Lois Lowry's Blog

Last night I stayed up till 2:30 AM reading a new biography of Kurt Vonnegut. So I am somewhat groggy this morning. And I am not at all sure why I did such a mindless thing. The book would have been there in the morning, and during the days to come. But sometimes one just gets absorbed.

Maybe it was because I have a fond memory of Vonnegut, and it involved Martin; and this being Thanksgiving, when M's kids and grandkids were here, I was especially thinking of him. Then the book arrived and I picked it up and settled into Memoryland.

It was a long time ago, probably 20 years. Martin and I were in New York and we were invited to a very fancy dinner party. Black tie. If there was anything that Martin hated, (more than bigotry or Brussels sprouts) it was pretentiousness. And on this particular occasion, he said he would go to the party if I wanted to, but he would NOT wear a tuxedo. Okay, he probably said f....g tuxedo. So we went. I was all dressed up, since I sometimes actually enjoy prententiousness; and Martin was wearing a business suit.

Of course every other man there was in a tux, except Martin, and...ta DA...Kurt Vonnegut, who if I remember correctly was in a rumpled brown suit.

Okay: there is a law, right?  A cold lasts five days. No matter what medicine you take, or what crackpot remedies you believe in: a cold lasts five days.

So why is THIS cold now in Day #11?  It is not fair.

I feel pretty good, actually.  But when i attended a board meeting Tuesday, and was seated around a table with the other board members, suddenly the person next to me got up, changed seats, and said, "Sorry. But I'm leaving on a trip tomorrow and I don't want to catch what you have."

Well, I didn't want to catch it either. And I would certainly like to say farewell to it.

****

I returned home from too many different time zones, too many flights and people and germs, to be felled by a bad cold from

which I am now on the mend.

It is a gorgeous time of year. Cambridge escaped the snowstorm that hit western Massachusetts, and this morning I took this snapshot in my yard

...but soon enough the yard will be leafless and bleak.

It is very cold here this morning...and they say there is snow on the way...but I am headed to Los Angeles. And I have enjoyed my very brief time here in Sun Valley.  Last night I spoke at a church that has the best view I've ever seen from a church...this photo is taken through one of the huge windows; and the small speck of white up the river is actual Ernest Hemingway's home, now empty.

Yesterday afternoon I spoke at the local middle school to 700 astonishingly well-behaved kids. 700 kids in a gym! That's ordinarily a recipe for chaos. And this morning I had emails from several of them.

But now I am packing up and heading out.

Please notice that on the right side of my website home page there is a place that says EMAIL ME.  If you click on it, you can send me a private email, which I will reply to.  PLease don't send that type of message as a post to the blog. It won't be answered there.

Lately I seem to be on the road all the time. But the good part of it is that I seem to be going to wonderful places.  Today I am in Sun Valley, Idaho, at the very luxurious Sun Valley Lodge...I took this photo just down the hall..

..and the hall itself is lined with photos of famous skiers, skaters, etc.   Plus, for some reason, Gary Cooper playing tennis.

It took forever to get here from Boston. I flew first to Seattle (piiot to passengers: "Folks, Seattle is totally fogged in and it looks as if we might have to find an alternative landing site. But I'm going to first try to land in Seattle. Don't worry. We practice this kind of thing all the time.")

There is nothing one can do except grit one's teeth and hope for the best. And the best happened. The fog suddenly lifted; there was visible Seattle; and we landed.  From there I flew to Salt Lake City, where I had just 39 minutes between planes and had to get to a different terminal. But we landed on time, I ran, and made it for the last leg of my trip: the flight to Sun Valley.

....it is up for grabs.

Last night, in NYC (I am writing this on the train en route home) I had dinner with an old friend whom I haven't seen in a long time and with whom I wanted to catch up on many levels: personal, professional, etc.

We met at a restaurant. And had an excellent meal. But: conversation? We couldn't hear each other.

So: my idea? Concocted last night, in bed, in my hotel.

Someone must open a restaurant...eventually it will be a wildly successfully chain...and its name will be HUSH.  The food, of course, will be fabulous. A great wine list. There will be carpeting on the floor. There will be no music playing. People will speak only in low, soft voices. Shrieky laughter will be penalized. (I have to work out the details of the rulebook. $10 penalty per shriek added to your bill? Or would stern looks suffice?)

I have stopped off in New York, en route home from Paris, in order to do some book-related stuff.  First, an event at Barnes & Noble to celebrate the publication of THE CHRONICLES OF HARRIS BURDICK

with the illustrations by Chris Van Allsburg, who was at the event along with Jon Scieska, Linda Sue Park and me, the three of us among the 14 writers who contributed stories to go with Chris's illustrations. Chris and I will do another such event in Cambridge, MA (Brattle Theater, 6 PM) this coming Friday night, along with Roger Sutton as moderator and Margaret Raymo, the editor of the book.

That event was yesterday. Today I was at Scholastic Books doing a live webcast...I'm told that perhaps 4,000 teachers had signed up, and of course each teacher had a classroom of kids..so it was a huge audience.  We were talking about the Dear America series, and with me were Lisa Sandell, the editor of the series; and Kirby Larson, who wrote this one:

This is my very small and sweet Paris hotel, Hotel du Pas de Calais, on the Left Bank; and tonight is my fourth and last night here. I'll miss the window-shopping, since I am surrounded here by very high-end designer shops. Tomorrow I move to a different part of Paris, for three more nights.

This is my fifth visit to Paris, and each time I have stayed in a different district, gotten to know a different neighborhood.

Although Anastasia Krupnik is somewhat passé in the USA.....fondly remembered but no longer thriving.....she is certainly alive and well in France maybe because of these very charming book jackets!

and this is a Paris bookstore window devoted entirely to my books!  (The book at the top is the newly-published Bal Anniversaire ("The Birthday Ball")

I am in Paris, in a small hotel just off Avenue St. Germain des Pres, and have just spent a very long day at a symposium conducted entirely in French. I indulged in a  kind of magical thinking...convincing myself that if I sat there and listened for a long time, I would begin to understand French. Did not work. And then...when it was my turn, in the afternoon...for an hour and a half...I not only couldn't understand it, but couldn't speak it. Luckily the wonderful woman who translates my books was on the stage with me and together we kept the audience of 300+ French librarians from rising up en masse and leaving.

This was my busiest day of "work"...tomorrow I have a lunch, and Wednesday a lunch...but from now on there is plenty of time to roam. On Friday my granddaughter arrives by train from Germany to celebrate her 18th birthday with me over the weekend.

My little hotel is in a neighborhood filled with small clothing shops. Boutiques, I guess one would say. I mentioned that my granddaughter's birthday is coming. Did I mention that she has very green eyes? Immediately around the corner is a shop window with a gorgeous green dress in it...the same shade as her eyes.

The Dress....and...

This You Tube video shows a wonderful moment at Fenway Park when an entire stadium full of fans joined together in a show of solidarity with an autistic man.

It makes me recall a time some years ago when I was in a crowded movie theater in Harvard Square...the movie, I remember, was "Kill Bill"...and suddenly a man a few rows behind me began making bizarre barking noises quite loudly. At first the crowd was irritated and there were some pointed "Shhhh"s (I might have been one of them) but then within a very short time you could feel that the crowd realized the man had Tourette's Syndrome, couldn't control the noises he was making, and everyone became empathetic. It is hard to describe, because it was a darkened theater, with hundreds of strangers around me...but you could FEEL the shift in attitude.  You can feel the same thing in this very touching video.

The question often arises of whether empathy can be taught. I don't know the answer to that. But I think awareness of the human condition can be taught...and modeled...and books (plus parents, teachers, friends and fellow humans) do play a role in that.

Yesterday I went to see the French film called "The Hedgehog" (I've forgotten the French word for it)—fun to see the Parisian neighborhood since I am heading to Paris myself next weekend.

But more than that, it was a treat to watch the performance of the main character, an eleven-year-old girl named Paloma in the film. Some people, in reviews, called her annoying....and she would have been, to live with!...but for me, I watched her with a sense of recognition. Myself at that age. Solitary, secretive, introspective, creative.  There is a scene in which she opens up a project she has been working on: a complex drawing of bookcases...and for a moment I was plunged back into my own child self, tongue between my teeth, concentrating, pens and brushes and papers, doing the same kind of fastidious projects..

I just tried to answer an email from a ninth-grade student, and my reply was rejected (an official notice saying something like "You can't send email to this address") so a girl working on a research paper tried to get some info from me....which i tried to provide...but won't succeed.  Hers was a school address. I'm not sure how that works, whether schools block email from strangers, or what.  But it is probably a good idea to use your personal email address when contacting me (which you would do by clicking on the "email me" window to the right of my website page.)

Those of you—often students—who have questions about books or writing, please EMAIL me.  ON the right side of my website is the place you click on. It says EMAIL ME and there is a cartoon of me at my computer.

If you send those questions to my blog, they will be deleted. If you send them by email, they'll be answered.  Simple as that.

When my younger daughter was quite young—five perhaps, or six—she had an imaginary friend named October.  No one was allowed to scoff at that, or to make jokes; October was a very serous presence in our lives for a time. I think we sometimes even set a place at the table for her.

October was the month of my daughter's birthday so perhaps that gave the word special import in her imagination and in the naming of that unseen companion.

And no question: October is a very special month, more so in New England.

I'm in Maine at the moment. I drove up here yesterday and will be here for a few days tending to pre-winter chores. And in the month since I was last here, things have changed. It is quieter now. Tourists are gone. Colors are fading (soon to erupt in foliage, but not yet); the reeds in swampy areas along the lake have turned brown. No chirping birds in the early morning. My meadow has been mowed by Dave, who does it each fall, and so the tall grass and wildflowers are gone for another season.

But one thing has burst into its end-of-season magnificence. My son Ben begins morning glories every summer from seed, then plants the seedlings beside the porch at the farm;and all summer we watch the spindly plants move slowly upward, entwining themselves along the strings that Ben has placed, framing the hummingbird feeder eventually....but never quite bursting into luxurious growth and bloom until the very end of their season. Here they are now—in this picture the blossoms folded because of rain—at their height, when almost everything else is withdrawing and fading.

The lion indeed lies down with the lamb, and here they both are, on my TV room rug.

But Alfie (the lion) is off at the kennel...I will soon go to pick him up...because I was gone all day at a workshop sponsored jointly by PEN NE and the NE chapter of SCBWI.  Other authors and illustrators were Bill Thomson, Kathryn Lasky, and Jacqueline Davies.

OKay, the email function on the new website is now up and running and I have spent a number of hours replying to the accumulated emails, and all is well. Alfie has been at the doggie spa all day and is home with a shampoo smell and a nice haircut. A friend is due soon to have dinner and watch the Sox game tonight, an important one, so hand-holding is necessary.

I have just received the first copies of the illustrated gift edition of THE GIVER....here's a sample. The illustrations are by the incredible Bagram Ibatoulline and I could not be happier.  This book, with its gorgeous jacket, (and some additional material inside), would be a perfect Christmas gift.  It will be available in late October.

Most of you are aware that my old (and obsolete) website has been replaced with the new one, which is still a work in progress. Some glitch yet to be diagnosed means that email sent to me through the new website is not getting through.  It is out there in cyberspace but has yet to arrive on my computer screen. So there are many of you whose emails have gone unanswered.

This will be fixed by my oh-so-competent Website Guy---I hope very soon. In the meantime  my apologies to many of you who must be wondering why you have not received a reply.   Soon. Soon!

This You Tube video is a promotional trailer for the very-soon-to-be-available The Chronicles of Harris Burdick