training tips from this enjoyable book.
Nonfiction about Beloved Dogs
Colter: The True Story of the Best Dog I Ever Had by Rick Bass
“‘How we fall into grace. You can’t work or earn your way into it. You just fall. It lies below, it lies beyond. It comes to you, unbidden,’ writes novelist and essayist Rick Bass of the arrival of his ‘goofy little knot-headed’ genius of a pointing dog. As they roam the remote western Montana valley where Bass lives and hunt the golden autumn plains in the eastern part of the state, Colter the dog unfailingly ushers Bass the man into ‘an unexplored land’ where the two become ‘as alive as we have ever been: our senses so sharp and whittled alive that we could barely stand it.’ . . . [Bass’s prose] result[s] in luminously transcendent passages on the education and sorrowful loss of a brilliant and mischievous chocolate brown pointer that will transfix anyone who has ever loved a dog.”—Publishers Weekly
The Difficulty of Being a Dog by Roger Grenier, translated by Alice Kaplan
From the cover copy: “Forty-three poetic, lovingly crafted vignettes between these covers explore both history and literature, digging elegantly to the center of a long, mysterious, and often intense relationship between human beings and dogs.
The Dogs of Bedlam Farm: An Adventure with Sixteen Sheep, Three Dogs, Two Donkeys, and Me by Jon Katz
This “50-something ‘suburban rookie’ buys a farm in upstate New York, stocking it with three border collies and a small herd of sheep. . . . This leaves plenty of latitude for adventures—lost sheep, horrible weather, the dramas of dog training, and lamb birthing. Soon the introspective author realizes that his interactions with dogs are about ‘trying to become a better human.’ After all, his dogs have unfailingly high expectations of him. . . . These stories offer readers a potent stew of triumphs and failures, all tied together by the constancy of complicated, joyful, lovable dogs.”—Publishers Weekly
A Life With Dogs by Roger Welsch
From the cover copy: “They can make a grown man coo baby talk in public and a strong woman weep like a little schoolgirl. They seldom perform any practical function in our modern, mechanized society, yet people are willing to spend more on vet bills than on their kids’ college tuition. They pee on our carpets, shred our living room furniture, and poop on our sidewalks, yet we love these critters more than we love life itself. Why do little beasts have such control over us simple human beings? That is the question dog nut Roger Welsch explores.”
Fiction about Dogs
Ordinary Wolves: A Novel by Seth Kantner, winner of the Milkweed National Fiction Prize
Ordinary Wolves is the story of a boy growing up in rural Alaska. From the jacket: “Seth Kantner captures America’s struggle for its soul in this original debut novel. . . . [the protagonist] finds his way, navigating between sled dogs and ‘snowgos,’ between ancient ways of the wolf pack and the ever-approaching drone of the world beyond.” My husband highly recommends this book.
A Dog’s Purpose: A Novel for Humans by W. Bruce Cameron
I bought this book because of its cover blurb from Alice Walker. From the jacket copy: “This is the remarkable story of one endearing dog’s search for his purpose over the course of several lives. More than just another charming dog story, A Dog’s Purpose touches on the universal quest for an answer to life’s most basic question: Why are we here?”
Dog: A Short Novel by Michelle Herman
“Rosen, who prefers to be called J.T., is a poet and a college professor living in a small midwestern town. . . . After an early and disappointing love life, she has more or less sworn off men—or have they sworn off her? She lives an orderly and careful life that revolves around her work, her teaching, and her little house. Then, on a whim, she adopts a nine-week-old rescue puppy. Phillip, aka Phil, is a dog who is as careful with his emotions as she is, which appeals to Jill. Soon he has her out walking, meeting her neighbors, changing her routine, and examining her life. What develops is a very real connection between two creatures and the mutual healing it brings. Told with humor, insight, and intelligence, this novel is as thought-provoking as it is charming.”—Booklist
Therapy Dogs
Where the Trail Grows Faint, A Year in the Life of a Therapy Dog Team by Lynne Hugo and [published by unp]
“Beautiful in its use of language and unsettling in its observations, this story was the worthy recipient of the River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize. Recommended not only for dog lovers interested in learning more about the training and accomplishments of a therapy dog but also for nurses, social workers, gerontologists, and anyone facing the prospect of long-term care for aging parents.”—Library Journal
Weston Poor is an Editorial Assistant in EDP. Below he shares his top 10 anatagonists from his favorite childhood fiction.
As a young pup, I thoroughly enjoyed losing myself in the glorious world of books, like a good bookworm should. Growing up with books, I was introduced to many heroes and heroines who captured my imagination. I met them, got to know them, and went on fantastic adventures with them. I was also there when they had to face their fears. The villains became almost as integral to my connection with the story as the main character. Some antagonists I remember evoked anger so authentic I could have sworn that they had personally wronged me.
Looking back on these dynamic characters, at least in the books I loved as a kid, I can't help but tip my cap to their all-too-real malevolence. Even though we honestly and heartily root for the hero or heroine to prevail, sometimes a well-constructed antagonist warrants our respect. This blog post is a list of my top 10 antagonists from my favorite childhood fiction.
10. Beans and Mutto from Wringer by Jerry Spinelli. These little guys were actually friends with the protagonist, Palmer LaRue. I consider them one entity because they represent peer pressure. To LaRue, the barbaric idea of killing pigeons to raise money for a playground was not cool, even though all his friends loved it. LaRue battled considerably with Beans and Mutto for what he thought was right, and that took some guts.
9. Rumpelstiltskin from the Brothers Grimm fairy tale (you guessed it) “Rumpelstiltskin.” What an interesting little bugger he was. The ability to weave straw into gold was definitely a good quality to have in this mischievous imp. He thought he was so clever duping women out of their firstborns by including a seemingly simple exit clause in their contracts. Despite his flaws, he represents something much bigger: greed and temptation. You can always count on the Brothers Grimm for a healthy dose of morals.
8. The Grinch from How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss. All right, admittedly this one is a little iffy, but it's Christmastime so he's going on the list. As far as Dr. Seuss villains go, the Grinch is by far the most notable for his disdain for anything good or nice.
7. Pap from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. Pap—what a weak name for someone who causes bodily harm to our beloved Huck. Despite the name, he does embody the reality of a monstrous father. This drunk, abusive, relentless ne'er-do-well represents a sad connection to our society.
6. Jadis, the White Witch, from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. Bearing a close resemblance to Sleeping Beauty’sMaleficent, Jadis is clever, conniving, and powerful, holding the blackest of hearts. The 4 young protagonists don't stand a chance against her until the mighty, mighty Aslan comes to their rescue. Only a savior of such profound strength and wisdom could match the unscrupulous nature of the White Witch.
5. It from A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. While not the most original name, It evokes a revolting truth—that conformity and hatred fuel the likes of soulless intelligence. As a giant brain, It cannot be outsmarted. This antagonist is so maniacal that he possesses a 5-year-old boy. The brain is truly indestructible and unstoppable. In fact, the book never concludes with what happens to It, therefore It will most likely be back . . .
The book Llewellyn Castle: A Worker’s Cooperative on the Great Plains is the result of a lot of old-fashioned detective work. I was born in Kansas and spent my formative years there and in the mountains of central Colorado. As much as I loved (and still love) Colorado, when it came time to advance through my education it was the history of Kansas and the Great Plains that captured my attention. As a descendent of German Mennonites who used cooperative methods to transplant entire communities of Eastern European farmers to the grasslands of central Kansas, I came from a heritage where the mutual aid and communal thought of the past shapes the present and continues to be a part of living memory. The idea of a cooperative narrative of the American past as an alternative to the myth of the so-called rugged individualist is an intriguing concept. At the same time, however, the German Mennonite tradition has been heavily researched by others, and I had little interest in revisiting the thoroughly investigated topic.
Llewellyn Castle was a settlement in northeastern Kansas that only a few people have ever heard about. Although I was a student of Kansas history and had sifted through the minutia of state history, before 1995 I had never encountered a reference to the place. The settlement nearly disappeared from historical memory for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the fabrication of a new name for the colony by a 1930s journalist. If one is looking to make an already obscure place disappear from history, an effective way to accomplish that feat is to give it a new name and embellished background for which there are no corresponding contemporary records. When I first encountered a reference to the settlement it was nothing more than the place name (the fabricated one, which I did not know at the time) and question marks next to the dates of its possible existence. It appears that once the fabricated colony name and story was accepted into local folklore, the myth took over and the reality of the settlement faded away.
I was looking for intentional communities to study for my dissertation but the prospect of taking on such 
a project was intimidating, to say the least. I had no information about the settlers or their point of origin. Nonetheless, I was intrigued enough to conduct a preliminary investigation to see if there might be enough material about Llewellyn Castle to include in my dissertation. Unfortunately, my initial foray into the public record proved fruitless. I found no references anywhere to a settlement called Llewellyn Castle during the time when it was thought to have existed. It was a frustrating moment. I had intended to conduct a comparative study of three communities: an entirely cooperative community, a religious charismatic perfectionist colony, and a political pragmatic colony. The Singleton Colony, an African American settlement that built cooperation out of necessity, and Zion Valley, a Mormon colony of the Bickertonite branch, would serve as the cooperative and religious case studies, respectively. I still needed the third subject, and Llewellyn Castle fell into the time period I was studying and had the potential to provide the case study I needed.
What makes a book a best seller? What makes a person pick up a book about wizards or hobbits and say ”Hmm, I think this sounds good”?
As marketers, we are constantly asking ourselves how to make a book a bestseller. We push our titles as hard as we can. We attend exhibits, pay for advertising, send out review copies, and produce online content. But is that enough? How do we push a title so far that it eventually breaks from the mold and takes off?
Everyone knows what Harry Potter is or has at least heard of it. The author of the Harry Potter series, J. K. Rowling, is probably one of the best-known authors in the world. What some people may not know, though, is that Rowling’s popular series was originally rejected by twelve publishing houses. According to telegraph.co.uk, after the manuscript was rejected, a small publisher by the name of Bloomsbury finally picked it up with the promise of a small advance to the author. To everyone’s surprise, Harry Potter became the best-selling book series in history. The seventh installment of the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, shattered records as the fastest-selling book ever.
How did a book that no one wanted end up taking off so fast?
Continue reading “The Marketeers Club: Muggles, Manuscripts, and Marketing”
John Christgau is author of numerous books, including Enemies: World War II Alien Internment and Birch Coulie: The Epic Battle of the Dakota War. His most recent book, Incident at the Otterville Station: A Civil War Story of Slavery and Rescue, will be available December 1. An excerpt … Continue reading 150th Anniversary of the Gettysburg Address: Consecrated Ground
Kevin Grange is an award-winning freelance writer who has written for Backpacker Magazine, National Parks Magazine, and the Orange County Register, among others. He has been to Bhutan four times and has completed the Snowman Trek three times, including twice as a guide. He is author of Beneath Blossom Rain.
The call came at dawn on the morning of the twentieth day: “Wake
up, Sir!” my guide Namgyel exclaimed, tugging on my tent door. “She is out!
By “She,” Namgyel meant Gangkhar Puensum, the massive mountain that
straddles the border separating Tibet and the country I was hiking through, the
tiny Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan. At 24,829 feet, Gangkhar Puensum is not only
the tallest peak in Bhutan, it is also the highest unclimbed mountain in the
world. From the moment we arrived at our campsite the day before, Namgyel had had
the task of “mountain watching,” with strict orders from the head chef to fetch
us the moment Gangkhar Puensum appeared in view. I threw on my boots, grabbed
my coat and camera, and unzipped my tent door.
Bhutan is a small country, about half the size of Indiana, wedged
between India and Tibet. Along with being the world’s most mountainous country,
Bhutan has the distinction of being the last Buddhist kingdom in the Himalayas,
of not having a single traffic light, of being governed by a policy of “Gross
National Happiness,” and of having the toughest trek in the world. At 216
miles, including eleven high mountain passes (seven over 16,000 feet), Bhutan’s
epic Snowman Trek is a 24-day boxing match for the hiking boots. More climbers
have scaled Mount Everest than have finished the Snowman Trek. Historically
less than 120 people attempt the Snowman each year and, of those, less than half
finish. Just some of the challenges of the trek include its duration,
notoriously bad weather, long mileage, high camps, and high elevation—all of
which mean there is a high likelihood something will go wrong. However, a
lifetime of traveling has taught me that it’s precisely these types of crucible
situations that can reveal new aspects of your character and lead to new
discoveries.
Having had the good fortune of traveling to Bhutan four times, I’ve
noticed a number of changes in myself since my first trip. I once struggled
with greeting someone in Dzongkha, Bhutan’s national language,
and yet, saying kuzuzangpo-la now seems as effortless as hello in
English. I also now intuitively walk clockwise around stupas (Buddhist
monuments), praise the gods like a local by shouting “Lha Gyalo”
from the high mountain passes, and have the good gastrointestinal sense to
request Bhutan’s mild chilies with my meals. However, perhaps the most striking
change can be seen in the pictures of my visits to the “Land of the Thunder
Dragon.”
UNP blog 