When and if I ever finish writing my version of The Great American Novel, I plan on calling My Friend Amy and Presenting Lenore in as my publicists. Why, you ask? Because Amy and Lenore have launched the coolest Book Drive in support of author Beth Kephart's brand new book, Nothing But Ghosts.
I can't say it any better than Amy did in this post over at her blog, so stop on over there and see what the Book Drive is all about. Basically, all you have to do is purchase Nothing But Ghosts from Amazon, and Amy provides a special link to do exactly that. I just finished doing so. (Amy is also planning a book party next Tuesday with Beth, complete with a reading and live chat. Details here.)
Why am I so passionate about this book, you ask? Well, for starters, it's a Beth Kephart book. Beth is that type of writer whose writing is so lyrical, so beautiful and so refreshing that you feel almost privileged to have the chance to read her words. It's a gift ... and oh, she is gifted. She's an absolute master of language, having done so in many forms - fable, memoir, young adult novels, and more. As Amy wrote in her post (it's still here if you haven't checked it out yet), Beth is an author that deserves a much, much wider readership. Beth's writing reflects how she is in person - gracious, engaging, enigmatic, humble. I had the chance to meet Beth last February, and she was all of those things and more.
So, promoting her book is a small way that we bloggers who are passionate about books can celebrate an author in our midst, one who gives so much of herself to this blogging community of ours and is an example and an inspiration to all of us.
...I finally found them down where a wedding was going on, or had already happened, my mother sitting on a bench, my dad beside her, both of them watching this bride and her groom at the edge of a pond where the water was so still I could have sworn it was a mirror. I saw my mom pull a flower straight out of a tree. I saw her stand, take the flower to the bride, and bow her head. I saw her go back to the bench and sit down with my dad and ask him, "Would you marry me again, Jimmy? Would you?"
"In a heartbeat," he said, "and you know it."
"I wouldn't take any of it back," Mom said, and maybe I don't know how you put regret inside a painting, maybe I can't figure out Miss Martine, maybe I can't really save my dad from sadness, but maybe so much time goes by that you start to understand how beauty and sadness can both live in one place.