- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
THE SECRET TO SURVIVING THE AMERICAN JUNGLE
dear salon readers:
I promised I would check in whenever I could from the road, where I have been
out flogging my new novel. I have a new marketing approach -- I used to try
to con people in the most indirect possible way into buying my book. Now
I just tell them they really have to. For instance, in Los Angeles, I got
up to the podium of a large bookstore and held up "Crooked Little Heart."
"Please," I said, with a lot of obvious pain in my voice. "Please buy my
book. Please please please." Pause. "It will really hurt my family if you
don't." I licked my lips with quiet desperation. "I could lose Sam," I
said, "if ya don't."
It was very effective. I sold lots of books.
I got in half an hour ago from Santa Barbara, and leave for New York
the day after tomorrow. My first book, "Hard Laughter," got a terrible
review in the Santa Barbara paper 17 years ago and I am still holding a
grudge. I have been very upfront about not being one of those Christians
who is heavily into forgiveness. The book was about my father's brain
cancer; the loss of my dad, who I loved more than life itself. The
reviewer, who was mean as a snake, said that people might enjoy the book if
they felt like reading about a New Age Addams Family. "Here is your review
from Santa Barbara," my editor wrote across the top of the review, "where
people never die."
I am mentally ill beyond all imagining: On top of having been on
dozens of planes in the last few days, and being separated from Sam all
this time, I have also become a person of allergy. I've become one of
those middle-aged people who suddenly becomes allergic. And here I've
always secretly believed that allergic people were just being neurotic,
nasally bad sports; that if they had a richer inner life like me they would
not be so congested and drag-queeny every April. And now I have become
allergic, too. It's a NIGHTMARE.
But the good news is that I discovered the secret of life taped to a
computer at the NPR affiliate in San Diego. I have it written on my hand
so that when I am congested and hysterical -- picture the late great Divine
with a sinus infection -- and the tiniest bit self-obsessed, as I tend to get
when I am out on tour, I can at least remember what my operating
instructions are. The secret of life was written beneath a picture of a
gorilla and the headline: Mantra for the American Jungle. "Remain calm,"
it read. "And share your bananas."
And lastly. I do not know if they have e-mail in heaven yet. Things
go so slowly there. I understand that they just recently got air hockey.
But if they do, a whole lot of us would try to send the following message
to our beloved and beautiful friend Michael Dorris: Hello, you sweetheart.
We are missing you like mad. We are holding you and your children in our
hearts, now and always. Amen.
Join the discussion on Anne Lamott's column in Table Talk.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Registered for our daily newsletter? All newsletter registrants are
eligible to participate in a daily random computer drawing from June 4
through June 15, 1997 to win a signed copy of Anne Lamott's bestseller
"Crooked Little Heart."
Register for our newsletter today!
|
BOOKMARK: http://www.salonmagazine.com/columnists/lamott.html
