Literary Safari

I didn’t know what to expect of the on stage musical adaptation of Uma Krishnaswami’s picture book “Chachaji’s Cup” this past weekend.  The program billed it as “Bollywood style,” a label that automatically leaves me slightly wary. Turns out I was more than pleasantly surprised. The one-hour production, aimed at audiences ages 8 and up, was  lively and entertaining, while it also touched me with its delicate exploration of themes of identity, filial responsibility, and the importance of roots and ties to the past.

Tea with Chachaji is based on the picture book story about Neel, a 10 year old, who learns about his family’s place in the partition of India through a story about his great uncle’s favorite teacup. In the stage production, Neel’s mother, Anya (Soneela Nankani) is a hardworking nurse who paints in her free time. His father died when he was a young boy and his primary male role model is his great uncle Chachaji (Tony Mirrcandani) who is a wizard with words. Neel (Raja Burrows) can’t get enough of his stories – family stories, stories about Hindu mythology, and super hero characters like Hanuman, the monkey god. On the cusp of adolescence, Neel finds himself torn between his new friend Daniel (Jose Sepulveda) and the basketball court and his family, dance lessons, and attachment to Chachaji’s stories. When an accident causes the loss of Chachaji’s favorite tea cup, Neel learns the importance of his family history and grows to appreciate it in his new environment. At the same time, Chachaji comes to view his roots and ties to the past from a fresh perspective.

Before the performance, the opening question to the audience was “Raise your hand if you, your parents, or your grandparents were not born in America.” The majority of the audience raised their hands, as might be expected. But there were a few people around me who sat still with their hands in their laps and their heads bowed down, seemingly embarrassed. At that moment, I wished I had a copy of Davy Brown Discovers His Roots, an independently published illustrated children’s book by Keely Alexander and Velani Mynhardt Witthoft, to share. It would have made a fine bookend to any discussion or workshop following the play.

The main character in this book is an all-American boy Davy Brown who goes into a panic attack when his teacher assigns his class to investigate their family’s immigration roots. His classmates all have fascinating backgrounds, Davy believes. They come from Mexico, China, India, and Sudan, and all of them have unique immigration stories. In contrast, his parents don’t know much about his past. It takes a series of events for him to finally dig deep to find his family’s roots.

Davy Brown is a likable character, who pulls some clever antics and tells some tall tales to his classmates in his attempt to get out of the immigration research assignment. (Pirate ancestors, anyone?!) But with the help of his family and the mighty Internet, he finally gets some of the answers he is looking for.

“Tea with Chachaji” and “Davy Brown Discovers His Roots”  have this in common – it is one’s family that helps both Neel and Davy connect meaningfully to their pasts. In an educational setting, stories like these can serve as valuable tools to get kids interested in researching their family histories. Once they are ready to do that, the resources to do so are endless — and in that respect, the appendix of Davy Brown provides a comprehensive list of websites and methods to go deeper, as well as helpful information about immigration laws. (At the book’s website, there is also a sample lesson plan.)

I was intrigued, but slightly skeptical when I signed up for a cooking class at the newly-opened Indian Culinary Center a few weeks ago. What could I, a vegetarian who has been cooking desi food pretty regularly for the past couple of years, learn that was new and interesting in an Indian Vegetarian Delights Class? A lot, it turns out.

The ICC is run by Geetika Khanna, a former psychologist and graduate of the French Culinary Institute who has been charting a path in the food industry for the past 10+ years. I really felt like I was walking into another world when I rang the buzzer of 131 W. 23rd St., which turned out to be the Chelsea Inn, a cosy bed and breakfast whose ground floor industrial kitchen turned out to be the cooking school of the now-defunct culinary arts program of The New School, where it turns out, Khanna used to be an instructor.

On this particular Tuesday night, nine of us had signed up to spend the evening learning how to cook with Khanna, a tall, relaxed, and skilled instructor who weaves anecdotes about her family in with technique tips and practical approaches on how to make Indian cooking a part of your culinary repertoire, instead of something exotic and inaccessible. For those like me, who generally cook at least one or two Indian meals a week, it was the practical tips like how to clean your spice grinder — run a piece of bread through it — and the ease and humor with which Khanna made cooking a six-course meal seem doable (from scratch, using mostly fresh ingredients) that was the tipping point. Plus, I enjoyed her running commentary on colonialism, the evolution of the Indian “curry,” and the Food Network —and she gave me the courage to fry my first pooris, a big deal for a gal who has always had a fear of deep frying. There were also a few surprises along the way, like the fact that she uses cayenne pepper in her masala dhaba. [Click on the narrated slideshow above for a walk-through of the class and a look at our full menu.]

The menu for that day’s class was what Khanna referred to as a typical Sunday breakfast meal that her North Indian-Punjabi household would eat in Delhi. In my Sindhi home, it would be dinner or lunch and there would be many more fried foods! So yes, the variation is incredible, but here in the US, there are common denominators to the term “Indian cuisine” and certain lines do, I think, get blurred. For example, when I first started cooking, I made dishes based on recipes I found online (because it’s easier than trying to get my mom to talk to me about measurements) and so, they were always slightly different than what I grew up eating. It’s only now that I’m starting to figure out how to adjust the spices and ingredients so that they taste more like my grandmother and mother’s food.

The three and a half hour class cost $55, and was followed by a delicious six-course meal. A pretty good deal for an evening out in NYC where you’re learning, eating, and meeting a bunch of interesting people. (Other NYC cooking classes range from $100 to $200 per person).

At present, Khanna offers classes every month, and has plans to invite other chefs of Indian cuisine to teach at the ICC. With all the regional variations of Indian food plus diasporic foods such as Indian Chinese, West Indian, and Indo-French, as well as the wealth of Indian chefs in the New York area, I’m sure there are many more yummy lessons and treats to return to at the ICC. I’ll definitely be going back.

Oh, and if anyone is interested in interning with Khanna, she’s looking. Drop her a line.

While the spotlight shines on Barack Obama’s long-awaited speech to the Muslim World, closer to home, I’ve been seeing lots of posters and advertising for the upcoming Muslim Voices Festival in New York City which begins today, Friday, June 5 and runs through the 14th of this month. Featuring concerts, lectures, film screenings on PBS, and even, a souk, the ten-day festival is designed to celebrate the arts and culture of Muslim societies. It is the culmination of three years of organizing by the Asia Society, Brooklyn Academy of Music, and NYU”s Center for Dialogues.

Below the fold is a listing of a few of the South Asia-related events coming up over the next fortnight. Don’t let your exploration stop there. There’s tons more on the calendar worth checking out.

But first, I want to tell you about a book that I’ve been reading which ties in well to the theme of this festival: Kavitha Rajagopalan’s Muslims of Metropolis which was published by Rutgers University Press late last year.

Muslims of Metropolis is a sensitive and thoughtful examination of international migration and the social construct of identity. Rajagopalan spent nearly 7 years researching and writing her first book which tells the stories of the journeys of three families from majority-Muslim countries to three major Western metropolises. In London, she follows a Palestinian man from Jerusalem and his Syrian wife. In Berlin, a Turkish Kurdish community. And, in post 9/11 New York, and a Bangladeshi man and his daughter who married an undocumented Pakistani man.

As Rajagopalan puts it in her introduction:

These families come from different socioeconomic, political, and ethnic backgrounds, but they are all Muslim. It should be noted, however, that this is not a book on theology or Islamic history. Although the stories in this book will refer to the ways in which characters relate to Islam as they construct their identities, cope with adversity, or understand their roles in the world, this is not ultimately a book about Muslims but about immigrants … I have chosen to write about Muslim immigrants because I believe that the social identity of Muslim immigrants stands under the greatest pressure of misunderstanding and mistrust throughout the world.

Over the past several months, Rajagopalan has been touring the country doing multimedia presentations and readings from her book. I attended one reading right here in NYC and was struck by her ability to weave together multiple human narratives with solid research in a manner that was penetrating and insightful, at once literary, journalistic, and accessibly academic. (more…)

Soon after 9/11, a friend of mine told me that her college roommate’s home had been visited by the local police in their town in upstate New York. The police wanted to search the home of this family because they’d heard they had a picture of Osama Bin Laden hanging in their living room. The cops were mistaken. This was the home of a pious Sikh family and the picture was of Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion.

I’ve often thought about this story. There are so many more like it — incidents of mistaken identities, faulty detentions, stereotyping, and violent acts in the wake of September 11th. We’ve read about them in the press and slowly, literature is beginning to tackle this dark period of recent American history as well; a time that unfolded in what Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic artist, Art Spiegelman, described so aptly as “in the shadow of no towers.”

A few years ago, Ask Me No Questions by Marina Budhos was one of the first young adult offerings to address the challenge of growing up South Asian and Muslim in an America altered by 9/11. First time novelist Nisha Meminger takes on a similar theme in her new YA novel Shine, Coconut Moon, just published by Simon & Schuster.

When her turbaned uncle appears at the doorstep of her suburban NJ home just four days after the 9/11 attacks, 16 year old Samar is caught off guard. Raised in a single-parent household by an Indian-American mother who cut off ties with her Sikh family many years before, Samar has no connection to her cultural roots and traditions. She is skeptical of this man, Uncle Sandeep, who claims to want to reconnect with his estranged sister because “we’re living in different times now … and I want to be close to the ones I love. The world is in turmoil—we’re at war. Anything could happen at any moment.”

As Samar gets to know her uncle, she begins to learn about Sikhism and gets to know her grandparents. She even visits a gurdwara, Sikh temple, for the first time in her life. This prompts her to start questioning her mother’s decision to raise her to think of herself “like everyone else.” She begins to question her identity; wondering whether she is a coconut — someone who is brown on the outside and white on the inside—someone who may physically appear to be Indian but doesn’t know who she really is. At the same time, she is shocked and saddened by a series of troubling events in her community that affect her personally: her uncle is attacked by a bunch of teenage boys who goad him to “Go back home, Osama!” and the local gurdwara is set on fire.

In his compelling Guardian article “The End of Innocence” Pankaj Mishra writes, “‘Post-9/11’ fiction often seems to use the attacks and their aftermath too cheaply, as background for books that would have been written anyway.” Shine, Coconut Moon does not fall into this category. Most definitively shaped by the effect of 9/11 on minority immigrant communities, this is an ambitious coming of age novel for young adults that seeks to demonstrate the effects of fear mongering on the lives of ordinary minority teens who saw themselves as American before 9/11.

Below the fold is an excerpt from the novel, as well as a Q&A with, Neesha Meminger where she talks about her novel writing process and the real-life incidents that inspired it. And, for those in the NYC area, there is a book launch party and reading this Saturday, March 14th at 7 pm at Bluestockings Bookstore. (more…)

Submit your six word love memoir here and enter to win a free copy of Six Word Memoirs of Love and Heartbreak, courtesy of SMITH magazine. Our guest judge will be Anita Jain, author of “Marrying Anita,” a memoir about her search for love in contemporary India which the New York Times calls ” a thoughtful, incisive exploration of the nature of connection.” Deadline: Midnight, February 16, 2009.

So, I’m not usually one to make a big hoopla about Valentine’s Day, but I’ll make an exception this year.

I opened my mail last week to find an envelope from HarperPerennial. Inside was my very own personal copy of a pocket-sized paperback (4X6, a little smaller in size than your average Valentine’s Day Card, but chock full of so many more wishes!) Six Word Memoirs of Love and Heartbreak: From Writers Famous and Obscure which features my very own six word memoir on page13:

Sleeping, our foreheads touch. Fates mingle.

This book is the second offering from SMITH Magazine whose initial invite to writers two years ago was a simple one (inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s “For Sale: baby shoes, never worn): Everyone has a story. Can you tell yours in six words? The submissions poured in like crazy and soon enough they had published theNYT bestselling Not Quite What I Was Planning.

In the introduction to Love and Heartbreak, the editors Rachel Fershleiser and Larry Smith write:

As we’ve sifted through piles of briefly encapsulated lives, we’ve seen themes emerge … By far the most common thread, however, is love. Passionate love, parental love, platonic love–it seemed to be the most universally life-changing factor for storytellers of every age, background and worldview.

This book celebrates life in all its shades of red–a valentine, if you will, to every kind of love. But it’s also a nod to love’s evil twin: heartache.

Indeed, many of the memoirs in Love and Heartbreak focus on the latter, but since Cupid’s Day is on the horizon, let’s flex our writing muscles by taking a whirl at penning a six-word memoir on love, whatever that may mean to you. Consider it your Valentine. Post it here in the comments section, then go to sixwordmemoirs.com and share it with the readers and editors of SMITH magazine. You never know. It may end up in a book someday. The “best” memoir submitted in the comments section will win a free copy of this book, courtesy of SMITH magazine.

I’ll leave you with this some of my favorite “Valentines” and a book trailer for inspiration.

We belly laugh every single day. – Michelle Ottey
My life’s accomplishments? Sanity and you. – Elisabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)
Bachelor visits library, books wife (Nonfiction). – Michael Perry
It helps to label the books. – Juan Antonio del Rosario
Hired me. Fired me. Married me. – Julie Klam
True love is a nephew’s hug. – Alison Schulak-Moore (in honor of my nephew’s 2nd birthday today!)
Cynical New Yorker convinced of soulmate. – Kate Hamill
It’s just a matter of luck. – Ayelet Waldman

Oh, and if you happen to be in town on the 14th (I won’t), maybe you’ll want to check out this event: February 14, NYC, Housing Works Bookstore, 8pm. The Valentine’s Day Personal Media Mixer & Confessional Culture Variety Show : PostSecret, Found Magazine, Mortified, and Cassette From My Ex join with SMITH Magazine for a very special evening to benefit Housing Works. Buy tickets here.

OK, so what’s your six-word memoir of love? Deadline: Midnight, February 16, 2009.

Last Wednesday night, I had the chance to sit in on a fascinating conversation on “Religion and the Imagination” with Salman Rushdie. The author of Midnight’s Children [soon to be adapted for film by Deepa Mehta], The Satanic Verses, Haroun and the Sea of Stories, and East, West was, of course, the perfect person to launch Columbia University’s newly founded Institute for Religion, Culture and Public Life. The Institute’s mission is to “bring together scholars and students in various fields to reflect and respond to the issues brought about by the “resurgence of religion and, with it, religious and cultural intolerance and conflict [that] are emerging as powerful forces in the new century.”

Orhan Pamuk, the 2006 Nobel Laureate in Literature, introduced Rushdie as someone who has been “fighting religious intolerance with humor, proving that we can fight moral seriousness with humor.”

The stage in Columbia’s always inspiring (and very crowded) Low Library Rotunda was set simply with two arm chairs—one for Rushdie, who was was all suited up, and the other for his “interviewer” Gauri Viswanathan, Professor of Religion and Comparative Literature, dressed as always, in a sari. The conversation was an intellectual one peppered with doses of Rushdie’s subtle (and sometimes pointed) humor and the topics of conversation ranged from everything to his relationship with religion and his hopes for robust religious debate to his thoughts on Obama’s win earlier that week.

“We don’t live in a world of drama, dance, and love… We live in a world of death, destruction, and bombs… I’m hoping something happened on Tuesday that will change that,” Rushdie said, referring to the election of Barack Obama. “I have no utopian tendencies. I’m good at seeing what I don’t like. But this week, I do feel optimistic,” Rushdie laughed. “It’s an odd feeling, one I’m not familiar with. The last time I felt like this was after the election of Tony Blair and look what happened!” Rushdie paused as the audience chuckled at his dark skepticism, then added, “ I hope it’s not that way this time. Actually … I don’t think it is.”

More on the evening’s highlights below the fold. (more…)

Last night, inside the Manhattan Center on W. 34th Street, several thousand people received hugs from the 54 year old Mata Amritanandamayi, better known as Amma.

She began hugging strangers in her teens, first on the streets of her village in Kerala, India, then later in living rooms in Madison, Wis., and Dallas. Word spread about her message of unconditional love and, as many of her followers believe, the healing power of her embrace [see full story in yesterday's NYT]

I was there watching. She sat on a stage, the hugging mother guru running a marathon of embraces. Countless hours, countless whispers, countless smiles doled out to young and old, black and white and brown and yellow. Never tiring. As long as 12 hours, into the wee hours of the night.

At about 9:30, I, on the other hand, was tired and decided to go home. I still carry with me the hug that I recieved six years ago at Amritapuri, Amma’s ashram in the backwaters of Kerala. My mom and sister and I had traveled to India a year after my father’s death, carrying an urn full of his ashes with us. While on a relaxing backwater cruise in Kerala’s waterways, the boatmen had told us that we were just outside Amma’s ashram. How could we not go?

When we got off our houseboat, Mom somehow figured out a way for us to finagle our way into the front of a very long line. Oh no, we weren’t cutting. “We’re only passing through for an hour. It’s very important that we meet Amma,” she said to everyone who stood in her way, until one of the very kind volunteers came forward and led us to the stage.

Standing in a mad rush of people, my mom pushed my sister and me forward and pressed us into Amma’s chest. Leaning forward, she whispered conspiratorially to Amma, “Bless my girls. Find husbands for my two daughters. ” (more…)

Rafta Rafta The New Group Through June 21, 2008 Tickets $55 ($41.25 with promo code)

When I was in London last year, there was one West End production that I was determined to see—Ayub Khan-Din’s “Rafta, Rafta” at the National Theatre. Of course, as my luck would have it, the one weekend I was there was when the play was on a hiatus, so I returned stateside without having watched the stage event which was described by the Daily Telegraph as “’an irresistible mixture of bonhomie, bumptiousness and egomania…irresistibly comic.” It goes without saying that when “Rafta, Rafta” made its off-Broadway debut at the Acorn Theatre in NYC earlier this month, I was eager to see how it had survived its journey across the Atlantic.

“Rafta, Rafta” is brought to us by Ayub Khan-Din, he who is best known for the brilliant “East is East,” which shone a spotlight on middle class British-Indian family in the 70s. While “East is East” also addressed themes of race and cultural adjustment—i.e. political issues outside the home, “Rafta Rafta” is much more of a comedy and drama about domestic politics.

Based on Bill Naughton’s 1963 play “All in Good Time,” “Rafta, Rafta” (directed by Scott Elliot who also directed the 1999 production of “East is East” and the original “Avenue Q” production at The New Group) is a comic yet poignant look at the challenges of extended family living in contemporary UK.

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“Everyone has a story. Can you tell yours in six words?” Take this question that SMITH magazine posed to its readers and throw it out to a room full of teen writers — and what do you get? A bunch of pretty amazing six-word memoirs, many of which are certainly worthy of being published in the SMITH’s next six-word memoir book. (Part I, Not Quite What I Was Planning, has gotten lots of press lately.)

Last week, I had the pleasure of teaching my workshop, Flash Memoir: Write Your Life, One Story at a Time, at the annual Young Authors Conference, organized by BOCES-NY. Each year, enthusiastic and talented high school writers from Rockland, Putnam, and Westchester counties in NY are invited to spend a day attending writing workshops. Organizer and teacher Cathy Greenwood likes to call it a “pep rally for writers.” I like the sound of that.

In the Flash Memoir workshop, we read samples of six-word memoirs that were published in Not Quite What I Was Planning, inspired by Hemingway’s story, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Then, we wrote our own six-word memoirs. The participants in my first session were so eager to read each other’s work and to have a memento of their creative writing activity that we decided to post and share their memoirs here.

Simple things were never made complicated.

In a moment, this one ends.

The American dream swallowed me whole.

With your lemons, make Italian ice.

Jeans too tight from baby fat.

Fascination becomes habitual in chem class.

Writing teacher. More latter, than former.

I will never be as lost.

I like goldfish better than people.

If you want, I’ll smile too.
When we meet at the crossroad.

Misanthropic teen seeks someone who understands.

In the end, we’re still here.

Don’t forget to pack clean underwear.

Sight and sand and feeling.

Big smile, broken heel, fading pictures.

Not a great student, been laid.

Cheering for the wrong, who cares?

The beauty of an unborn flower.

Take the pain. Make success. Struggle.

The world is changing, not me.

I’m glad I’m not in school.

Eat vegetables. Eat your cake too.

No longer nymph. Now a goddess.

Unplanned situations are sometimes wished upon.

Smeared mascara, salty droplets, losing you.

Learning not to wait till tomorrow.

Walking with one light, through darkness.

I found what I was after.

Best friend, one guy, who’s gonna win?

(Great work, young writers! Thank you for sharing your work. I hope that some of you will go here to submit your work.)

To mark Women’s History Month, I’ve been featuring works by desi women poets all month long [catch up on past week’s poets: Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Shailja Patel]. Today’s featured work is “Corona, Queens,” by Bushra Rehman, a bi-coastal, Pakistani-American poet whose words sing of place, family, religion, and identity with an honest, insightful, and poignant sensibility.

A few years ago, the Bowery Poetry Club and City Lore asked a bunch of NYC poets to write an epic poem about New York. Bushra was one of them, and of course, she wrote about Corona, Queens, the neighborhood where she lived as a child.

Corona, Queens

Fitzgerald called Corona the valley of ashes
when the Great Gatsby drove past it, but
we didn’t know about any valley of ashes
because by then it had been topped off by our houses,
the kind made from brick this tan color,
no self-respecting brick would be at all.

We knew Corona,
home of World’s Fair relics
where it felt as if some ancient tribe
of white people had lived there long ago.
It was our own Stonehenge,
our own Easter Island sculptures
made from a time when New York City
and all the country
was imagining the world’s future.

Read the rest of this poem and find out why I think it’s a perfect accompaniment to the (currently showing) multimedia exhibit Crossing the Blvd: Strangers, Neighbors, Aliens in a New America over at Sepia Mutiny, where I’m guest blogging this month.

Two of my friends who live in the Bay area are leading writing workshops in the upcoming months. If you have been thinking about taking a class, honing your skills, or simply being part of a writing community, these two women are phenomenal writers and great teachers.

Bushra Rehman performs her poetry regularly in theaters and colleges around the country. Lately, she’s been spending her time flying through the streets of Oakland and Brooklyn, writing an on the road adventure novel for Muslim girls. Bushra is co-editor of the anthology Colonize This! Young Women of Color on Today’s Feminism (Seal Press, 2002) which has been adopted as essential reading material in women’s studies and ethnic studies classes around the United States. She has been featured in The New York Times and NY Newsday and her work has appeared in ColorLines, Mizna, Curve, SAMAR, and Bottomfish.

Bushra and I used to work and teach ESL workshops together at The College of New Rochelle, and have been friends and occasional writing buddies ever since. Her upcoming workshop:

Two Truths and a Lie: Writing Creative Non-Fiction
a 10-week writing workshop with Bushra Rehman
Mondays, February 19 – April 28, 2008, 7-9 PM

Laura Deutsch is a writer, editor, and teacher based in Mill Valley, California. Her personal essays, features, travel, and humor pieces have appeared in the New York Times, More magazine, San Francisco Chronicle, Mademoiselle, and more. Her personal essays and travel pieces have been anthologized in three books and her commentary has aired on public radio.

Laura and I first met at a writing retreat with Natalie Goldberg in New Mexico back in 2000, and were cross-country telephone and email writing buddies for quite some time. A few years ago, I attended and co-facilitated a couple of sessions at one of her weekend workshops out in Petaluma, Ca., and can definitely say that it was a most refreshing experience that filled up my creative well. Her upcoming workshops:

Writing as a Spiritual Practice
A weekend workshop with Laura Deutsch and Edward Espe Brown at the Tassajara Monastery.
May 4 – 9, 2008

Writing Retreat in the South of France
May 17 – 24, 2008, with Laura Deutsch

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A memorial service for Madeleine L’Engle will be held on Nov. 28 at 4 pm at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine (112th St. and Amsterdam Ave.). The event is open to the public. From the press release:

L’Engle, author of more than 60 books including the children’s classic A WRINKLE IN TIME, died September 6 at 88. L’Engle had been the volunteer librarian and writer in residence at the Cathedral since 1966.

“Madeleine’s long relationship with the Cathedral was a strong one. The Cathedral, its staff and ministries informed her work, and in turn she inspired those who knew her with her generosity, spirit, and intelligence” said Dean Kowalski.

“The memorial service will be a wonderful time to gather friends and admirers, family and colleagues to celebrate her life,” said L’Engle’s granddaughter Charlotte Jones Voiklis. “She would have been 89 on November 29th, so this will be a lovely and fitting birthday present.”

Music for the service will be provided by Cathedral organist Timothy Brumfield and Manhattan Transfer founding member Laurel Massé. Selections will include some of L’Engle’s favorite hymns (including the Tallis canon and Dona nobis pacem) and music of Bach. The service will be a traditional requiem mass, with The Right Reverend Mark Sisk, Bishop of New York, celebrant and The Very Reverend James Kowalski, Dean of the Cathedral, preacher. All are welcome. A reception will follow.

In the spring, I had invited Ms. Engle to contribute an essay about the magic of stories to an educational publishing project. From the longer piece, which will be published posthumously, the following passage continues to resonate with me:

When I was a child, story helped me find out who I was in a world staggering from the effects of that war which was meant to end all wars but which, alas, was the beginning of a century of continuing war. Story helped me to accept that human beings do terrible things to other human beings, but that human beings also do marvelous things. Story was a mirror in which I could be helped to find the image of God in myself and which demanded my participation. A reader has an opportunity for collaboration that is denied the television viewer. In television it is all done for you. The images are there. You sit passively and accept them. But the reader must see in his mind’s eye the people and the pieces of the story, must make decision, argue, if necessary, with the author. I argue with authors violently with pencil. “No!” or “Yes!” in the margin. The reader plays an active and essential part in bringing words to life, and the reader, like the writer, must temporarily abandon his control and open himself to the aerial, underwater area of creativity. And this takes courage.

There’s a fascinating piece in the Week in Review section– A Good Mystery: Why We Read, by Motoko Rich, that reminded me of this quote yesterday. And, I came across an interview with Anne Fadiman in the Guardian. I’m always about paired readings, so these are my Monday morning picks.

Enjoy!