Posts Tagged ‘Tim O’Brien’

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Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010

June 2, 2010
Washington, DC

TimOBrienBookFestWeb

Tim O’Brien at the 2009 National Book Festival. Photo by Tom Roster

In honor of Memorial Day, what better novel to turn to than Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. In this excerpt from the Big Read Audio Guide, O’Brien speaks about the power of a novel to translate deep and personal experiences:

The goal of The Things They Carried is to, in a large part, is to make readers feel something of what I felt all those years ago and after returning from the war, in that a thirty second clip on CNN can’t and doesn’t aspire to.  The way newspaper stories are not gonna make you feel what it is to be frustrated by never being able to find the enemy, and having man after man die and another man die, and another man die, and another man lose his legs and you can’t find anything to shoot back at, and you don’t believe in the war anyway.

Take a look at the NEA’s The Things They Carried Audio Guide for more insight into the novel from O’Brien, as well as Andrew Carroll, Max Paul Friedman, and Alice McDermott, among others.

If you want to hear more from Tim O’Brien, click here for an interview with O’Brien by Terry Gross.

The Things They Survived

Friday, April 30th, 2010

April 30, 2010
Washington, DC

tents at camp pendleton

This spring Oceanside Public Library is presenting “Big Read 2010: The Things They Carried,” one of 25 Big Reads taking place in the state of California. As part of the library’s project, the Rancho Santa Margarita Ranch House National Historic Site at Camp Pendleton is hosting  Images at War’s End, an exhibit documenting the camp’s emergency reception of nearly 18,000 Vietnamese immigrants at the end of the Vietnam War. The exhibit consists of photographs taken by Marine staff photographers and paintings by Colonel Charles Waterhouse.

Camp Pendleton soldier and child

Two days before the war ended—on April 30, 1975, when Saigon fell—Marine General Paul Graham received a call that Camp Pendleton was to be one of four military bases to receive a mass influx of Vietnamese immigrants. By the next morning the immigrants had begun to arrive and, in less than 24 hours, the base managed to construct temporary housing, in the form of tent cities, for 18,000 people. Most of the refugees brought only the clothes they were wearing.

camp pendleton blanket

“The response to the images has been overwhelming,” said Faye Jonason, Museum and History Officer at Camp Pendleton. “We’ve had calls from everywhere and people driving long distances to see the exhibit. It’s been really nice to see retired Marines who helped with the effort and many of the refugees themselves return to see the exhibit. There have been some tearful and cheery moments.”

All photos courtesy of U.S. Marine Corps, from Images at War’s End

READ BETWEEN THE LINES: A Q&A with ArtsWestchester

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

March 24, 2010
Washington, DC 

ArtsW Picture 2Web

Westchester County Legislator Vito Pinto and students at Westchester Community College post comments on the college’s “Wall of Reflection” as part of The Big Read 2010.

ArtsWestchester in White Plains, New York, is no stranger to The Big Read. After leading the Westchester community in reading Their Eyes Were Watching God and A Lesson Before Dying, it turned to one of the newest Big Read titles, The Things They Carried, for its 2010 Big Read. ArtsWestchester Deputy Director Joanne Mongelli took some time to tell me about the effects of Tim O’Brien’s tour de force on her community.

NEA: How did ArtsWestchester choose The Things They Carried?

JOANNE MONGELLI: ArtsWestchester surveyed community groups that participated in the 2009 program to develop a short list of recommendations. Then, we met with several representatives of Westchester Libraries System to discuss the recommendations, having agreed to select a book that might not have been read by a large segment of the population;would appeal to a broad audience, from reluctant readers to avid readers, e.g. a book that is relatively simple to read, but is layered; and provides rich opportunities for civic dialogue on significant social/community issues.

NEA: What has been your favorite Big Read moment?

MONGELLI: This year, there were two: having Dr. Marilyn Young provide insight into the roots of the U.S.’s involvement in the Vietnam War, dating back to choices the government made immediately after World War II; and hearing a high school student, inspired by The Things They Carried, read a poem she wrote, as part of a public program.

NEA: What were some of the unique activities that your organization planned for The Big Read?

MONGELLI: I’m not sure “unique” is the appropriate word, but probably a writing-from-experience workshop exclusively for veterans would be the most particular to the 2010 program and somewhat unusual.  Also, presenting American Place Theatre’s production of The Things They Carried was powerful.

NEA: What has been the biggest surprise from your experience with The Big Read?

MONGELLI: How many participating groups ask us if we are going to do it again the following year.

NEA: Why should other communities participate in The Big Read?

MONGELLI:  The Big Read provides a great opportunity to strengthen community partnerships. For arts groups, it showcases literary arts—a discipline that doesn’t get as much attention generally as performing arts and, also, tends to be experienced individually rather than enriched by a public/community component.

NEA: In what ways has your community benefitted from The Big Read?

MONGELLI:  I’d have to say the opportunity to think more deeply about a book and its themes through the public programs.

NEA: If you could meet any of our Big Read authors, who would it be and why?

MONGELLI:  Truly, Carson McCullers, a personal favorite. Of the living authors, I’d have to say Julia Alverez, because I did see an interview with her on YouTube and she seems amazing.

NEA: If you could meet any character from a Big Read book, who would it be and why?

MONGELLI: Mick Kelly of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.  Because my heart goes out to her.

Visit The Big Read website to find out who else is reading, discussing, and celebrating The Things They Carried near you.

A Look Back at “The Things They Carried”

Monday, March 22nd, 2010

March 22, 2010
Washington, DC

TimOBrienBookFestWeb

Tim O’Brien read to a capacity crowd in the NEA Poetry and Prose Pavilion at the 2009 National Book Festival in Washington, DC. Photo by Tom Roster

If you’re following any of the literati or readerati on Twitter, you’ve probably noticed that today is the 20th anniversary of the publication of  Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. In my opinion, O’Brien’s book is not just an enduring, powerful commentary on storytelling in the face of war, but also on storytelling in the face of life.  Last summer, I did a series of posts, which asked various Big Readers to answer the question—what things would you carry into battle? From the archives, here are some of those answers.

I hope you’ll share your own lists through comments or send a note to bigreadblog@arts.gov

From Susan Chandler, Arts Midwest

I’d carry a photo of my daughter, husband, and me; and a small stone from Smooth Stone Beach on Lake Michigan, both of which would remind me of what’s good in the world.

From Susan Gregory, Pioneer Library System (Norman, Oklahoma)

A 1928 Book of Common Prayer that my dad gave me when I was eight; a large hunting knife (in case the prayers are taking too long); Mace (does it work on snakes?); photos of my son and my brother’s family; pens and notebooks; a mirror, to signal for help and to check for jaundice; Immodium A-D; Tootsie Rolls; toothbrush; St. Francis medal that my son brought me from Assisi; did I mention Immodium A-D?

From Victoria Hutter,  NEA 

My stash of special cards and letters especially the one my dad wrote to me when he couldn’t travel to my college graduation. The voice mail messages left by my niece and nephew that I keep resaving. A pair of special order pointe shoes circa 1983. Copy of Upright Hilda and the manuscript for Dexter the Dragon both by Donald Hutter. The beanbag frog that used to sit on the back of my grandmother’s reading chair. The stenciled Sucrets box she painted for me that used to hold my hair pins, barrettes, and rubberbands. And lots and lots of photos.

From Adam Kampe, NEA

Swedish fish.  As many packs of mint Stride as my pack could handle. A copy of Actual Air by David Berman to slow my mind down, a nano pod filled to the brim with podcasts to tune out the chaos, a copy of Chris Rock’s Rock This to keep me laughing all the way to the bank, a picture of the lake I practically grew up on, a picture of my family and best friends.

From Pepper Smith, NEA

I would bring assorted prayers from 1927 Book of Common Prayer, the Bible, AA Big Book, plus three pages of quotations on how to cope with fear.
Photos of my wife inside the Dalvey Pocket Compass she gave me.
The best toothbrush I can find.
Patagonia lightweight hiking socks.
Tiny Olympus Digital Voice Recorder
Encouraging letters from friends.
SAS Survival Guide
Hunting knife
Claritin

From Amy Stolls, NEA

I’d carry a copy of the reader’s guide for everyone in my platoon, because it’s the best piece of writing currently in existence.

I’d carry tweezers and a tiny mirror that says “you’re pretty.”  I have a fear of being out in a jungle and not being able to pluck my eyebrows.

My lap top, new Iphone, and probably a Kindle.  (In fact, I’m pretty sure the Kindle was developed for just this purpose.  It fits nicely slipped in behind a round of ammo.)

Literally (the obvious) — a journal and pens, a few paperbacks, photos of loved ones, an audio of my seven-month-old giggling, an Ipod (with songs ranging from The Decemberists to Arvo Part to my dad’s banjo arrangements).

Literally (the not-so-obvious) — a plastic coin showing Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet holding hands, which I’ve had since I was 3 or 4 years old and have kept ever since as my own personal good luck charm.  I sent it to my mom the day she was diagnosed with leukemia two years ago.  She’s currently in remission and thriving. 

Metaphorically (the obvious) — my imagination and memory of every book, film, play, poem, painting, song, mountain, forest, café, meal, conversation, and personal encounter I’ve had that has made me feel human and lucky to be alive.

Metaphorically (the not-so-obvious) – my invisible friend.  She’s been hibernating for about 40 years, but I bet I could convince her to go away with me.

This all, of course, on Day One.  What heavy burdens I’d end up carrying all the days after I can only imagine (in part thanks to O’Brien)    

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Thursday, January 28th, 2010

January 28, 2010
Washington, DC

toysoldiers

#6 by Jorge Miente via Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorgemiente/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

 Three of the novels in The Big Read library are composed of interlinked stories: Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club, Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine, and Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Here’s O’Brien’s gem of an explanation (as you’ll see, pun intended) on the structure of his novel.

I wanted to have self-contained stories; I think all chapters of books ought to be, anyway.  You shouldn’t just arbitrarily end a chapter and say, “Well, continue it.”  There has to be some sense of resolution. . . And yet, I wanted each section or story to receive the light of other stories the way it would in a necklace.  Or one gemstone would receive the light of the ruby next to it.  And that would receive the light of the diamond and other rubies.  So that although they are meant to stand alone, and one would hope you could appreciate the story on its own, it seems to me that in the end, you aim ambitiously for what  writers worth their salt aim at. . .making a book of art of some sort.  And that’s the sense of pieces being in position so that they can reflect.  That was a big part of putting [The Things They Carried] together and deciding what to write.  So that pieces are capable of not just reflecting, but absorbing the light of other pieces.

Where are they reading The Things They Carried or another Big Read title near you? Check The Big Read calendar to find out.

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Thursday, October 1st, 2009

October 1, 2009
Washington, DC

TimOBrienBookFestWeb

Tim O’Brien read from his memoir-in-progress (on fatherhood) to a capacity crowd in the NEA Poetry and Prose Pavilion at the 2009 National Book Festival in Washington, DC. Photo by Tom Roster

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIM O’BRIEN! O’Brien’s The Things They Carried is certainly a book about the Vietnam War, but it is also a book about how to tell a story. In this interview excerpt, O’Brien shares his thoughts on fiction and the difference between what he calls “the story truth” and “the happening truth.”

Well, I can make an effort to distinguish between the two. There are times in life when an event occurs and you go to tell about it. And you’re utterly and absolutely factual in your effort to recount what occurred.  But when you’ve finished, it feels as if, somehow, a part of the truth is missing, even though the facts are there.  And there are other times in life when you begin exaggerating and revving up the facts, maybe adding a little bit here, subtracting a bit there; it is a way of trying to get at an emotional or spiritual or psychological truth. 

So, for example, there’s a chapter in The Things They Carried called “On the Rainy River.”  And it’s a story of a fellow who bears my name, Tim O’Brien, who gets drafted and heads for the Canadian border. He spends six days on the Rainy River, which separates Minnesota from Canada, trying to decide should [he] cross that river and go to Canada or should [he] go to the war.  Well that never happened.  I did not get in my car and drive to the Rainy River, although I was drafted.  I didn’t spend six days there.  In fact, I’ve never been there in my life.  The characters that are up on the Rainy River don’t exist. 

And yet, although the story is largely invented, it feels to me truer in a way than the literal truth that I could recount about that terrible summer I was drafted. The literal truth would be to say I played golf. I worried a lot [and] had trouble sleeping. And that pretty much would be it.  I could tell you about my pars and my bogeys, and it’d all be true.  And I could describe the golf course, and that would be true.  But it would have little to do with what was happening inside me the summer I was drafted.  That horrible squeeze that I felt on my psyche or my soul. 

And that’s probably as close as I can get to explaining the difference between the two.  It has to do in the end with why I write fiction. I make things up, yes. And invent a whole bunch of stuff. But it’s an effort to get at, you know, certain emotional or spiritual truths that I can’t get at by recitation of fact.       

 Here’s who’s reading, discussing, and celebrating The Things They Carried this month: Kaskaskia College Learning Resource Center Library (Centralia, IL); Lewis & Clark Library (Helena, MT); Scranton Public Library (Scranton, PA); Shrewsbury Public Library (Shrewsbury, MA); and West Plains Council on the Arts (West Plains, MO).

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Friday, September 4th, 2009

September 4, 2009
Washington, DC

writingisallowed

“Writing is allowed” by Andwat from Flickr

Having started the week with a round-up of quotes on reading, it seems fitting to end the week—and summer—with a quantum of quotes on writing.

“I think I write in order to discover on my shelf a new book that I would enjoy reading, or to see a new play that would engross me.” Thornton Wilder

“A novel is not written to explain a culture, it creates its own.” Rudolfo Anaya

“[I] decided that in writing [My Antonia] I would dwell very lightly on those things that a novelist would ordinarily emphasize, and make up my story of the little, every-day happenings and occurrences that form the greatest part of everyone’s life and happiness.” Willa Cather

“I know I cannot straighten out with a few pen-strokes what God and men took centuries to mess up. So I tried to deal with life as we actually live it—not as the sociologists imagine it.” Zora Neale Hurston

“Abstraction may make your head believe, but a good story, well told, will also make your kidneys believe, and your scalp and tear ducts, your heart, and your stomach, the whole human being.” Tim O’Brien

“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.” Mark Twain

“There’s no substitute for struggling, if a struggle is needed, to make an English sentence as beautiful as it should be.” Harper Lee

“The goal of the artist is not to solve a question irrefutably, but to force people to love life in all its innumerable, inexhaustible manifestations.” Leo Tolstoy

From The Big Read mailbox

Monday, August 17th, 2009

August 17, 2009
Washington, DC

 

 

tootsie-rolls1

Photo by Oskay from Flickr

A couple of weeks ago, I posed this question to folks around the office: What would you carry as you headed—literally or metaphorically—into battle? Here’s a response sent into the blog by Susan Gregory of Pioneer Library System in Norman, Oklahoma. (A Repeat Reader, Pioneer Library will host a Big Read of The Maltese Falcon next March.)

A 1928 Book of Common Prayer that my dad gave me when I was eight; a large hunting knife (in case the prayers are taking too long); Mace (does it work on snakes?); photos of my son and my brother’s family; pens and notebooks; a mirror, to signal for help and to check for jaundice; Immodium A-D; Tootsie Rolls; toothbrush; St. Francis medal that my son brought me from Assisi; did I mention Immodium A-D?

The Things We’d Carry, Part 4

Friday, August 7th, 2009

August 7, 2009
Washington, DC

inmybagaug709
A look at what’s in my bag today.

Here’s the final installment in our series of responses to the prompt: “Marching into battle—literally or metaphorically—what things might you carry? It’s your choice to tell or not to tell why you select what you do.”

I’ll lead off today’s answers . . .

From Paulette Beete:

I’d carry my Bible, as many ruled Moleskine notebooks and blue ink pens as I could, a photograph of my sister and me taken in my grandfather’s shop in Trinidad when we were about two and five respectively, poems by Mary Oliver and Yusef Komunyakaa, postcards of New York and Chicago, and an 80s mixed tape that my friend Michelle gave me when I graduated from high school

From David Kipen:

Marching into battle, I’d carry a copy of The Things They Carried. Somebody must’ve suggested that already, right? Then I’d bring copies for my whole platoon, and start a  Big Read right there in the foxhole.

What would you carry? Let me know at bigreadblog@arts.gov, and it might make it onto the blog.

Want to read more in the series?

The Things We’d Carry, Part 1

The Things We’d Carry, Part 2

The Things We’d Carry, Part 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Things We’d Carry, Part 3

Monday, July 27th, 2009

July 27, 2009
Washington, DC

What's in my bag

(Photo by spinnerin from Flickr Creative Commons)

Here’s more in our continuing series of responses to the prompt: “Marching into battle—literally or metaphorically—what things might you carry? It’s your choice to tell or not to tell why you select what you do.”

Today we’ll hear from  staff in  the NEA’s Office of Communications.

From Pepper Smith:

I would bring assorted prayers from 1927 Book of Common Prayer, the Bible, AA Big Book, plus three pages of quotations on how to cope with fear.
Photos of my wife inside the Dalvey Pocket Compass she gave me.
The best toothbrush I can find.
Patagonia lightweight hiking socks.
Tiny Olympus Digital Voice Recorder
Encouraging letters from friends.
SAS Survival Guide
Hunting knife
Claritin

From Victoria Hutter

My stash of special cards and letters especially the one my dad wrote to me when he couldn’t travel to my college graduation. The voice mail messages left by my niece and nephew that I keep resaving. A pair of special order pointe shoes circa 1983. Copy of Upright Hilda and the manuscript for Dexter the Dragon both by Donald Hutter. The beanbag frog that used to sit on the back of my grandmother’s reading chair. The stenciled Sucrets box she painted for me that used to hold my hair pins, barrettes, and rubberbands. And lots and lots of photos.

From Adam Kampe

Swedish fish.  As many packs of mint Stride as my pack could handle. A copy of Actual Air by David Berman to slow my mind down, a nano pod filled to the brim with podcasts to tune out the chaos, a copy of Chris Rock’s Rock This to keep me laughing all the way to the bank, a picture of the lake I practically grew up on, a picture of my family and best friends.