More than once while reading State by State, I’d turn to Brian and say, “Let’s move to _______.” Brian’s response was almost always, “Ok. [pause] You know how cold it gets there, right?” While it is unlikely that I will have the opportunity to live in every state, that is the response I had hoped this book would evoke in me. For the most part, it did not let me down.
Curious, I went back to investigate: it was this review that initially inspired me to read State by State. Have you ever re-read a review after reading the book? The inaccuracies and quotes out of context can be quite startling. It is also not the first time that I’ve been struck with the thought that it is the reviewer’s writing that often causes me to pick up a particular book rather than the author’s. I did not, as the reviewer presumed, skim through the book, picking and choosing states’ essays because of my history with them. I actually read cover to cover, visiting each state alphabetically. I strongly recommend this approach, because having lived in a state does not guarantee you’ll enjoy that state’s essay. Indeed there were three states (well, two plus D.C.) that I had to abandon because they were simply too leaden.
As I read, I tried to find a theme that separated a mediocre piece from an outstanding one. Should the author be a native of his or her state? Not necessarily. Lydia Millet, Mohammed Naseehu Ali and Cristina Henriquez had beautiful pieces about Arizona, Michigan, and Texas, respectively, despite being from elsewhere. The Delaware section was written by a Canadian – the nerve! – but it was still quite insightful. Must the writer love the state? Not at all. Rick Moody’s always outstanding writing was thoroughly enjoyable all while convincing me that Connecticut’s Merritt Parkway might actually be the road to hell, with layovers in Alcoholism, Divorce, and Depression. It helped – tremendously – for the topic to be personal rather than didactic (only Idaho’s Anthony Doerr managed to do both), but a couple of the clunkers were quite personal. It turns out that the only common thread I could identify was ephemeral: the essayist had to “capture” his or her state. He or she had to transport you, make you feel you could see, hear, smell the things being described. That is probably true of most good writing, though I was surprised by the names that failed to accomplish this.
Brian asked me what my favorite section was. Paul Greenberg’s Alaska stands out, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit I favored Florida. I was deeply offended to discover that the Florida chapter’s author was born and raised not in Florida, but in Danville, IL, until age 11 (at which point he did, in fact, move to the Keys). From there he proceeded to attend the University of Iowa (?) and receive an MFA (MFA!) in writing from UC-Irvine. This gentleman was going to tell the story of my Florida? I think not. But all was forgotten when he revealed that he won a writing contest sponsored by Jimmy Buffett, and as such won a tour of the local Keys with Buffett himself. His essay made me laugh, tear up, and nod knowingly, thoroughly recognizing my crazy state and all that I love about it. That, in the end, is what what I was really looking for.
One Response
June 16th, 2009 at 3:25 pm
That is a fabulous review!!(and as you point out, another example of the reviewer’s writing drawing in a new reader for the book)
Leave a Comment