Gushing Over Nancy Bilyeau's THE TAPESTRY

I've just emerged from a delicious lark through Tudor England -- again.

Nancy Bilyeau has once again woven (get it? tapestry? woven?) a tale that seamlessly unites feisty heroine Joanna with the biggest names in the court of King Henry VIII, including the bulbous, pus-legged monarch himself.  THE TAPESTRY is the third and final installment in this wonderful series, preceded by THE CROWN and THE CHALICE, and it brings a satisfactory close to the court intrigues, attempted murder, and romantic entanglements of Joanna, an ex-novice who wishes only to live a quiet life weaving her tapestries--and gets anything but.

I could FEEL the bigger-than-life presence of Henry VIII as Joanna supped with him.  (I could also SMELL him.)  Nancy's attention to detail and talent for bringing everything to life without an ounce of historical dryness brought my favorite time period to life like nothing else.  The religious tension, the battles for power at court, the horror of the executions (Do you know how many chops it took to remove Cromwell's head?  You will, after you read this!).  You won't want to put this book down until you reach the final page.  And then you still won't want to put it down.

Read the synopsis (and buy the book) HERE.  (Or at the book store of your choice.)

THE TAPESTRY is available March 24 from Touchstone.

And for those of you who may be new around here?  Nancy has participated in not one, but two of our Baker's Dozen Agent Auctions, offering critiques to the adult entries.  She's a long-time supporter of this blog, and I'm a long-time supporter of her books.  I wish her well as her third masterpiece bursts forth into the wild!

(I received an ARC of this novel from the publisher.  My opinions of this work of fiction are my own.)

Spuds (a.k.a. The Beauty of Voice)

I'm going to tell you to do something I've never told you to do before, and it's this:

I want you to read a picture book.  Out loud.  To yourself or to a loved one (or, if you're really lucky, to a child).  Specifically, I want you to read this:

There I was, doing my weekly grocery shopping.  If I hadn't zipped over to the back entrance to grab a coupon from a store flyer, I would have completely missed the "bargain bin" of books.  (I know, right?  Books in a grocery store.)  Of course I had to take a quick peek--especially considering the "80% off" sign.

Right on top sat this luscious-looking book by Karen Hesse.  The cover drew me in immediately (which is saying a lot, because I find many picture book illustrations cloying at best).  I cracked open the book, not expecting too much (again, it's hard to find a superbly written picture book).

And I was transfixed.  In fact, by the end, my eyes were tearing up.  Not because it's a sad book (it isn't, really), but because it was so beautiful that I was moved to tears.

Seriously.  So I bought it. 

That's not the only reason I want you to read it, though.  The beauty of SPUDS is in its voice.  The author's careful word choices and spare language perfectly capture the setting and draw you immediately into the narrator's world.

Here is the opening page:

The night me and Maybelle and Eddie harvested potatoes,
Ma was workin' night shift.
Our ma, she's mighty fine,

but lately it seems like she got nothin' left over,

not even for us kids.

Hold me back, you say.  That first sentence has a pronoun error!

Exactly.  The story is told by Jack, the middle of 3 siblings, and that's the way he talks.  We are completely inside his head on every page.  As such, we feel like we know him--really know him--and care about what happens as the story unfolds.

So Jack and his siblings sneak out at night, after their mother leaves to work the night shift, in order to "harvest" some potatoes from Mr. Kenney's field.  Which brings us to what is probably my favorite page in the entire book:

We three kids headed out Waddell Road in that rattle-bang fashion. 

Maybelle, she goosed us with the meals Ma'd make out'a them spuds.

"You'll see.  Ma's gonna boil 'em, and bake 'em.  She's gonna

slice 'em thin as fingernails and fry 'em up crusty brown with

lots of salt sparklin'."
Man, my mouth juiced up just thinkin' about it.

Luscious!  "Rattle-bang" perfectly describes the kids pulling a wagon along the side of the road.  And how about slices "thin as fingernails"?  Can't you just see them, all crackly good on your plate?  And the "salt sparklin'" says so much more than just "salt" or "salty" could ever say.  (Because salt does sparkle when the light catches it--have you noticed?)

Picture books are HARD to write (as anyone who has tried knows).  Language needs to be spare yet beautiful, conveying a simple tale in simple language in such a way that the story is compelling--and also that it's a pleasure to read out loud (since these books are primarily meant for reading to children, right?).

(Side note:  I read this book out loud to Mr. A, so that he could experience the beauty of the language.  I'm sad to say that it did not resonate with him the way I'd expected it to.  But then, he's not a writer.  Or a child.)

I'm sure you can see by now how this translates to our novel-writing.  We have a lot more words to play with, true.  But we should still take this careful, choose-each-word-like-it's-a-diamond approach, too, because it will make our writing sing.  And voice?  We already know that voice is where it's at.  I believe that it's voice, more than anything else, that ultimately draws us into a tale, whether we're aware of it or not.

You may or may not like Karen Hesse's story, but you must admit that it's got a powerful voice.  The voice might not speak to you--you might totally hate it--but as a writer, you can acknowledge that it's there.

That's what your novel needs.  VOICE.  It's not something that can be taught; it's something that can be CAUGHT.  By reading good stuff, and by continuing to write and write and write (until our voice develops).

I've written exactly one picture book (it's not amazing) and will probably revisit this category at some point.  So I'm always interested to see what's out there.  Here are two others I've recently discovered that are worth taking a look at:

THE TIPTOE GUIDE TO TRACKING FAIRIES by Ammi-Joan Paquette

AT THE BOARDWALK by Kelly Ramsdell Fineman

Now get thee to your local library or bookstore (or, um, grocery store) and grab SPUDS.  Read it quietly, read it out loud, read it so that the words seep into your soul.  Then, take what you've learned and apply it to your own work.

I am going to do the same!

When Language and Art Collide

You may or may not know that I also pen the odd rhyming children's book. Yes, I'm geeked about kidlit from wee to teen. So naturally I read at both ends of the spectrum.

And one thing I ADORE in a picture book is luscious artwork. I'm not all over the cutesy stuff--bright colors, simple shapes. I'm not even excited about Eric Carle's illustrations, though I'll admit his are some of the most delightful picture books out there. But give me a masterpiece on each page, and I'm a goner.

Unless the writing doesn't measure up.

I give you the following:




King Midas and the Golden Touch, as told by Charlotte Craft, illustrated by K.Y. Craft. Harper Collins, 1999.

One look at that gorgeous cover lets you know what to expect on every page: SUMPTUOUS paintings. EXQUISITE detail. This retelling of a classic fable is a feast for the eyes--the kind of artwork you want to stroke with your fingertips. Brilliant.

And then you start reading.

Mind you, it's not awful. And there's a certain "fairy tale" language inherent in this type of tale that has a cadence all its own, different from the modern tales to which our ears may be accustomed.

It's adequate for the genre. But it's not excellent. And compared to the gorgeous artwork, it's sadly lacking.

(I know, I know. I'm an absolute language snob. But I'm also a hardworking writer who is continually striving to strip her own work of the kind of writerly slip-ups I've found in King Midas.)

Example 1:

"That is your wish?"

"Yes, for then it would always be at my fingertips," Midas assured him.

"Think carefully, my friend," cautioned the visitor.

"Yes," replied Midas. "The golden touch would bring me all the happiness I need."

Assured? Cautioned? Replied? Read the passage out loud (the only way to truly determine the merit of a picture book, in my opinion). Does it feel as clunky to you as it does to me?

Example 2:

With a gift as great as this, he thought, no inconvenience could be too great.

Two "greats" in the same sentence? Really?

Example 3:

But Midas began to wring his hands. If he was hungry now, he imagined how much more hungry he would be by dinner.

MORE HUNGRY is completely incorrect. The correct comparative degree of "hungry" is "hungrier." Always.

Example 4:

As the water washed the gold from his clothes, he noticed a pretty little violet growing wild along the banks and gently brushed his finger against it. When he saw that the delicate purple flower continued to bend with the breeze, he was overjoyed.

The above passage is about as purple as they come (no pun intended). It's a wonderful moment for King Midas, realizing that the cursed touch has been washed away. But all those adjectives! Read it out loud a couple times. It's exhausting.

Now, I'm not picking on this book simply to be snarky. There is a lot that is beautiful about it (mostly the artwork). I really do have a non-snarky point to make: Regardless of genre or age level, writing should be clean and beautiful. And grammatically correct. If tiny ears grow up hearing gorgeous prose and NOT overwritten fable re-tellings, they will not settle for less when they are older.

And let's give the parents a break, too. Who wants to read an exhausting fairy tale twelve times a day? The text should slip golden from the tongue, melting in the mouth like fine chocolate. If it makes mama tired, the pleasure is gone.

Of course we, as writers, tend to be overly sensitive to the weaknesses of published works. And I don't think there is any such thing as a PERFECT book. (Well, unless Jane Austen wrote it. But she DOES use the oddest spellings!) We've got to extend grace as well as give ourselves some.

But when less-than-stellar writing is paired with illustrations that take my breath away, I am compelled to say something. And so I have. At any rate, I'm always open to your opinions. The book is available with "search inside" on Amazon. If you want to read a few pages and give me your thoughts, I'd love to hear them. If I'm totally off, I know you'll tell me.

After all, this could be nothing more than my perfectionist tendencies rearing their ugly head.

I do love a good fairy tale, at any rate. And I'm thankful that Harper Collins has published this (and others in the same collection) along with more contemporary offerings. Now if everyone would work together to make something GOOD into something WONDERFUL, what a world it would be!