the book in the world

An update on the book, which is making its way like a steady tortoise. The cover was featured in the Nov. 18th "New York Times Book Review," no less, in an ad for the fascinating website secularculture.com that runs a precis of the book. It also received a review in December in the "Jerusalem Report," a magazine distributed with the "Jerusalem Post." The critic writes about the "invaluable contribution" of my book, which "admirably combines scholarly research, critical analysis and personal memoir."

If he only knew how much those words mean! I struggled endlessly with a central problem: the book was both a biography of a once-famous person and a personal reflection on the meaning of his life to his descendants. When my agent in New York sent the manuscript to the big trade publishers, one after the other responded that it was too factual - not enough fun.

And when I subsequently sent it around to the university presses, I was given the impression that it was just too damn much fun, with too much personal stuff for a scholarly press. I did cut some - not all, by any means - of the personal material for Syracuse. That's the next book - all those juicy bits on the cutting room floor. But to receive praise - from Jerusalem, yet - for what had always been pointed out as the book's weakness ... brought a tear or two.

The reviewer wraps up by comparing the dismissive way Gordin was treated with "the cruelty visited on King Lear by his heartless daughter Goneril and Reagan. Fortunately," he concludes, "Jacob Gordin has a faithful and loving Cordelia in the person of Beth Kaplan."

How I wish I could show the old man THAT.

Good news on a rainy day

Gloomy January slumps along, but yesterday a letter made the day feel like June. I received an ecstatic email from former student Laure Croza, who went from writing memoir to writing for young people - one of her fine stories is on this website under "Teaching." She wrote to say that a story of hers has just been accepted for publication by Groundwood Books. Groundwood is one of the best children's publishers in the country, so she is starting at the very top.

And then she wrote, "Thank you Beth for nurturing me and sending me down this path. I'm not being sappy when I say I wouldn't be here without you."

From the very first essay that she wrote in class, Laure had clarity, heart, courage and skill. She also had absolutely no self-confidence, but she kept going nonetheless, and soon she'll be holding her first book. And in my dignified teacherly way, I say to Laure, "WOO HOO!"

I have been asked by U of T to teach a class called "Personal Narrative." The course used to be taught by the wonderful storyteller Helen Porter, who died tragically young last year. I am honoured to be asked to try to fill her shoes.

New Year's List

2007 was an exciting year, and I'm looking forward to 2008. At the age of 57 I feel a whole new phase of life beginning - my three children, Anna, Sam and book, are out in the world, teaching is going well, and I'm now contemplating the next projects. There's an article in the weekend paper about baby boomers making lists of what they want to do before they die. My list is simple: I want to publish more books, do more travelling, and spend more time in the country and/or by the sea.

I'd also, at some point in the future, like to fall in love again, join a choir, downsize to a smaller, possibly communal dwelling, and find more time for reading. Actually, I'd like to clone myself so that one of me does nothing but read - newspapers, websites, the "New Yorker" plus "Geist", "Maisonneuve," "Brick," "Walrus" and other great Canadian mags. And of course stacks and stacks of books. While that Beth sits happily reading, the other Beth is writing, teaching and living her life unimpeded by guilt about not finding time to read. Sigh.

"True to life," my Ryerson course, starts tonight and there's still room. "Autobiography II" at U of T starts in two weeks, and my new class there, "Tell the Family Story", will launch next term. As for writing, I have finally pulled out the boxes filled with diaries and letters from the Sixties, and am immersed in rediscovering myself at age 14 and 15. Delving so deeply into the past is the gift, and the grief, of a lifelong diarist. I read my daughter a few pages, and she said, "My God, Mum, you were intense at 14!" I want to say to that 14-year old girl, just relax, it'll get better.

Because it does and it did. It sure did.

Happy New Year.

freeing the elephants

I was just at yet another wonderful U of T celebration - my, those folks know how to celebrate. Tonight was awards night, plaques given to the best teachers in Continuing Studies. A fascinating woman who teaches Communications accepted her award with a story about how elephants are trained: they are tethered by a piece of string when they're very young, and by the time they're a year old, the string can be removed but the beast stays within the same range.

Trained elephant that I am, stomping the same old ground, I take inspiration from my students, who amaze me with their courage. Each class, someone takes a swan dive from a cliff - perhaps terrified, but soaring out and down to a safe landing. Well, relatively safe.

My trip to Vancouver was glorious. When the sun is shining, there is nowhere in the world as beautiful. I kept saying to myself, "Why did I move away, exactly?" Mountains, sky, sun, sea. Luckily there were two days of dark sleet to remind me of the other side. The Book Fair was a pleasant event, well-attended, and I loved visiting old friends from the days when I lived on East Broadway, in a tiny attic apartment with a million-dollar view.

Now teaching is over for the term; time to get on with my own swan dives. Time to march this body right out into new territory. I wish you all a joyful holiday season, more love than you can handle, and a sudden sensation of freedom in the region of your ankle.

All readers; all levels.

My website has finally been updated, and there's now a list of new reviews in the "Book" section. Mmmm - all those lovely words of praise - does the soul good. There's also a brand new review of my "labor of love" in "Choice", a magazine for libraries, which ends, "Recommended. All readers; all levels." Bliss.

I was at a thrilling event last week, a celebration of the U of T's Random House writing competition. One of the winners was Gillian Kerr, who came to my class at Ryerson ten years ago and continued for years in my home class. Gillian is an example of what a busy person can accomplish with grit and focus; she has a high level, extremely demanding executive job in a giant grocery chain, and yet has never stopped writing; one of her personal essays was chosen for the third "Dropped Threads" anthology and now she is studying fiction writing at U of T. I am always sorry to lose a superb non-fiction writer to fiction but with a $500 cheque to celebrate, obviously it's working for her. Next time one of my students whines about having no time to write, I will point to Gillian.

And tonight I'm at a celebration of a Ryerson writing competition. Competitions are valuable in the writing world; they give us a deadline and a goal. Next week the Vancouver Jewish Book Fair, where I have been allotted 30 to 35 minutes to tell the story of this book, which usually takes an hour. I'll think I'll just speak really fast.

It's finally a true November day, yellow maple leaves whirling by the window as I write. Nothing more Canadian than that. Happy November to you all.