My Friend Julia’s Terrible Marvel
So I was supposed to go to a party today and I was really excited because it’s been AGES since I’ve been to a party and because it was a book party for my pal Julia. And now I can’t go. I have the tile guys and the dry wall guys and two delayed deliveries (although the tile guys and the dry wall guys could probably sign for them) and this damn essay that’s six weeks overdue and the scene I promised to post on Monday on my critique group, plus I’m waiting on a phone call and I have to get the house cleaned out NOW because the dumpster will be gone forever on Tuesday . . .
I’m going to miss Julia’s party.
Julia is the best. I was in a Romantic poetry class about a thousand years ago working on my PhD, listening to the excellent professor (Hi, Les!) lecture on Byron or Shelley or Keats, and this curly-headed brunette leaned over and wrote this fake headline about Byron on my notebook
(Did I mention Julia’s a journalist? She was reporting for the Columbus Dispatch then) and the whole headline thing is catnip to me anyway, so I wrote one and then she wrote one and by the end of the class we had some great ones, so I went home to my MacPlus (I told you it was a thousand years ago) and mocked up a newspaper with the heads and I’d post a scan of it here BUT WORDPRESS WON”T LET ME POST PICTURES. Yeah, we’re working on it. Where was I? Oh, right, so Julia became my first collaborator on a fake newspaper front page.
Then I read a romance novel and switched over to the MFA program and Julia got her PhD and I got my MFA and Julia went to Chicago to write for the Tribune and I went to Cincinnati to write for St. Martins. We kept in touch, trying to see each other whenever she came to Columbus to see family or I went to Chicago on a book tour–talking to Julia was one of the best things about my PhD. and I didn’t want geography to take that away from us–but it was really hard, especially when she took a sabbatical from the paper to teach at Princeton and go to movies with Joyce Carol Oates. Then she’d come back to Ohio and go to Bob Evans with me since there’s one at the Jefferson Outlet Mall that’s halfway between Cincy and Columbus. Julia is open-minded and versatile, along with all her other sterling qualities.
The thing about Julia is that her mind is so sharp and her sense of humor is so deep, that conversation with her makes my head explode. The last time we were at Bob Evans, she told me that you have to give up on justice in the world or you’ll always be a victim. That one got to me because I’d recently been set upon by someone who said, “My life is hell and it’s all your fault.” I remember thinking, “All you need to do is accept responsibility for your own happiness, and your world would improve radically.” But I’d missed that her victimhood was because she expected the world to be fair; maturity isn’t just accepting responsibiity, it’s giving up the idea that the world owes you anything. I love ideas like that, the ideas that cut through the fog and illuminate the problem at the center. There was more at that lunch, we talked for hours, and it was the best day I’d had in months. It didn’t hurt that Julia prefaced one comment by saying, “I can’t remember whether it was you or Salman Rushdie who told me this.” It’s so rare that anybody confuses me with Salman Rushdie. But mostly we talked about the book she was writing.
Okay, first some back story: Those of you who follow the Crusie/Mayer collaboration know that one of my big complaints about Bob’s early writing was his infodump, which I tried to beat out of him early in our partnership, in e-mail, of course:
From: Jenny Crusie
Subject: Re: Exposition
You know, if Crawford is telling Wilder stuff he needs to know, I’m fine with it. It’s the stuff where the story stops and the author steps in to explain the history of the Gatling Gun that I’m going to get snitty about.From: Bob Mayer
Subject: Re: Exposition
Fuck. I just did the Gatling gun scene.
I am learning from the master. Instead of dumping it, I’m putting it in witty and snappy dialogue between Crawford and Wilder. Then I’m going to do witty and snappy dialogue between Sniper and the tour guide who will tell him the history of the bridge. Quite fascinating.
Okay, it took me awhile to beat it out of him, but soon after that “the history of the Gatling gun” became shorthand for whatever we were fighting about in the book. “You’re doing the history of the Gatling Gun again,” I’d say, and he’d scream and cut the infodump.
So back at Bob Evans, I asked Julia what the book she was working on was about and she said, “The history of the Gatling gun.”
No, honestly.
After I stopped laughing, she started to talk about Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel,, about Gatling and the kind of man he was, about the impact of rapid fire from a distance on not only warfare but American society, about the social and political ramifications on a global level, and it was fascinating, she made it such a story. I think that’s what makes her such a terrific journalist. Others talk about “getting the story,” but Julia understands that it really is a story, not just gathering facts and reporting, but reporting them in the context of life, of the human experience. I don’t think she ever loses her objectivity, although I know there are times she has to hold onto it with both hands, but I also don’t think she ever forgets that facts only have meaning when they’re seen in relation to people.
We talked about that some, too, about why people love story. Julia said she thought that fiction was the finest kind of writing (I’m paraphrasing) and I said that I thought narrative non-fiction was, because what people wanted was “tell me a story and make it true.” The finest fiction feels true whether it’s factual or not, you’re capturing a truth about the human experience. But narrative non-fiction takes what really happened and organizes it into a gripping story, couches it in terms of the humans who experienced it. Julia is a genius at this kind of writing, and I’m in awe of her for that.
Take the series of articles she wrote for the Trib about a town hit by a tornado called “A Wicked Wind,” a series that I think is a perfect illustration of the power of narrative non-fiction. I wasn’t the only one; she won the Pulitzer Prize for it. (Did I mention that I’m close personal friends with Julia Keller, the famous Pulitzer-prize-winning journalist who wrote Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel?)
So today is Julia’s book party up in Columbus and I’m to my ass in dry wall and tile and deadlines and bad knees and overdue phone calls and . . . I can’t go to Julia’s party. The only good thing is that Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel is out now and I have a copy and it’s marvelous. Other people agree; check out what people are saying at Amazon says about it:
Review
“With a rat-a-tat pace and a wicked sense of humor, Julia Keller uses the story of Gatling’s famous machine-gun to take us on an exuberant and entertaining tour through American capitalism in the nineteenth-century. This book is a carnival for history buffs – bursting with colorful characters, uncanny connections, and contagious enthusiasm.”
—Debby Applegate, winner of the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for The Most Famous Man in America: The Biography of Henry Ward Beecher“Julia Keller has not only given us the fascinating story of the Gatling gun and its colorful inventor, but has also placed it into a valid and original context. She takes us into the middle of nineteenth century America as it really was: a westward-looking continent packed with dreams, energy, and ambitious practical ideas, a place where mechanical inventions created a vision of limitless power that shaped much of the nation’s philosophy and destiny. This is the story of the artifact as changing history, the early machine gun as bringing about as great a transformation as the simple stirrup did in its era. If you haven’t heard of Julia Keller, you’ll hear of her now.”
—Charles Bracelen Flood, author of Grant and Sherman: The Friendship that Won the Civil War and past president of PEN American Center.A Pulitzer Prize winner explores the role of the first machine gun in transforming America into a superpower . . . In Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel, Julia Keller offers a riveting account of the Gatling gun’s invention, its misunderstood creator, and its tremendous impact on American and world events. She also shows how the gun, in its combination of ingenuity, idealism, and destructive power, perfectly exemplified the paradox of America’s rise as a world superpower. Amazon Review
Wicked, exuberant, riviting, entertaining, great sense of humor: that’s my pal Julia Keller, the Pulitzer Prize winner. And that party today is going to be wicked, exuberant, and entertaining because Julia will be there. And I WON’T. Thank God, we’ll always have Bob Evans.
Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel by Julia Keller. Really, you should read it.
You are a lifesaver! I now know what to get the nephew who is majoring in history for his next gift. Way to go.
I think I will read read it. I love narrative non-fiction. Poor Baby, no party, and Julia sounds like a blast.On the up side your house is plugging right along. Keep your eye on the prize, and have a great day.
A friend and I were just talking about how we’ve learned that we regret the things we didn’t do, more than the things we did. Any chance you can transfer the calls to your iPhone, and/or make a late appearance to the party after the deliveries arrive?
The book sounds great! DH is a history buff; I’ll definitely have to look it up.
Bob Evans. Now there is an Ohio phenomenon. I grew up with it, and have barely thought of it since I moved to the Southwest. Now I’m kind of craving it again. Thanks. I think. Have a lovely day drywalling. Who wants to go to some shoddy party and talk to entertaining, intelligent people and drink great champagne and eat delectable, high-calorie finger foods when they can lay tile and apply dry wall — or at least watch others do such things — instead?
Go to the party. You can do the writing later. Call forwarding. The drywall guys can sign for the package. C’mon. You’re missing a party because of a _dumpster_?
I vote for going to the party too. The contractors will be there tomorrow…and the day after and the day after…. Take some advil for your knee, let the dry wall guys sign for the package and go to the party! You can write later, freshly inspired by having gotten away from “it” all for a while. She confused you with Salmon Rushdie for goodness sake!
I agree with everyone else–go to the damn party. Drywall and tile go on forever, but Julia is only going to be having ONE book party. In the scheme of things I think that is more important… Really. Go have fun–my god, woman, you certainly deserve it! Tell the guys they can have the house to themselves today and go…
Yes, but when Jenny got back from the party, she’d feel even more behind. I’m sorry that you can’t go to the party, but, really, it’s probably like a wedding, where it’s great to go if you know lots of other guests, but you sure don’t get to spend much time with the “guest(s) of honor”. You absolutely deserve to go (and yippee, I hope you had fun, if you DID go), but you just got through telling us that Julia explained to you how rarely we get what we deserve.
So, if you truly did stay home, I hope it was truly productive time, and not frittered away (which is what always happens to MY time!).
It sounds like an excellent book, and your description of good narrative non-fiction is so perfect!
Oh yeah–and Salmon Rushdie. Anyone who can start a sentence with “I forget whether it was Salmon Rushdie or you…” is well-worth leaving a dumpster full of debris for. Even if it WILL disappear forever on Tuesday.
Think about it. Julia. Scintillating conversation that does not revolve around grout colors and texturing issues. Wolfie can sign for the deliveries. Milton can oversee the workers. You know you want to go–just do it already!
Teensy nit-pick: I think Mr. Rushdie spells his name SALMAN.
It’s a shame about missing the party, but your friend Julia will know you are there in spirit. And you would probably only be able to speak to her for 5 minutes anyway. Of course, it’s going to be hard on all those other guests who were hoping to have a chance to meet J.Crusie…
I just read Julia’s story about Utica. Wow. You are right–she is an awesome writer. Go to the party. Celebrate. And the rest of you–click on the link and read the articles. Gripping, powerful, moving… I was totally drawn into it. Wow is all I can say. Wow…
Yeah, I wrote that in a hurry. Must fix my typo on whatshisname.
But I got my phone call. New post to follow shortly.
Okay, if I had come to /this/ post first I’d probably be chiming in with everyone else about the party. Yeah, I know - delivery men. But I don’t have to say it because I read the post after this first and that’s something that clearly comes above and beyond parties for bfs.
And it just so happens that I know of a certain group of people who plan to be invading Powell’s in Portland this weekend (shh, don’t tell them). I like history stuff; I’ll look for Julia’s book.
Oh, boy, this (Mr. Gatling’s Terrible Marvel) does sound really, really good. (-: One of my favorite non-fic writers is Jared Diamond, and this sounds strangely like that.
OK, on the reassuring side, at a party like that, she probably won’t have time to chat. On the “don’t let your house take over your life” side, you can always order another dumpster. (-: Only remember the sentence which suits you. (But since it’s Sunday morning over in Ohio, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.)
I am not up to speed on the WP image-posting problem, but in the meantime, can’t you post your photos to a photo service like flickr—my favorite but not free if you want unlimited uploads—or snapfish—free but with not-as-nice of an interface—and embed them here?
OK, so I lied: snapfish ain’t going to get it done. However, photobucket or BOXSTr will (reference here). And using one of these services as a rule instead, as the reference article suggests, will help minimize your own hosting and bandwidth costs. Just a suggestion.
I’m a bit baffled by the idea that caring about justice can be reduced to the idea that the world owes something to a particular individual. As a blue-eyed blonde American, I don’t actually run into much in the way of prejudice in Berlin: I speak an aspirational language, so nobody cares if my German is under par; if the idea of a Master Race were not passé I could comfortably pass as Aryan (and even the neonazis of Neukölln are not going to give me a hard time). So, hm, there’s something immature about being outraged if my Peruvian friend gets beaten up in the U-Bahn? Or, hm, it’s immature if he’s outraged, but it’s OK if I’m outraged because I wasn’t personally beaten to a pulp? If you’re outraged because America has suspended habeas corpus to hold people without trial at Guantamo Bay for years you’ll always be a victim? JK may think that; it would surprise me if Salman Rushdie had much time for it.
Sorry, Helen, I phrased that badly.
Caring about justice in interactions between human beings is worthwhile and necessary. Assuming that the world in general owes you justice is self-defeating.
When I was a thirty-three-year-old single mother struggling to keep my life together, I was diagnosed with stage three cancer. If I’d concentrated on how unfair that was (it was), how unjust that it should happen to me when I was working so hard for others (I was), I’d have made myself a victim. I wasn’t a victim, I was somebody who got sick. That’s not the same as the injustices that human beings visit upon each other. There, people are clearly being victimized by SOMEONE, there’s someone to fight against, a wrong to right.
But expecting the world in general to be a just place is setting yourself up for victimhood. “That tree fell on my car, that’s not FAIR.” “I wanted that job and I worked hard to get it and that’s not FAIR.” You start that, and you’ll spend the rest of your life complaining about how life treats you badly. Life doesn’t treat you at all, it just perks along.
Gitmo is not life, it’s a vile injustice perpetrated upon human beings by a government that spurns its own constitution. Xenophobia is not life, it’s a human failing, something that can and should be fought. Disease, natural disasters, the loss of loved ones . . . don’t expect justice from life or you’ll have set your life up to be one outrage after another.
First, thanks for the clarification on justice — that put it right into perspective, and I so agree!
Second, F… the drywall!!!!! Life is too short, friends are too important, celebrations like this are too rare. Next time, go to the party!
Hi! My name is Mônica, I am an upper middle class Brazilian woman.
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I was leisurely browsing around your blog, led by a link somebody posted in a forum I frequently visit, when I read your comments about justice and responsibility for one’s own happiness. I think your comments are very thought provoking, and I’d like to share some of the thoughts your words provoked in me.
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In my opinion, if people accepted responsibility for their own happiness only, the world would become radically worse and uglier than it is today.
The problem (and danger) in having generalizing ideas like your friend’s and yours, is that it’s impossible to make them fit in all the thousands of possibilities of situations involved. And there is also the risk that, from the moment those ideas become public, people may, and probably will, take them as universal truths, without having any second thoughts about them. Most people don’t ponder much about assertive, and consequently very convincing thoughts like those. The majority will just accept and adopt those ideas, and eventually repeat them to others as if they were their own. And so on.
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As an example of people not accepting responsibilities for their own happiness only, I can mention the 22-year Brazilian military dictatorship (1964-1986). At that time, if every Brazilian took responsibility for their own happiness only, without looking for justice and dignity, we would still be living under that terrible and excruciating military dictatorship. “The world”, in that case, owned us many things, starting from democracy and freedom.
Taking responsibility for our own wellness and for other people’s as well isn’t a foolish idea at all. It’s a political (note that I’m using the word “political” here in a much broader sense. See below the etymology of the word “political”*) behavior that you just can’t give up like that in your daily life. We can’t close our eyes to what is happening out there and enjoy our little everyday lives, just because, “alas, the world is the way it is…”, and that’s it. This is the easiest way out.
I’m still able to get outraged over everything that I consider unfair or wrong. Actually, that’s the best part of me and I’m very proud of it.
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*From the “Online Etymology Dictionary”:
“politic (adj.)
1427, from M.Fr. politique (14c.) “political,” from L. politicus “of citizens or the state, civil, civic,” from Gk. politikos “of citizens or the state,” from polites “citizen,” from polis “city” (see policy (1)). Replaced in most adj. senses by political (1551). The verb meaning “to engage in political activity” is first recorded 1917, a back-formation from politics.”
“Life doesn’t treat you at all, it just perks along.”
*sigh* This is why you and Julia are the writers and I’m not. If I’d tried to say the same thing - and I have - I could have gone through a ream of paper and not said it nearly as well.
Ok, this cracked me up…
“That tree fell on my car, that’s not FAIR.”
Mainly because, well, a tree DID fall on my car. While I was in it, in fact, and despite the roof caving in, the windshield being pulverized and my head being mere inches from where the tree hit the roof…I walked away without even so much as a scratch. And it was a HUGE tree, too. LOLOL And it WASN’T fair, but I wasn’t injured, paralyzed, or dead, so I think it WAS pretty damn lucky.
But even that day, mere hours after it happened, I was talking to my dad and I couldn’t even say the words “A tree fell on my car” without laughing. Still can’t. It’s so ridiculous a thing. LOLOL In fact, I ended up using one of the pictures of the tree and my car as my Christmas card that year cautioning people against scheming greenery. LOLOL.
This entry and your resultant replies, combined, are one of the best things I’ve ever read. Thanks for this. Only for a grandkid should you not keep this front and center for a month.
Except for the bit where you’re feeling too overwhelmed to get to your party. Reminds me of Moxy Fruvous (read in the umlaut), “My baby loves a bunch of authors”.
You know, a tree hit my car once, too. It was parked under the tree in a storm and the tree fell,and when I’d tried to tell people that a tree hit my car, they’d crack up. “Leaped right in front of you, did it?” No, it HIT MY CAR.
Sigh. I feel your pain, Lynda.