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Radio Commentaries: Overcoming Hardship | Book Reviews | Hunger Strike

No Guts, No Glory
By Victoria Zackheim
Travel Adventures of a Self-Schlepping Author

I was thrilled when I signed the contract to have my first book published. Who wouldn't be, after sixteen years of writing, revising, deleting and self-deprecating? Holding the finished product, smelling the ink and seeing my name printed on the cover, these were dreams come true. Dealing with the fear that no one on earth would ever actually buy it, read it or like it would come later.

The publisher was a small Northwest press, but that did nothing to diminish my sense of accomplishment. Nor was it minimized when I was told that not only was there no budget for public relations or promotional events-book fairs, readings in bookstores, special appearances, etc.-but that all travel and advertising expenses would come out of my pocket. What's more, I was now in charge of all reviews, articles and interviews. If The Bone Weaver was going to sell, I'd be the one making it happen.

What was I thinking? I honestly don't know what I expected, but I recall very clearly what I imagined: adoring crowds; newspaper coverage; bookstore readings, with popping flashbulbs and fans lined up, my novel clutched in their hands as they waited their turn to get my autograph. That may sound arrogant, but my first reading was in front of 120 people, 57 of whom bought the novel and stood in line to have it autographed. Publish and they will come!

I tried to recall this success months later when I was standing in a charming little bookstore in Port Arthur, WA, a village tucked away on Bremerton Island, and wishing that someone other than the owner would show up for the reading. After an hour of waiting around in the empty store, the nice woman asked me to autograph a few books. I nearly refused, concerned that she would never be able to sell them. Realizing, however, that "saving face" could go both ways, I signed and then hit the road.

A few hours later, standing at the railing of the Kingston-Edmonds ferry, with coastal villages slipping by and a snow-capped Mount Rainier in the distance, it occurred to me that this book tour thing might not be the marketing tool I had imagined. I considered taking all the unsold books, removing their jackets and papering my bathroom with them, but it was too early to give up.

There are no roadies on a book tour. I expected the book tour experience to be pure delight, with a touch of anxiety. I've got forty years of public speaking behind me, so I figured that any difficulties would arise from the logistics-such as connecting flights and arriving at events on time-rather than appearing before a roomful of strangers.

When the invitation came to participate in the Wordslingers Festival in Nevada City, I spent hours poring over the book, choosing the best passages to read, and then writing concise and (of course) fascinating introductions to each passage. Settled in with the panel of Wordslinger authors, I was surprised when one of them asked everyone in the room to stand and sing Amazing Grace. Was I supposed to have a theme song and no one told me?

This might be a good time to mention that my novel is neither a sci-fi thriller nor a bodice-ripper. It's a generational novel about a university professor whose life-long friend has just died. Distraught, lonely and questioning the choices she has made in her life (career vs. family, for one), she sets off on a journey to understand how she came to this lonely place. There are no aliens (at least, not of the E.T. type) and no scenes of seduction. Instead, the reader is taken back to 1887, a time when her family struggled to survive pogroms, illness and the violence of shtetl life in nineteenth-century Eastern Europe.

While many people know that a shtetl is a Jewish village in tsarist Russia, there are those who see the word and assume it's a typographical error. Which might explain why, when my readings are advertised in small-town papers, the crowds that materialize sometimes number in single digits. It's no problem, unless you're the one paying for airline tickets, rental cars, hotels and meals. Or when that one person in attendance is a 9 year-old girl left behind while her mother runs to the market. But think of it this way: somewhere near Poulbo, Washington, is a shtetl-wise little girl.

Which brings us to the ethnic thing. I've traveled tens of thousands of miles and appeared at bookstores, Jewish and non-Jewish book fairs, and various literary events. No matter where I am, or wish to go, I'm usually asked one of these two questions: The general public asks, "Is your novel a Jewish story?" and the Jewish book fair organizers ask, "Your novel is Jewish, isn't it?" I admit that I'm often tempted to respond, "Do you want it to be?" Over time, however, I've evolved to this conclusion: that while the story does goes back into the shtetls of eastern Europe, and while those shtetls were decidedly Jewish, The Bone Weaver is Jewish in the same way that Zorba the Greek is Greek.

Another kind of performance anxiety. A lot of my concerns about logistics were diminished when I realized that my partner of five years (a man of infinite patience and humor) intended to drive me to the airport, kiss me good-bye and wait in Baggage Claim upon each return. This means I only need to anguish over arriving safely and on time at my destination, being met by the designated driver, and then progressing to the event. All very Isabel Allende-like, right? Exciting, instilling in me the sense of what real writers experience. Unless the driver is waiting for you at the wrong gate. Don't ask.

My first book tour to Los Angeles (there have been four so far ) taught me a lot about schlepping, which is a Yiddish word that means "dragging my junk all over the place". On the outside chance that the book fairs might sell out (always the dreamer), I took two cases of books on the plane. They fit very nicely onto the little folding cart, although lifting them into and taking them down from the overhead bins is hard on the back.

Throughout the L.A. tour, I never broke the seal on either box, which I found particularly annoying, since the organizers had specifically requested that I bring those cases. Saying nothing (you always want to be asked back), I flew home, slept for three hours, and left at the crack of dawn for Texas and Florida, more than grateful to be able to travel without those heavy books.

After the Austin event, I felt very important when the emcee announced, "Victoria has to catch a flight to Florida, where she'll be appearing tomorrow, so let's give her our thanks" and I was escorted from the room amid robust applause. Could the National Book Award people hear that adulation?

Despite my concerns, I made the flight to Fort Lauderdale, tight connections and all, and immediately called the book fair coordinator to announce my arrival. "Wonderful!" replied Marcia, who had created an entire event around the "family tapestry" concept of my novel. Ever the professional, I asked, "And how many books did you get for the affair?" This question was followed by one of those lengthy and terrifying silences. "Sinking feeling" best describes the sensation when I suddenly understood that those cases of books I had schlepped to Los Angeles were intended for Fort Lauderdale.

A hundred people had paid a significant sum to eat, listen to the author and buy her book...and there were no books. The next morning, I bought lots of mailing labels. Following my lunchtime speech, I informed the audience that the book would be free, but the mailing labels were $18.95. And because the mistake was mine, I'd cover postage when I shipped the books.

Two important lessons were learned. First, that selling a virtual book has its risks. Second, that it's a good thing I didn't write a funny novel. When you write humor, the audience expects you to be humorous. On the other hand, if it's a serious book and you happen to say something funny, everyone is surprised and you feel quite clever for having pulled it off.

The world traveler seeks her fortune. I landed in Seattle during the worst storm of the year. It was so violent that the clerk at Hertz insisted I take a full-size car. Good thing, since the cheap one would've been blown off the highway and into the bay. When I arrived at the reading, I was pleased to find twelve people there. After all, it was a suburb north of Seattle; how many could I expect? Not a good question.

I admit to some ego deflation when the bookstore's owner mentioned that a children's author had spoken that same morning-to a crowd of five hundred. I quickly calculated the financial benefits of five hundred sales and restrained myself from weeping. There were still readings in a half-dozen bookstores between Seattle and Vancouver, B.C., so all was not lost. The Jewish book fair in Vancouver was the final event on this tour. It went very well, the sushi dinner afterward was quite good, and I thoroughly enjoyed the funky room at the old Sylvia Hotel on English Bay. On the other hand, I could have done without the food poisoning.

First printed in Independent Publisher

Commentary #3: Mimi Geerges Show

Overcoming Hardship

INTRO: Coming up next, commentator Victoria Zackheim talks about writers and how their personal misfortunes have resulted in some excellent books.

SCRIPT: I’m always fascinated by stories of people who overcome extraordinary odds. The theme is familiar: a tragic set of circumstances turned into something positive. As a writer, I’m especially attuned to writers who have not only ascended from the darkness, but have shared with us their new-found illumination.

Caroline Leavitt has written eight novels. When the New York Times Book Review wrote "There is no denying this author's talents," they had no idea they were writing about a woman who would find herself at death’s door…and refuse to pass through. When Caroline gave birth to her son in 1997, she figured she’d spend three days in hospital and go home. What she did not count on was a blood disease so rare, only four other cases had been documented. She lay weeks in a coma and underwent months of hospitalization and life-saving treatments. Leavitt responded to this nightmare with Coming Back to Me, an exceptional novel about Molly, a young woman who falls critically ill after the birth of her child. It is during Molly’s recovery that she discovers a different way to love and accept.

Marie Chaix was active in the Paris student rebellions of the 60’s. Up to that time, she was told that her military father was off somewhere serving his country. What she learned on her twenty-first birthday was that he was in prison, sentenced for being the aide to Jacques Doriot, a key figure in the fascist, pro-Nazi Vichy government. Devastated by this news, Marie compiled her rage, grief and confusion and gave us Les Lauriers du Lac de Constance, The Laurels of Lake Constance, a splendid memoir that exposed the most painful emotions…and catapulted Chaix into the forefront of late 20th-Century French authors.

Stephanie Williams received a diagnosis of cancer at the age of thirty. The ravages of that disease spread quickly, yet she chose to use whatever time she had to write the novel she always swore she would write. Between, during, and in spite of devastating chemotherapy, Williams was able to write Enter Sandman. With the help of family, friends, and her mentor, Ellie McGrath of McWitty Press, she even managed to complete the final edits. The book arrived from the printer and Stephanie held it in her hands. There would be no marriage, no children, but there would always be her novel. Stephanie Williams died before Enter Sandman hit the bookstores, but it was a dream fulfilled. Enter Sandman is funny and edgy, outrageous and sometimes troubling, but it’s a good read and profits go to cancer research.

Deborah Grabien, a medieval and Elizabethan historian, took her passion for English history and literature and created the Haunted Ballad series. Three years ago, diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, she knew only one direction to take: She would write a mystery series in which the main character, a world-class musician, discovers that he has MS. The first in this series is Rock and Roll Never Forgets. When I asked Deborah why she felt the need to exploit her misfortune, she announced, “If you got it, you might as bloody well use it!”

This is Victoria Zackheim, for The Mimi GUR-GIS Show.

Commentary #4: Mimi Geerges Show

Book Reviews

Have you ever wondered how authors feel when someone writes a terrible review of their book? Whether it’s a New York Times review, read by millions, or a little review in the Anytown, USA Gazette, a bad review….is a bad review.

As an author, I’ve had my bad reviews and I can tell you that surviving calls into play all sorts of body parts: stiff upper lip; thick skin; and a tough hide. On the other hand, I’ve never had to withstand the kind of attack that Walt Whitman experienced after the publication of his splendid book of poems, Leaves of Grass. One reviewer stated that the author was, and I quote: “…as unacquainted with art as a hog is with mathematics.” Imagine reading THAT about your labor of love…and not flying into a tearful rage.

I wonder if Emily Brontë took to her bed after the North British Review said about Wuthering Heights: “The only consolation…it will never be read”

If you’re going to write a book, keep in mind that it takes courage. And when the reviews begin to appear, I suggest you solicit support from friends, family, your agent, your publisher…anyone and everyone prepared to circle the wagons around what could easily become a damaged ego. Did I say “damaged”? How about ravaged.

I hope Leon Tolstoi’s friends rushed to his side when Anna Karenina was called “Sentimental rubbish”. And when a reviewer called Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 “…a continued and unmitigated bore”, did his friends give him solace…or did he lock his study door and refuse to come out? In either case, nothing deterred him from going on to write several more brilliant novels.

What about authors whose books become movies? Imagine millions of people flocking to theaters to see your story. Believe it or not, the big profits from the sale of the book, combined with the financial windfall that might be earned from the movie, do not change the fact that heart and soul have gone into the writing. When we put that much of ourselves into our work—even if we’re paid well for the effort—a bad review still hurts.

There’s another side of the literary coin, one that drives good authors to distraction. It’s the badly written book that, for some reason, receives glowing reviews. When this happens, I often have a niggling suspicion that the review was written by someone’s brother or aunt, best friend or lover…or someone who owes that author a great deal of money. And when a really bad book is made into an equally bad movie…and that author earns a small fortune…that’s just not right. (And no, this isn’t sour grapes. Not exactly.)

But come on! When one reviewer says of Charles Dickens, “We do not believe in the permanence of his reputation,” and another writes, “It is curious how incest, impotence, nymphomania, religious mania and real estate speculation can be so dull"…and the reference is to Lillian Hellman’s noteworthy play, Toys in the Attic, don’t you wonder if someone, somewhere, is settling an old score?

This is Victoria Zackheim, for the Mimi Geerges Show.

Commentary #4: Mimi Geerges Show

Non-violent protests: Hunger Strikes

Throughout history, there have been uprisings and wars. Whether it was a village skirmish, a population struggling to bring down a government, or a union of countries fighting for one common goal, armed conflict has always existed.

But there has also been another kind of dissent. Beginning in the centuries before Christ, man understood the power of non-violence. A villager owed money or goods by a neighbor could go to the debtor’s home and sit at the door, refusing to eat until the debt was paid. In India, this was called dharna.

Early in the twentieth century, Marion Dunlop was thrown into prison during the suffrage movement in England. She refused to eat and prison officials, fearing she might die a martyr, released her. When other imprisoned suffragettes began hunger strikes, the government decided to force-feed them. One of the women died from this practice…and became an instant martyr after all.

In Northern Ireland, the hunger strike was resurrected in the early 1900s by prisoners protesting British rule. Decades later, Belfast prisoner Bobby Sands and his fellow IRA soldiers fasted for more humane prison conditions. Sympathizers went so far as to elect several of the dying men to public office. Within a short time, ten of those young protestors were dead…and a few prison regulations were changed.

Perhaps the most famous non-violent protester in history is Mahatma Gandhi, who fasted to protest British rule in India. His hunger strikes set into motion international demands that the British curb their oppressive tactics…which they did.

And what about here, in the United States? Cesar Chavez, influenced by Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King, organized the United Farm Workers. Chavez fasted for 25 days to publicize the terrible living and working conditions of these migrant laborers. His willingness to die for improved conditions led to higher wages and more humane treatment.

In Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, hunger strikes have become a form of protest. Detainees suspected…but not formally accused…of terrorist activities began fasting in 2005. Changes were made by prison officials after several men were near death. The major concession that was granted? One glass of clean water at every meal.

The power of the non-violent hunger strike is being tested once again. On July fourth, 2006, a nationwide hunger strike began in Washington, D.C., with hundreds of men and women camped in front of the White House. The protest was scheduled to last up to two months, a life-threatening period of time. So who would do this…and why?

This protest is called Troops Home Fast and is sponsored by Code Pink, an organization of women opposed to the war in Iraq. They’re fasting to honor those men and women who have died, or have been injured, in this war. And they’re fasting to urge the government to bring our sons and daughters home.

Much like hunger strikers throughout history, the women of Code Pink are praying that their non-violent demonstration will be viewed by America as a profound desire to right a terrible wrong.

This is Victoria Zackheim, for The Mimi Geerges Show.