Domestic Horror

Don't you hate it when people let months, even entire years go by without updating their blogs?

Me, too.

*ahem*

When I moved to New York City in 1996, I never intended to leave. About a year and a half ago, the fam and I moved to a small town in New Jersey. Most New Jersey small towns within a one-hour drive of New York City are considered suburbs, and ours is no exception. With housing prices in Brooklyn showing no sign of coming down any time soon, and with my husband working in Secaucus, moving seemed like a resigned evil.

So here we are.

That first summer in our new house -- like, a real house with a backyard and basement and a mailbox that doesn't require a key -- the kids were not in any kind of camp or daycare, I was working from home part time, and blogging seemed like one more chore to drag down my mood.

Then the kids started school and things got really hectic. There were issues. There was drama. There were problems. Getting us all through each day felt like a marathon. I kept waiting for that moment when everything would click into place and I'd finally feel like this was home, this was our life, and this was fine. Everyone kept telling me how happy I should be. So I kept waiting.

I also picked up a Shirley Jackson book.

Every once in a while I go on a book-buying freeze because I find that my to-read pile has grown out of control. Whether they were given to me, I won them, or bought them and forgot, when I find I have more than two dozen unread books in my house, I force myself to read those before I buy any more.

Years ago I had attended Book Expo America and since it was the last day of the convention people were giving away free books. I picked up "Come Along With Me," a collection of Jackson's short stories and lectures. And then I forgot about it.

Reading this book at the exact moment when living in small town suburbia felt more like the American Nightmare than the American Dream tapped into something deep down in my psyche that I couldn't put my finger on. Of course stories like "The Summer People" and "The Lottery" resonated with me, but what really piqued my interest were the details of Jackson's life and her personal essays. I followed "Come Along With Me" by reading "The Haunting of Hill House" and "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," and I felt like, "Where have these stories been my whole life?" It was like finding my literary True Love.

After "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," I bought and read "Life Among the Savages" and "Raising Demons," both collections of Jackson's personally essays on raising children in small-town America. And though those stories happened over five decades ago, they resonate with me today with their timeless themes of stubborn children, household chaos, and small town weirdness.

Now we've settled in to our "quaint" little piece of the suburbs just fine: the kids have friends and get invited to birthday parties; my husband and I have game nights with other couples; we've been to enough restaurants to have favorites; we all have library cards. Sometimes I don't hate it here, and I'm no longer scared to drive. The summer camps are much cheaper, the schools are amazing, and I know where to find NYC-worthy bagels. But it still feels weird to me and probably always will. I'm a city girl. I feel safe in cities, with their crowds and anonymity. Growing up in Miami and living my entire adult life in New York City, I've never felt out of place as a Jew; here, I'm definitely a minority. My kids went from a school in Brooklyn where at least a dozen other children had their same Hispanic last name, to being the only ones with that name here. And though our town is known for its enormous, fancy houses, we live in a smallish house on the less-desirable end of town and on my really good days I don't feel self-conscious about that.

I've written three new stories in the past three months, and one flash piece before that, all with the same theme: the horror within our own families. I call it "domestic horror," and I fully admit I am inspired by the Shirley Jackson. My flash piece, "I Forgot to Lock the Door," was written during that first summer here when I kept waiting for the "good for families!" part of our new town to show itself and felt, instead, like we had made a huge mistake in moving here.

So yes, it's been tough at times but it's getting easier. And yes, blogging seemed like the last thing I wanted to do for a while. At least now I feel less alone, both in my real life thanks to the friends I've made, and in my inner life, thanks to Shirley Jackson.

Influences, Part II

A few weeks ago I shared my most basic writing influences, those books that I credit for helping me learn that I wanted to be a writer -- and for helping me realize that this was, in fact, something I could do.

This week, I'd like to get a little more specific: my three favorite, most influential books of speculative fiction. Books that helped me tap into the strange and unnameable; that showed me other worlds and bizarre ways of thinking about the Universe at large.


1. The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams

I was 16 years old the first time I sassed that hoopy Ford Prefect, and I've been hooked ever since. Up to that point I was pretty limited in the spec fic I read; it was around this time I discovered the Dragonlance books, too.

"Hitchhiker's Guide" not only introduced me to the sub-genre of comedy sci-fi, but opened me up to what I would come to recognize as a distinctly British sense of humor when it comes to speculative fiction. It's sort of "stiff upper lip" meets dark comedy; "Keep Calm and Carry On" no matter how bizarre things get. If this were a graph, a line could be drawn directly connecting when I picked this book up in 1992 and my level of obsessive appreciation for Neil Gaiman and "Doctor Who."

The rest of the books in the "Hitchhiker's" series become, in my opinion, increasingly bland, never quite measuring up to the original book. That doesn't take away from this one's humor and creativity, though. It's the first, it's the best.

It's probably hard to find a spec fic writer who hasn't been influenced, in some way, by Douglas Adams. The quirkiness doesn't feel forced, and that is so hard to do. The humor is intelligent. The science is pretty well thought-out. The parody is spot-on. It's a tribute to what a good book this is that, decades after it was published, it remains a solid read for fans of spec fic, British humor, or just good writing.

I never forget my towel. 42.



2. Cosmicomics, by Italo Calvino

My husband brought this book to my attention, knowing it was exactly my kind of read: strange and beautiful. This collection of short stories takes something already enormous and amazing, the origins of the Universe, and turns it into a series of short, personal memoirs narrated by an entity called Qfwfq. In the story "All At One Point," Qfwfq shares with us how a woman in the singularity desired to make "such noodles for you boys!" and her love and imagination were so great she caused the Big Bang. He reminisces about his childhood playing with hydrogen atoms because they were, literally, the only things in the Universe.

But my favorite story in "Cosmicomics" is the one illustrated there on the cover, "The Distance of the Moon," a sad love story about a time when the moon was close enough to earth that people would row out to sea, climb ladders, and collect moon cheese. My husband and I have read this story out loud to each other; we've read it to our children. We've argued over who gets to have that illustration as a tattoo.

Cosmicomics was one of the first books I read that seamlessly combined fantasy with science fiction -- and fantasy with science fact. It's like fairy tales for the nerd set; fantasy for hardcore sci-fi fans. It's the very apex of everything good speculative fiction should be.


3. Blindness, by Jose Saramago

Another book brought to my attention thanks to my husband, I count this as the first dystopia I ever read. And I do count it as a dystopia, even though there's no cataclysmic, end-of-the-world event. In fact, it's a very simple premise: The whole story is a macabre and graphic "what if?" experiment, in which Jose Saramago takes something most of us take for granted - our sight - and has everyone in society lose theirs all at once. 

In that respect the spec fic element is slight, but important. There is never an explanation given for why everyone succumbs to the blindness, nor for why the character known in the book only as The Doctor's Wife seems to be the only person not stricken blind. That's all the book needs, though, this one terrible event that creeps up on the entire unnamed Everycity.

From there, the book delves into pretty traditional dystopia territory: The government, at first, locks up everyone stricken with the blindness in an empty hospital. The Doctor and his Wife are among the first patients there (she's lied about being blind in order to stay with her husband). For a while the story stays there, as more and more people come into the hospital and order and society are quickly stripped away in the name of basic survival. And with that, all the reasons why I enjoy dystopias come into play. The questions of morality and ethics, of where lines are drawn and who gets to draw them, what happens to those who cross the lines, and the ways in which we collectively and individually learn to cope with tragedy and move forward.

Blindness is a book that has stuck close to me in the years since I read it. I feel it's influence in my writing, I see its ghost in other dystopian literature I read and watch. Like my other favorite dystopian novel, "Soft Apocalypse," this one explores the concept of humanity being its own worst enemy. Like "The Stand," "The Walking Dead," or "Deep Impact," Saramago manages to show us what happens when the society we have come to depend on for survival is taken away from us, yet he's done it without zombies, meteors, war, aliens or a deadly plague. 

4. Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

I'm still waiting for the movie version of this book.

No, seriously, where is it? I've already cast it in my head. Let's get moving on this thing.

Like "Hitchhiker's Guide," above, "Good Omens" takes the subject of the impending end of the world (as we know it) and puts a quintessentially British humor (humour?) spin on it. Dry but biting wit and brilliant observations in the form of scathing parody. It's a lot like Kevin Smith's movie, "Dogma," which I've seen more times than I can count, but Englishier.

This book is so well-written, with such crystal clear characters, that even my non-spec fic-reading husband liked it. If a guy who brought this book to our honeymoon (no joke) can enjoy "Good Omens," then I'm pretty sure anyone can.

And whether she did it as a tribute or unintentionally, I couldn't help but think of the four motorcycle-riding Horsemen (Horsepeople) of the Apocalypse when I first watched this Janelle Monae video. (I absolutely adore her, btw. She's geeky and proud of it.)



What's your favorite spec fic? What did you read once and it stuck with you forever?

Influences, Part 1

A few years ago, the husband asked me which three books most influenced me as a writer. Of course, the obvious -- and the most correct -- answer is "Every single book I've ever read." Even the "bad" ones, even the ones I didn't understand or didn't like. All of them. From "The Tall Book of Mother Goose" as a toddler to "Exodus" as a middle schooler to "Call of the Wild" and "White Fang," which I had to read in middle school and hated. Even "The Sun Also Rises," which was the only book I ever read the Cliff's Notes for instead of the actual book, because I read the first chapter and thought, "This is crap. I'm not wasting my time on this shit."

As writers, it's hard not to be influenced by everything we read. Hell, probably "Goodnight Moon" has sunk its itty bitty claws into my subconscious from how many times I've read it to my children in the past five years.

To answer the question in a non-annoying way, though, here are the three books that truly influenced me as a writer.


1. "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" by Judy Blume.

This probably wasn't the first chapter book I read by myself -- I was already in third grade when my best friend Amy read this and then I read it because we were super competitive -- but it's the first one I remember reading. Told in the first person point-of-view by the book's hero, Peter Hatcher, Blume's writing perfectly captured what it felt like to be in that age group (which is now called "tween") and dealing with the pressures and pains of school, friends, and little brothers.

Blume did such a good job getting inside the heads of children, I immediately read all her other "Fudge" and Fudge-related books that were out at the time: "Superfudge" and "Otherwise Known As Sheila the Great." I then moved on to all her other books, including "It's Not the End of the World," "Dennie," "Blubber," and of course, the super-famous, "Are You There, God? It's Me Margaret," for which, by the time I read it in the mid-80s, my mother had to explain to me what sanitary napkin belts were.

Oh, Fudge, what did you do now?

Who among us hasn't been influenced by Judy Blume at some point? It's tough to find women, and especially American women authors above a certain age, who weren't.

After reading "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" I started narrating my life in my head, as if telling my story to readers. At ten years old I wrote my first "novel" -- a 10-page story about a girl whose dolls came to life to give her advice -- my mom typed it up for me, and helped me send it to Judy Blume's publishing house, Dell. They were nice enough to send a sweet, personal rejection. The rejection didn't bother me one bit, because I clearly had already found my life's profession: writing. I found it thanks to Judy Blume.


2. The "Dragonlance" books, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman.

Sure, there were other books that might qualify for the fantasy/sci-fi labels, which I read before I found the Dragonlance books. But when I was 16 years old, I stumbled across the world of Krynn through the Dragonlance trilogies, and that's what sticks out for me.

I didn't read them in any kind of order, except to stick with the 1-3 order of each trilogy. In fact, I started with "Time of the Twins," which chronologically takes place about halfway or so through the whole series.

This dude has hourglass pupils. Come on. COME ON!!!

Never before had I read books so fully immersed in an entirely made-up world. These books had dragons, elves, warrior women, wizards -- even a moody knight. For whatever reason, I hadn't yet heard of "Lord of the Rings" yet, and so these were all amazingly new and exiting for me. (I blame growing up in Florida for my lack of Tolkein exposure before age 16.) I used to hide them under my desk at school and read them instead of paying attention to my teachers, which might explain why I flunked Algebra II and had to go to summer school. I'd stay up late reading them in bed. I'd stay home on Saturday nights and read them locked in my room, radio blasting grunge music from the University of Miami's station.

I finally did pick up "LOTR" one day and read the trilogy, and I faithfully watch "Game of Thrones." For me, though, the love affair with epic fantasy, with second worlds and sword-and-scorcery, comes straight outta Krynn. Because of these books, I learned that I could start from scratch and build an entirely new world in which to base my stories.



3. "The Mists of Avalon" by Marion Zimmer Bradley.

It's something of a cliche by now for authors, especially those of us who dabble in writing Arthuriana, to claim this book as influential.

But it is.

And, like the works of William Shakespeare, it lives up to the hype.

When I was about 17 years old or so, a teacher I liked saw me reading "The Once and Future King" (thank you, Mom!) and said if I liked that book and if I considered myself a feminist, I should read "The Mists of Avalon."

Two years later I finally did. And that was it, my world was blown away.

Just...YES. So much.

Up to that point, I was familiar with the most basic Arthur legend: The one outlined in "TOaFK" and immortalized by the movies "The Sword in the Stone" and "Camelot." Beyond that I could not fathom another world of Arthuriana, much less one in which the women took center stage. Wait, Morgaine isn't a scheming and incestuous evil witch? (Well, she is incestuous, but in ignorance.) Lancelot is Arthur's cousin? The Lady of the Lake is a pagan not a spirit? And Guenevere, Arthur and Lancelot have a three-way??? WHAT????

Mind = blown.

As with the other two books on my list, once I read "The Mists of Avalon," I couldn't un-read it. I couldn't let it go. It sank down into the depths of my psyche and started influencing the stories I told myself, the way I saw myself, and the way I wanted to write. No other single book has stamped itself so completely and permanently inside of me the way "Mists" has done, even twenty years after I first (finally) picked it up and read the opening words, "Morgaine speaks..."


What about you? What books most influenced you as a writer, or even in your life in general? Not your favorite books -- I'm talking about the books that actually changed you as a person. What books have left a permanent mark on your spirit?