Moving People: A Novel Journey Through Books

Posted on February 16, 2015 by Leslie Green

By Ron Bernas

Artists are always seeking inspiration. To seek is to find, and they find it in the way the sun reflects off a lake at dawn, the sounds of nature or someone else’s turn of phrase. But immediate inspirations are one thing; and to make something meaningful out of them, the true artist builds them on a basis of a long-term philosophy.

As a storyteller, I find inspiration in things that make me look in a new way at something that’s familiar or mundane. If it makes me laugh, too, that’s even better. As a playwright, I am inspired by many writers: Horton Foote for the way he tells meaningful stories that are quiet and powerful, and Moss Hart for the heart around which he builds all his work and George S. Kaufman, for his way with a one-liner. Kaufman and Hart collaborated on, among others, “You Can’t Take it with You,” which won the Pulitzer Prize and has always been one of my favorites. It makes you laugh, it makes you think and it makes you want to be a better person. We should all aspire to reach that bar.

I talked to three artists about the books that have guided them on their creative journeys. Here’s what they had to say:

James Pujdowski

“Much like everyone who lives through their 20s, I felt I was going in the right path in education and was in the middle of earning an advertising design degree. I was a freelance graphic artist picking up jobs and I thought this was my only life. Then I took a required painting course at Wayne State University and an Instructor suggested ‘The Art Spirit,’ by Robert Henri.

This book mirrored every thought I had about art and life. I could not get enough of this guy and on each page it validated exactly what I felt was right with who I was and how I was going to let art be what my life would be about.
“I re-read the book several times until it became my mantra. When I reflect on the words in the book, I imagine I’m in one of Robert Henri’s lectures or, while I’m working on a painting, he is right over my shoulder guiding my hand. I’ve given copies of the book to choice students in hopes they pick up the torch and find the same aesthetic direction and peace it gave me.

“To paraphrase Mark Twain, ‘There are two dates in your life that are important. First, it’s your Birthday. Second, it’s when you realize why you are here!’”

James Pujdowski is a longstanding member of the Michigan art scene. His expressive landscapes and still lifes are drawn from direct observation from his travels around the country and benefit from his imagination and love of vibrant color. His work can be found in public and private collections across the country, and he is in much demand as an art show jurist. James is also a teacher at a private school in Grosse Pointe Woods and at art centers, colleges and universities.

Oneita Jackson

Photo by Cybelle Codish

“I’d been taking notes in the back of a book called ‘Foyle’s Philavery: A Treasury of Unusual Words’ and a woman asked, ‘What do you do?’ We were at a funeral repast talking about the homily, one of the most powerful sermons I’ve heard in any church, any service. ‘I do words,’ I told her. And there is no one way I do them—I read dictionaries, stylebooks, and English books.

“Writers are the custodians of memory.”
~ William Zinsser, “On Writing Well”

But as a satirist, I refer to five books constantly to ensure I’m doing my best, most honest work when making observations of humanity: ‘Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition,’ for mechanics; ‘Beating Around the Bush,’ by Art Buchwald, to make sure I’m on point satirically; ‘On Writing Well,’ by William Zinsser, for the vision that informs my body of work; ‘A Handbook to Literature,’ by C. Hugh Holman, for technical terms, and ‘The Best of Simple,’ Langston Hughes, for my common-man voice.

Oneita Jackson is a Detroit cab driver who studied English at Howard University. She was a Detroit Free Press copy editor for 11 years and wrote a column called “O Street,” which received a Free Press Columnist of the Year award in 2008. Her latest writing project is the “Nappy-Headed Negro Syndrome,” observations of a cab driver in awkward situations. Find her on Facebook at Oneita Cab Driver.

Chris Emmerson

“I love German author Herman Hesse. He has so many great books. ‘Narcissus and Goldmund’ is great, and ‘Steppenwolf’ is, too, but my favorite is ‘Siddhartha.’ It’s all about the spiritual growth of a man and I find that so inspiring and motivating. He really understands the multiple nature of good and bad in each of us. He explores the many different aspects of people and uses really cool imagery.

I read this at the same time I was getting into yoga, right about the time I read Gandhi’s book and the works of Rudolph Steiner. Still, ‘Siddhartha’ really gets right to the heart of the themes of personal enlightenment that interest me so much. Stories like this are important to me because I view life as a spiritual journey and I’m always intrigued by how people can have different beliefs and ideologies and achieve growth and enlightenment from different paths.

“Wisdom cannot be imparted. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else … Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.”
~ Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Chris Emmerson has been a fixture on Detroit’s rock scene for more than 10 years, playing at many of the city’s most popular venues. He started playing guitar at the age of four and started his first band in the fourth grade. Gigs with his father led him to a career as a professional musician. He released his first album, “It’s So Easy from Far Away,” in 2014, playing guitar, bass, drums, keyboard and percussion in addition to laying down all the vocal tracks. His second album, which tends toward the pop rock genre, is due out this year. In addition, he’s also a popular yoga instructor. His work can be found at chrisemmerson.com.

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Ron Bernas, who compiled this post, is a freelance writer, editor and former reporter. He is the author of the screwball comedy-inspired play “A Little Murder Never Hurt Anybody,” which has been performed around the world. He reads nonstop and is the author of Ron’s Bookshelf, a blog about books and reading at ronsbookshelf.wordpress.com.

©Ron Bernas and Wildemere Publishing LLC [2015]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is to Ron Bernas and Wildemere Publishing LLC with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Life happens: My Sense of an Ending

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Leslie Green

When I was about 13 years old, I was at least 10 pounds shy of 100 and still several clicks away from my dream height of 5-feet. Around this time my parents, brother, and I attended our family reunion at a park where there were games, goo gobs of food and cousins galore in a variety of colors and sizes. I was the same age as a few of my cousins and, admittedly, those were my favorites. When we came together, we did it in grand fashion with big hugs and kisses and declarations of love along with promises not to stay away from each other so long.

After a while, one such cousin suggested we get on the see-saw (or teeter-totter depending on your regional phraseology). Not thinking, I sat down; and then he sat down. Hard. I flipped up in the air and flew about 10 feet, landing eventually in a field away from the action. When I came to, he, along with everyone else, was standing over me.

What happened? Life, and I let it.

I began thinking about how often we let life happen to us and what that means after finishing “The Sense of an Ending,” for which author Julian Barnes won “The Man Booker Prize.” I am still deciding whether I enjoyed the book; the characters are mostly self-satisfied or seemingly uninspired with few likeable qualities. But days later I am still thinking about it. That must mean something.

SPOILER ALERT (Stop here if you don’t want to know more): “The Sense of an Ending” is the story of Tony Webster; we start while he is a schoolboy and follow him to revelations in middle age. The mother of an ex-girlfriend in Tony’s youth wills him five hundred dollars and the diary of a friend who committed suicide. As Tony makes various attempts to acquire the book, he begins reflecting on his past; but his past is not how he remembers it. Tony, we discover, or surmise, may not be the innocent party: His history, subconsciously it seems, is revisionist history.

“What did I know of life, I who had lived so carefully? Who had neither won nor lost, but just let life happen to him? Who had the usual ambitions and settled all too quickly for them not being realized? Who avoided being hurt and called it a capacity for survival? Who paid his bills, stayed on good terms with everyone as far as possible, for whom ecstasy and despair soon became just words once read in novels? (Barnes, “The Sense of an Ending”)

What does it mean to let life happen to you? Does it mean there is no winning or losing? No choices or challenges? How many of us really control or direct our lives? Some talk of creating a five-year plan. Do you know five people with a five-year plan? What about a two-year plan?

On screen, the morally challenged Francis Underwood, the star manipulator in Netflix’s “House of Cards,” goes after life with verbal machine guns firing off underhanded deeds. He makes his future in full Hitler fashion. For him, getting caught unaware is an inexcusable flaw and his wife, Claire, is there to make sure it does not happen, at least not more than once. So Frank plans and follows his personal plotline until he accomplishes his reprehensible goals.

That dedication is a good thing, right? Short answer: Depends on the goals.

Personally, I found jealous Othello to be boor, blowing smoke in the form of long soliloquies when really he was just a gullible fool. Yet, the eponymous drama, in my estimation, is brilliant and arouses questions, like did the famous Moor let life happen to him? Was he unwittingly duped into murdering his wife? Or did he consciously choose to believe Iago?

As a child, my dad signed me up for baseball, mom for piano. I ran track until I let my grades fall. I got married, divorced and made other foolish decisions. Eventually I got a B.A. in English and wrote my heart out. In need of employment after graduation, I took a job the college career office found me, working at a national retailer selling hundred-dollar sneakers to female gangbangers with butterfly tattoos. Eventually, I took a better paying job and then another, until I discovered I was a journalist. It was exciting, challenging and educational, an experience I will never regret but did not plan it.

Now, at least according to other people’s timetables, I am middle aged; I am also unmarried, childless, and have not published the great American novel. I go to church regularly and read my bible daily. Did life happen to me? Maybe. Or was the very act of letting things happen a choice? Have I, by not sticking to my original plan of being a great American author, ruined my chances of seeing my dreams come true? Possibly. Do I regret it? Sometimes.

I had emergency surgery back in the 90s. A week later, after the friendly fuzziness of morphine started vanishing from my system and I was nearing the ability to whine without pain, my mother looked up from her crocheting and said, “It’s just more material for your book.”

Life may have happened to me but I have more material for my book than some who have followed the linear way, with all its smooth contours and shiny doodads. Still, I have been taking more chances lately, making purposeful changes, and doing things because they feel right and not just because I have a great capacity for survival.

© Leslie Green and Wildemere Publishing LLC [2014]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is to Leslie Green and Wildemere Publishing LLC with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Book(store) Report

Posted on April 30, 2014 by Leslie Green

Spring commencement for students at my alma mater, Wayne State University, is May 1 in the stadium near my job. Seeing the various college colors posted all about got me thinking about my school days and summer vacations and (bing!) my recent indie bookstore visit.

I don’t know what you did during your summer vacations as a kid (please share with a comment), but between short family vacations, camp, pick-up kickball games, piano lessons, and every attempt at loafing around, I had homework. Not the kind assigned by schools hoping to keep their students’ minds engaged during the nearly three months of downtime. Worse: My homework was internally assigned; it came from my mother.

She was a schoolteacher, a reading specialist specifically. The assignments started when she discovered I did not know the state capitals. There was some scolding and finger wagging before she declared she would test me on the information that August. If I didn’t know it, she explained, she would ground me. A few years later, when I was 12 or 13, I got the summer assignment that changed my life; my mother handed me Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird and explained I would read it and write a book report by August, or I would be grounded. You see how this worked, right?

And worked it did. I have been an avid reader ever since.

I was reminded of this book report and my summer adventures with Scout, Jem, Boo, and Dill upon a recent visit to John K. King Used and Rare Books in Detroit. Have you been? If not, then, oh my, you are in for an adventure. I thought John King was a booklover’s dream prior to my recent visit, as I have been going there since my dad took me as a child. So it came as no surprise earlier this year when Business Insider declared it the No. 2 bookstore in the world. However, my latest visit—I swear I heard angels singing when we walked through this unfamiliar set of doors—made me wonder why it wasn’t No. 1.

Correct me if I am wrong (I’m sure some out there will remember), but when I was a child—or so I thought—John King’s rare book collection was in a small room in the back of the first floor of the four-story structure. Yet when I was wandering recently with little purpose other than to soak in that old book mildew and sweet stench of knowledge, I looked for that rare book room to no avail. So I inquired. The pleasant salespeople explained that seeing the rare book collection required an appointment. Sadly, I did not have one. I explained my love of books and my family history with them—as if they would care—neglecting to mention, however, that if there were a Book Buyers Anonymous my brother would need to be its first member.

Thankfully, they responded to my plea (I was this close to begging) and a friendly, albeit cautious, woman named Toni came by to lend a hand. She guided my significant other and me to the building next door; my excitement at seeing the small stash of collectibles grew with every step. After asking what types of books I was looking for, she opened the steel door and led us up several flights of stairs into, well, heaven. Seeing as books and those who reside on the pages in them never die, this could only be described as a book afterlife. The first room we saw was massive and filled with leather-bound titles of all types, shelved, and stacked and stored, and just plain well kept. I wound up purchasing a half-month’s rent worth of books, most as gifts. Toni became less cautious; while there, she introduced us to an inscribed and signed edition of Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. Right beside it: Lee’s Mockingbird.

My Thoughts?

In addition to classic literature, John King boasts every imaginable topic in the four floors of books in its regular retail space as well as the building behind it. It is truly a book lovers’ nirvana. Now, my brother may not be the only one in the family with a problem. Where is your book haven?

Wildemere Writer

Stories — true and imagined

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