This is it: the third and final day of my conversation with Liza Palmer! You can read the first part here and the second part here if continuity is important to you. I know I like things in order, but that's me.

My exciting Los Angeles Book Tour begins tomorrow, Tuesday, April 15 at Borders in Torrance on Tuesday, swings by the famous S Factor Studio next Saturday, April 19, and then joins in the fun at the LA Festival of Books later in the month. That's almost too much fun to bear, people!

Names My Sisters Call Me is out right this minute, on bookshelves and hopefully tables near the front of the bookstores near you.



(Cool art by J., by the way.)

Here we go:

Names My Sisters Call Me obviously deals with sisters and the idea of family. Your last book, Frenemies, was about Gus’ urban family – her group of friends that acted as a unit. Looking at Courtney, do you think it’s a different vibe because she has to really look at her history – and not the history of her friends, but her actual DNA? Do you think there’s a difference? Do you think it’s more of a mindfuck when you can’t just not call someone back or write someone off (not that you couldn’t do this with family) but, how do you deal with evolutions and separations when you have to come together every year for the holidays?

I mean, was it different to write scenes between Courtney and Raine – the immature narcissistic baby of the family who runs off with Matt Cheney, as opposed to writing Gus and Helen – the frenemy that broke cardinal rule number one by cheating with Nate – Gus’ first love. Does it hurt more when it’s your sister? Is it more significant when it’s family that scars you – rather than a friend? Or does it matter – a scar’s a scar.

Referring to last Friday first: Yes, Spuffy. Duh. Didn't you know that true fans name the couples they like with catchy combinations, the better to rant about them on internet message boards? You need to expand your horizons, Liza.

And do you know, I haven't watched television since.... February? I'm not even kidding. My TiVo is groaning from the strain. The Year of the Rat hit me like a freight train, and I've been scrambling ever since.

Jim Halpert might be Austenesque, but I don't think he's Scott Sheridan. His face is too nice. Scott Sheridan has a mean streak, and it probably shows. In my humble opinion.

I can't even process the idea that someone broke it off with Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who I've loved in every show I've ever seen him in. But then, Miss Parker is nutty. I blame her vile ex and his shocking defection into the arms of Claire Danes. (Who I love, despite myself, and always will, because I miss you, Angela Chase. I miss you, Jordan Catalano...)

Another Counting Crows quote that I've been reflecting on quite a lot recently is this:

"we couldn't all be cowboys
so some of us are clowns
and some of us are dancers on the midway
we roam from town to town
i hope that everybody can find a little flame
me, i say my prayers
then i just light myself on fire
and i walk out on the wire once again"

Good stuff. Thank you, Adam Duritz, for providing me with a soundtrack to whole years of my life.

Oh, wait, we're not here to talk about my various obsessions, are we?

On some level, I think a scar is a scar. Betrayal is betrayal. I'm not sure splitting hairs between this betrayal and that betrayal really make too much of a difference because, you know, you've been betrayed. But at the same time, I think that family stuff tends to be the hardest stuff, because we don't deal with it as the adults we are; we inevitably and horrifyingly revert to the child we used to be. I think that makes family pain harsher and more painful and so much more difficult to both contend with and get past.

Adam Duritz – dare I say – can share the rare air where Aimee Mann dwells, you know? That there isn’t a time or place that you can’t find a song that fits and not only that – upon re-listening – find something new. Death Cab for Cutie has that, too. Wasn’t there a time when I was listening to What Sarah Said over and over and you were listening to Brothers on a Hotel Bed – depressing both….but beautiful. I find that I put Death Cab (and the Shins) on every single mix I make – consistently.

And television – you were the one who got me into Life (with Damian Lewis) and…you tried with the Journeyman, but I just…it just didn’t take. Spuffy…yes, that would be the true marker of an expanded horizon.

First – one a music note – is there a band/song that you will consistently put on your mixes. (I know the answer to this, by the way.)

Now, let’s talk process – wait…let’s go back even farther (further?) So, there you were in the North of England doing your PhD on AIDS literature – an uplifting topic to be sure…and what? It pops into your head that maybe you should be writing women’s’ fiction books? I mean, I look back on that time in my life when I decided to write an actual book – and it now just seems ridiculous that I would think that I could do something like that. So, how did it start? Where did you get the idea for English as a Second Language? And connecting English as a Second Language, your debut novel, with Names my Sisters Call Me – do you see an evolution? And how do your heroines represent that evolution? I mean Alex is certainly a far cry from Courtney – Courtney would have no tolerance for Alex – having to deal with Raine and all. But, maybe they’re more similar than different…

And taking this question that one step further (farther?) where do you see yourself going – where do you see yourself professionally in five years? Because, obviously, we all think the well is going to run dry at some point (am I projecting?!?!?!)…

I'm sure there's an answer as to who I put on every mix, but I'm not sure. The Decemberists? Colin Meloy's quirky little voice just gets to me, and there are so many layers to each song. And, of course, everyone you've named. There's always a new way to listen to one of their songs. Recently I've also been listening to random songs from Buffy Season Six, too, which also stand up to multiple listens and interpretations. ("Goodbye to You" by Michelle Branch--the acoustic, Bronze version naturally-- and "Out of this World" by Bush. Very good songs.) Don't worry, Liza, all of this will be clear to you in time. I'm a patient Buffy-pusher.

So, yes. I was in the north of England writing my PhD on AIDS Literature. Which left a lot of free time to, you know, watch Buffy and read and mope, as you do. And my friend had just finished a novel that she was sending in to agents and I wondered why I, who had always been writing my whole life, had never actually finished something before. So that was my goal: to write a book and finish it, unlike the many half-written manuscripts littered about all around me. I had no sense at all that I was trying to write "a woman's fiction book." I had no sense that I would make writing books a career. I didn't think much about any of those things, I just wrote the whole, original draft (400+ pages) in about three weeks, and that was that. I'm assuming I got the idea because I, too, had gone off to grad school in England, and I'd carefully written a lot of emails to friends during my Masters year, so, looking back, I have a sense that I wanted to capture that kind of storytelling vibe: a kind of funny letter to a friend, from a foreign place. But the truth is that I don't really know where the idea came from. I just remember the joy of marinating in nothing but writing the draft for those weeks. And I should make it clear that there was very little method to all this madness. I knew absolutely nothing about the publishing business, so this was really all just for fun, and to see if I could finish a book.

As far as an evolution-- sure, I think there's one in the writing, at the very least. I think my craft has improved since I wrote the first draft of English as a Second Language in 2001. Let's hope so!

I'm interested that you think Courtney wouldn't have any tolerance for Alex. I kind of think they'd get along. But then, I think all my heroines would get along, except maybe poor, maligned Meredith McKay, who is far too self-effacing for this group. And not nearly funny enough to hold her own with them.

Where do I see myself in five years? I wish I knew! I'd love to still be writing books, in a variety of different genres. I think my lifetime love affair with romance novels will lead me to write them, one of these days. I have about three or four books in my head that I'd like to get down on paper, so I suppose I'll just try to do that. I wouldn't turn down fame, fortune, movie deals or Oprah, but really, I just want to keep writing and publishing. I have so many stories to tell, still. I'm not as worried about the well running dry in that sense, because it never has, and it's been 35 years. But can it still be a career? Well, that's the gamble of publishing, right?

Sometimes I think that in that one way we are alike – meaning, if we would have known what we were taking on with dreaming about writing books for a living, we wouldn’t have done it. But because we were completely in the dark, the dream didn’t seem so impossible…if that makes any sense.

Ahhh, the Decemberists. Definitely. Well played. And I’m shocked SHOCKED that you haven’t made a mix with those two songs on it – I mean, I really thought we were friends here.

Let’s talk reviews.

My favorite part of the movie Ratatouille was the speech at the end given by the Anton Ego character (voiced by Peter O’Toole):

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so…”

I often equate getting reviews with a game of Russian Roulette – you never know which chamber is going to hold the bullet. Is it going to be Kirkus – probably. Is it going to be a professional hit by a fellow writer (Jane Smiley at Jennifer Weiner/Curtis Sittenfeld at Melissa Bank) or is it going to be an illustrious Amazon review. Do you read reviews? And how do you feel about the whole business – and, oh…I would imagine pretty well after receiving these babies:

"[Courtney's] innocence, sincerity and sense of humor will keep readers entertained. An inviting take on universal themes." —Kirkus Review

"In this witty novel by the author of Frenemies, Philadelphia cellist Courtney Cassel decides the occasion of her engagement is the perfect time to heal family wounds. ... Crane’s brisk voice and knack for finding the humor in Courtney’s angst keep the mood upbeat all the way to the rosy resolution." —Publisher's Weekly

Just that one way? That’s how we’re alike? And here I thought we had many points of comparison…

And I can’t believe you’re rubbing it in—you know my computer no longer burns CDs. It’s so awful, and has, frankly, upset my entire social arena. I try never to speak of it.

Ratatouille was such a phenomenal movie. I wanted to marinate myself in it, that’s how much I loved it. Oh, and it also made me want to cook more. (Though not French cooking—the very idea of that much cream makes me want to faint.)

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I like critics, because I like reviews, generally speaking. I like that people are talking about and reacting to my book, and if I like it when it’s all positive, then I have to accept that there will also be negative reaction and discussion. Theoretically, I’m fine with that. Books are out there in public, part of public discourse. I want my books out there. And I think there’s a place for positive as well as negative criticism, and that society needs it, even—not so that we all conform to these opinions, but so that we think more deeply about our own.

But.

I think it’s all gone a bit off track, to put it mildly. There’s a nastiness to public discourse, to critical reviews, that I don’t think existed before. A certain gleeful snideness, online especially, which I personally track back to Television Without Pity. I remember how refreshing—how thrilling—it was at first. It felt as if you were reading about your sister (aka your favorite show), who everyone loved, but you and your fellow fans could poke some good-natured fun at the conventions and inconsistencies. Then, later, it all got a bit too mean. Rather than honestly critiquing the particular show, it felt as if the recappers were simply trying to score points in some overarching Wit Contest. And I think what happened at Television Without Pity (I don’t know why I’m calling them out, by the way, except they were such a huge part of my life for a while) happened everywhere, and continues to happen. I think it happens on the pages of the august New York Times Book Review. I think the anonymous person at Kirkus who called the heroine of my last book, Frenemies, “a witless jerk,” was not trying to add a measured negative critique to the public discourse so much as she or he was trying to amuse her/himself, score points in the same Wit Contest, or simply to be scathing. And quite honestly, I don’t see how that’s a helpful contribution to anything except that particular critic’s self-esteem. So I wonder if the Ratatouille quote applies to that sort of critic.

And yes, I totally read the reviews. Bad reviews used to upset me, but they don’t any more. Not much. I mean, I try to write the best books I can. I sometimes wonder if certain reviewers think that authors just sort of slap something together with a sigh and inform their editor that they know it's a piece of crap, but just throw it on out there anyway. I mean, who do we know who has ever put out a book they didn't think was the best they could do at the time?? So when I see a review, assuming it's not just crazy or mean, I try to figure out if the points the reviewer makes are good points, negative or positive, and I think about whether or not I agree with those points, and if I would change anything if I could. I think reviews can be an opportunity to think about my own writing process. I’m also terrified that some reviewer out there is going to catch some gigantic, gaping plot hole that I somehow missed!

No – I mean, yeah – we’re alike in more ways that just the Ignorance is Bliss method of publication, but I do think it’s why our little publication seminars are so unique – because our experiences are so vastly different.
My computer caught your computer’s virus of the broken cd burner – but I heard tell of this external USB burner thing? I’m totally looking into it, because I simply can’t do it anymore. Although, it has saved me from making some premature relationship-y type of cds – the mixes usually outlast the relationship…echem.

You are far more diplomatic about the review thing – I had to stop reading them because I was way too tempted to find the “reviewer” and tell them to go fuck themselves. And I have no will power, so I had to eliminate the temptation fully.

Okay, I’m going to re-phrase a question from before – not before in this interview, but before in my head before. I was thinking about books and how they are a product of a time and place. The idea that there could be some run-down of 2008 and Names my Sisters Call Me would be there, next to…I don’t know, the Madonna album, Tina Fey’s Baby Mamma and the Women’s Murder Club is fascinating to me. So, I guess I’m wondering – why this book, why right now? I mean, is it a more personal thing or does the outside world impact what you write about?

I won’t ask about the Colonial times and how you were tortured with the Revolutionary period as a child…this I will save for another question…although my love of the HBO mini-series John Adams might tempt my patience…

You need to tell me everything you find out about the external USB burner, because, seriously? I can’t take it either. I’ve been making mixes since the sixth grade, how am I supposed to function without the ability to hand them out??

I really don’t know why I choose to write about one thing or another. The “choosing” process isn’t quite so clear while it’s happening. It’s a woman in Larchmont one sunny afternoon, running across a street with a cello. The endless mysteries and changing tides of sibling relationships. Those things, wrapped into thoughts that become words, that slowly take shape into scenes. That’s where these things come from, and some of the things that well up and take form don’t make it to the page, or don’t stay there. I’m sure the outside world impacts what I write about, but I’m not sure I’m aware of it as such. My sense of how books come about is that certain dark, angsty things present themselves alongside a few key scenes, usually while I am contemplating suicide in the midst of a previous novel. Almost everything that comes to mind while I am revising or finishing something else is crap. No books ever come from it, yet I daydream feverishly. Usually, when the smoke clears, a kernel of something remains, and that’s what I take as I go forward. But there has to be a gathering period. Daydreams and conversations, and as a character emerges, more things attach to her. And books, for me, spring from character.

Speaking of character, and character-building experiences, I will share a bit more about your reference to the Revolutionary War period for those who were not reading that email:

When I was a kid, we were always being dragged out on field trips and forced to enact Revolutionary War encampment life at various sites of Historical Interest, which consisted of sitting about in the cold and rain pretending to be excited about flapjacks (with no sugar, syrup, or bacon, which, what's the point?) or strange “stews” involving little besides potatoes and water. Requests for coffee by the more intrepid kids were summarily denied. Any complaints about languishing in the drizzle with only a tri-corn cap made of felt and costume knickers to protect oneself from the elements were met with a steely glare and impassioned rants about soldiers who braved the unpleasant conditions to secure our freedoms, a rant which had very little effect on a wet, miserable collection of ten-year-olds who were there under duress in the first place. I, frankly, would have let Britain have their way and stayed warm and cozy at home with a decent meal.

Sharing this opinion did not endear me to my teachers, much less the gentlemen out in the rain, sporting the knickers and the felt caps by choice.

And I thought the La Brea Tar Pits were boring…

I’ve talked about the whole ‘3-D Pop-Up Book’ thing as my process, that you flip open some page in your mind and it just kind of builds and builds - I think you probably said it a TAD better.

In all of your books the primary relationships are those between women – friends, sisters, mothers and daughters. What is it about these relationships that are so compelling? I mean, you can dig and dig and dig and never fully plumb the depths of these bonds. Why is that? And why – given how remarkable and fascinating these relationships are – are the books that explore such relationships trivialized with monikers that bring up visions of tiny gum candies.

And does it matter? We talked a little bit before about chick lit and critics, so putting it all together does any of that matter or in the end is it just about you and your reader?

You know, the funny thing is that Jennifer Weiner has a new book out right now (Certain Girls, which I will be buying this weekend, she is so awesome) and there she is, this powerhouse-- this absolute superstar, this success story-- and she is asked these same questions. Her books are even now being ripped apart on Jezebel. So how worked up can I get about it, waaaaaaay down here in the midlist?

That sounds like I'm very well-adjusted and blasé about it, when in fact, I am not. But it's kind of interesting to watch, that's for sure.

I think that because most women define themselves through their interactions and their sense of community, they are therefore absolutely fascinated by explorations of those communities. I know that I certainly can't get enough of reading about various different, purely female relationships. I'm looking for that thrill of recognition, or that sudden insight. Because these relationships are primal. They're so deep, and complicated, and we can't live without them, and they define us, yet they can be so very hard to navigate. Sometimes they are so incredibly painful. So... how can anyone get to the bottom of them?

And I said it before, but it bears repeating: these books are sneered at and trivialized because they are about women. I don't recall any sneering or rolled eyes when I was handed the fifty-seventh "young man reflects on the tragedies of war" tome in high school. Why? Because stories about young men and their explorations of self and their worlds and their relationships with other men are considered inherently valuable. Men are interesting. Men are worthwhile subjects for fiction. Write about young men and their worlds and you will be feted and congratulated and called a "wunderkind," and no one will call what you write anything but literary. How is a Brett Easton Ellis book any different from, say, a Lauren Weisberger or a Candace Bushnell novel: glossy worlds, jaded protagonists, and all? The only difference is this: books by and about women are perceived, as women are still perceived, to be less than similar books by men. I've been reading about the chick lit controversy for years now, and despite all the hithering and yonning about what's good literature and what's not and elitist snobbery this and commercial crap that and blah blah blah, I think it all boils down to sexism in action, plain and simple. We do not yet live in a world of gender equality, and I think this endless argument proves that. Again and again.

The bottom line for me is the reader. If she cares about my characters, if she gets that rush of recognition or insight, if she laughs or cries or thinks about her world because of something I've written, then I've succeeded. That's what it's all about.


Hooray! That's it! Now all you need to do is come join us out and about at one of the awesome events this month-- starting tomorrow night at 7:00pm in Torrance, CA, should you finish your taxes before the midnight deadline.

Not in California? In California but nowhere near Torrance? No worries, here's a contest:

Tell me the name of the new chick Alex's ex Evan parades in front of her in English as a Second Language.

You could win a copy of the new book and a copy of the older book of mine of your choice, to be signed according to the name you called your sister! Reply with your answer in the comments!

I'll see you out at one of my fantastic events!



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Part I Part II