Lois Lowry's Blog
The Tables Down at Morey's
I just returned yesterday from New Haven, where I had gone to be a guest at a "Master's Tea"...something I had not known about before the invitation. Ostensibly it was to be tea in the beautiful living room of a Master's House...the master being one who oversees one of the "houses" at Yale....and conversation with those students who are interested. Stidents invite guests of all sorts...the film producer Oliver Stone had been there, and during my stay, the author Dava Sobel was a guest at one of the other houses. It's a lovely tradition.
But amazingly, we had to move from the gracious living quarters into the dining hall...(see photo) ...because 500 students came! I got to sip tea anyway..because I grumpily insisted on my Earl Grey!...but it was not the cozy settng we had anticipated. Yet we did, I think, succeed in making it feel informal....there were lots of questions, and it was nice to feel the nostalgia of the students for the books they had loved when they were younger.
Thank you, Yale! I suppose I will still root for Harvard in the Harvard-Yale game...but I will have a fondness for Yale in the future as well.
I wnat to alert people to a new website—http://adlit.org—devoted to adolescent literature, and to - within the site - lengthy intereviews with (so far) several authors, including me—http://adlit.org/authors/Lowry . There will be more added. It's quite well done and very user-friendly.
I am headed next Friday to London for a week: vacation, over Thanksgiving, and lots of theater. But one aspect of my visit there has had to be canceled. I was to meet with the British screenwriter who will write the screenplay for THE GIVER, which is to be directed by British director David Yates (currently at work on the next Harry Potter movie). But unfortunately the current writers' strike in progress has made that meeting impossible and it has to be postponed till....whenever. Everyone hopes the strike will not drag out too long.
It was COLD here last night and the coleus in pots outside my front door is now destroyed. It had lasted a good long time and was quite beautiful—and I knew the end was in sight— so I am not complaining; still, it is always a little foreboding to feel that winter will be here soon.