Written by Brendan O’Meara (email sign up form ==========>)
Shepherd, A Memoir, by Richard Gilbert, Michigan State University Press, 318 pages, $24.95
Part of what made reading Shepherd so enjoyable was knowing some of the story behind the story. Day 1 of a book’s conception is never—repeat, never—what the book will look like when it births. At that point you cut the cord and watch the book gasp for air. Give it a whack on the bum. Continue reading “Shepherd: Lambing, Farming, Fatherhood”
Perhaps a more accurate naming of Juliet Harrison’s Track Life: Images and Words is Words and Images as that was the process behind this beautifully rendered book of prose and art.
Harrison approached writers and, in essence, said, write what you want. At that point she paired an image. I lifted a scene from the end of On the Backside, an unpublished book I wrote a few years ago. Here’s an excerpt from that piece titled The Athlete. It’s the opening essay in the book.
“I can’t think of a better reason to stay at Phil’s barn, so I exit and head out to my car, my boots clunking down the path, leaving a trail of waning footprints. I wave to the security guard and pull out onto Race Track Road. I put my head down and adjust my seating. I look up. To my left, on the Bowie Oval, a scene somewhat faded in the afternoon sun. And what do I see? Running off the turn is a horse in full stride, dead even with my accelerating car. He’s white with a grayish mane and the rider has him in a hold, the reins taught in his hands. The white horse isn’t gaining on me I’m not pulling ahead of him. We’re breezing in company, matching strides, and I only notice I’m pulling away when I surpass thirty-five miles per hour. His is stride swift and elegant, clopping away at a relaxing clip. I smile. I can’t help it. What an animal. What an athlete.”
The images are beautiful and words match Harrison stride for stride. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
The book is published by Paper Trail Press, the first book by Melaina Balbo Phipps, its publisher.
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Written by Brendan O’Meara
I’m not prone to fun. I don’t like crowds. I have broad shoulders so I tend to bump into people. I’m not very social. I like to watch movies on my somewhat undersized TV and read books. My wife doesn’t like me^1^. If there’s wet blankets, I’m like the smallpox-infected blankets Jeffery Amherst gave to Native Americans.
But I have fun when I listen to Book Fight: Tough Love for Literature. It’s a podcast for writer’s, though serious readers would dig it too. It’s a podcast about books, but a podcast recorded as if it were cool to talk about books at your favorite bar. It’s profane^2^, curmudgeonly, and just good company.
Tom McCallister, co-host of Book Fight and author of Bury Me in My Jersey: A Memoir of My Father, Football, and Philly, is a friend of sorts, though we’ve never met. 
We “met” through email when I gave his memoir a 2-star review on Goodreads. He wrote to me about it and I gave him my reasons. He does a great thing in his memoir that has to be applauded: he writes an unflattering picture of himself, which is a lesson unto itself in memoir. I gave it 2 stars because I wanted more of his father in the story and I don’t like footnotes^3^. He’s a great writer, an unpretentious product of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, which says something in and of itself. All in all, if you’re writing memoir, you should read his. His book has 45 ratings on Goodreads, which is a ton (I have 12) and most are 5 stars. Overall it’s a 3.84 stars out of 45 reviews. That gives you an idea that it’s a great book.
Since that first email a few years ago, we’ve kept in touch about sports and writing. Then he started the Book Fight podcast with Mike Ingram, fiction editor at Barrelhouse. It’s a fun listen. I’m listening right now. Naturally, if you’re a geek for the mechanics of prose, subscribe to it on iTunes.
Footnotes
1. Not entirely true. She likes the occasional social interaction where I’d rather stay home and read.
2. Not overly so, tastefully profane, like talking sports at a bar. But not a Philly, New York, or Boston bar. Maybe like a Seattle bar, or an Asheville, NC bar.
3. I have since come around to footnotes. I found them so disruptive to the narrative that I usually can’t continue reading. It’s like reading with the TV on or something. They make for funny tributaries that don’t belong in the main river.
The offer still stands, for a time, that should you subscribe to this website, I’ll send you a personalized copy of Six Weeks in Saratoga. Subscribe, I’ll reach out to you. My thanks to you. If you factor in shipping, that’s a $30-value, if you’re into value plays.
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