An unsent letter

by Joan

My writing directory includes a What Women Write folder where I store half-written blog posts. Some will be finished one day, others leave me baffled at why I imagined others might be interested. I like running Q&As because we get to peek inside our favorite authors' minds, learn about their motivations and interests. Sometimes my requests come from book signings, like with Vanessa Diffenbaugh and Jamie Ford, or, when I feel brave, email introductions, like with Kate Morton, Adriana Trigiani and Dani Shapiro.

A while back I began a note to one of my most beloved authors, first to tell her what her books have meant to me, second to invite her onto the blog. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated or why I hesitated, but the half-written invitation lingered in the someday folder.

I deeply regret not sending my invitation to Maeve Binchy. She died July 30 in Dublin at the young age of 72. But I will share my note here.

Dear Ms. Binchy,

My letter is long overdue—your books have lined my shelves ever since my oldest sister suggested I’d enjoy Light a Penny Candle over twenty-five years ago. She was right. Since that first book, I’ve read (and own) your sixteen novels and two of your short story collections. When I settle down with one of your books, I know I’m in gifted hands.

My letter stopped there, but today I finish it. 

Though I didn’t know you personally, my heart goes out to those who did. I will mourn you, but luckily for the rest of us, your characters will live on.

Through you, Ireland came to life for me on a glass lake, in a working-class pub, a convent school, a tailor shop, an Italian class. Through the characters you managed to draw as both ordinary and extraordinary at once. Thank you for your novels, for your Night of Rain and Stars, your Glass Lake and Circle of Friends, for your Firefly Summer. For your Heart and Soul that you shared with us so generously.

Maeve Binchy's inspirations were the people she saw on the street, the conversations she eavesdropped. She said she got some of her best material from riding the bus or listening on the old party telephone lines.

Over the last few days, I’ve read many touching obituaries, lovely tributes, and interviews and here. For those who’d like to hear her lovely voice and spirit, here’s a lovely 25-minute interview with Gay Byrne about her feelings on spirituality, life and writing.

When I met Elizabeth, she knew we'd hit it off when she learned we shared a favorite author. And Julie is a big fan, also. If there’s a silver lining to Ms. Binchy's untimely death, it’s that she had submitted another manuscript to her editor and they will set a release date for publication. 

What's your favorite Binchy book?

What does your book cover say about you?

by Joan

Recently I had hip surgery. After an initial Vicodin tea party, during which I watched movies from sunup to sundown, I decided I might open a book again. In my pre-crutch days, I read at least an hour a day, sometimes much longer as I delved into a unique plot or captivating characters. But for the first weeks after surgery I couldn’t get up the gumption. I’d been feeling down, in a very uninteresting melodramatic way that I despise, about getting old, about being out of shape, about not being able to put weight on my leg. Seeing pictures of myself in my thirties, in '80s leggings and a '90s bikini, didn’t help.

I crutched to my office for the first time and looked over my book collection, mostly literary and historical fiction, with a mystery or two added in. Choose something cheery, I told myself.

I was reminded of an RWA conference I attended several years ago. I’d signed up because I’d always heard the workshops were remarkable, even for those who don’t write (or read) romance. Not to mention, the conference attracts plenty of agents. The hearsay was accurate: The conference was worth every penny of the fee. At one of the sessions, I heard a speaker joke about literary fiction covers, how most show an empty swing or a dress without a body.

Looking over my shelves I realized, sure enough, except for my Maeve Binchy and Adriana Trigiani collections, the titles had similar covers: empty swings, a back shot of half a girl, grey misty cities, a lone swan. You get the picture. I found two promising choices that I’d forgotten buying, but when I started reading, both caused my eyes to roll by the second page. The cheeriness itself kept me from enjoying them.


It got me thinking about predictable and happy endings. I generally dislike knowing the fate of two characters from the beginning, especially if the ending is neatly tied-up. I want a character to feel redeemed or to have mastered the underlying conflict of the book without being able to predict the resolution. Many times, those resolutions leave the main character with a sense of loss about one major issue but hope for the future. Seems I'm happier with what those literary covers offer.

I’m almost healed and ready to get back into shape, and well on the way to my old reading habits. I finished Elizabeth Kostova’s Swan Thieves and Amy Bloom’s Away, and am joining Elizabeth’s classic challenge and reading David Copperfield and Jude the Obscure.

I’ve left the Vicodin behind, but I will sneak in a movie now and again.

Comfort Zone

by Joan

My book interests are somewhat eclectic and range from literary and historical fiction to family saga to romantic comedy to ghost stories. Well, maybe not that eclectic, since I generally don’t get science fiction and fantasy. When I go through a spell of not quite hitting on a book I like, I fall back into my comfort zone.

We’ve interviewed one of my favorite comfort authors, Adriana Trigiani. (Can't wait for next month's Brava Valentine, the sequel to Very Valentine.) When I read her books, I always know I’ll laugh and cry, learn insightful tidbits about her characters, work harder when I sit down at my computer.

Like Ms. Trigiani, Maeve Binchy does the same. I finally got around to reading Heart and Soul, published close to a year ago around last Valentine’s Day. Reading this book was like eating my mother’s matzo ball soup—it’s always even better than I remember. The story focuses around a Dublin doctor who is trying to get a heart clinic up and running while dealing with her own fragile heart. Binchy found a way to weave in many characters from previous books, a technique which drew me in and had me wanting to reread them all.

Recently I read the Love Actually screenplay. Before this, I’d never read a screenplay (I tried to read Juno, but got dizzy trying to keep up with the format). I’ve lost count at how many times I’ve watched the ensemble romantic comedy—not just for Christmas viewing!—but reading the familiar lines, I recited the lines in my head before I got to them on the page.

Get a grip. People hate sissies. No one’s ever going to shag you if you cry all the time.

I love that word relationship—covers all manner of sins, doesn’t it?

Yes—but you’ve also made a fool out of me—you’ve made the life I lead foolish too.

You learnt English… Just in cases.

And I scored 27 out of 36 on the quiz—full marks according to author Richard Curtis. The book is scattered with gorgeous pictures and a follow-up love questionnaire by the stars.

Some of my other comfort favorites: Tracy Chevalier, Marian Keyes, Jane Austen. I know I need to stretch my comfort zone, read books I might not have otherwise, but it’s good to know I can always come back home.

What are your comfort books or authors?