I was not the only person piggybacking on the invitation. One of our senior librarians received it, and she graciously invited me and a couple of other coworkers to join her. We were all excited--imagine a teenager getting to go backstage at a concert, and you're in the ballpark. Meeting a real-life author is an occasional but not common occurence, so this was definite cause for celebration. Which is why my first stop was to the drink table for a glass of wine. As is often necessary at these events, I was handed a name tag to fill out and stick on my already pilly dress. I pondered what I should write. Tracy, librarian extraordinaire? Tracy, high on fresh ink? Tracy, Adult Materials Selector at the busiest public library system in the state? Tracy, cat mom? I finally settled on just Tracy. I handed the pen back to a cheery looking woman directing people to the elevator. She awkwardly took it, shifting on the crutches on which she balanced. "You tried to take the stairs instead of the elevator, didn't you?" I observed.
Arriving at the third floor, we were greeted by another Algonquin employee, very sweetly making sure we were all adequately wined and dined and offering to take us a on a tour of the offices. The Algonquin suite of offices is lovely and overlooks a wooded, residential area through large, bright windows that seem to be everywhere. The creative side of the house, where the artists do their brilliant thing, is full of beautiful book covers and other amazing artwork. Having no artistic abilities myself, I'm astounded by the beauty that these people can produce, not to mention their gift for making me want to read the books that inspired it all. We then moved over to the offices that house the editors and marketing staff. One room's walls were filled with books, a copy of every book Algonquin has ever published, in chronological order. In the center of this room is a short, round table at which interns and assistants sit and quietly make their way through stacks of manuscripts. Somehow I had always imagined this work taking place on a couch, in front of a fireplace, but this works, too. I found myself wondering how I could be a part of this world only to remember that I can't get through the pile of books already on my dresser without anyone adding more to them. After the tour, we made our way back to the central party area and prepared to mingle. I ran into a few people I know from other libraries and immediately wished I had lost 10 pounds that afternoon. Or at least put on more makeup. Before I could give this too much thought, it happened. Our tour guide pushed us forward, and suddenly, I was standing in front of Jill McCorkle, library star. Oh, and author.
And now she's smiling at me. Waiting for me and my colleagues to say something. Anything. While I tried to figure out what that would be, we were rescued by one of my colleagues, who expertly stepped forward and introduced herself, recounting a story in which she had met Jill at a reading years earlier. The conversation began to flow. Jill told us about some of her work while she was up in Boston. We asked her what she was reading, and like anyone involved with the academic world, she laughed and responded that she has to fight for time to read things not involved in her teaching work. But she has several titles she's hoping to get to, like an upcoming Daniel Wallace, and I could tell that she loves being on the reader's side of the book as much as the writing side. Jill's family is clearly important to her, and you could truly feel how much she loves her mother. The exchange even touched on eBooks, and we all agreed that there's nothing like holding a print book in your hand to really appreciate a writer's work. Jill has such a lovely, unique voice, that I had to ask if there would be an audio version of the new book and there was a possibility she might narrate it herself. The American south is as much a character in Jill's writing as any human, probably because it seems to very much be a part of who Jill herself is, and we shared an appreciation for North Carolina's wide-range of offerings, from mountains to beaches, large cities to country towns. Jill has a wonderful smile and a charming personality, and I would have loved to keep her attention all night listening to her stories. But another group of book-lovers was waiting its turn, and a table of fabulous looking appetizers was calling to me, so we said our good-nights.
I was about to follow a caterer with a fresh tray of goodies when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Surprised, I turned around to find one of my closest friends, also a collection development librarian. Each of us accused the other of having kept the evening's plans a secret, but both of us were feeling quite special to have been invited. We talked shop with some of my colleagues, and when no one was looking, I grabbed an extra copy of a galley of Life after Life. I was certain I would want to share it with a yet-unnamed someone and wasn't about to hand over the copy I was going to be reading.
Still not having made it to the hors d'ourves table, I turned my attention to the Algonquin staff members who quieted the group to allow Jill to read. As delightful has she'd been earlier, Jill talked for a few minutes about her fondness for Algonquin and all their staff had done for her. She described a bit of her process for writing this book, which began seventeen years earlier and included scraps of paper with notes that came to her in the most unexpected of places. The day she was driving her 14-year old son somewhere in heavy traffic and heard him ask her how many of the people in the cars around them were probably murderers, she paused, thought, and pulled out a piece of paper to start writing. Too many, she eventually responded. As it had earlier, her love for her mother clearly shined and even comes through in her new book. One of the characters possesses a trait of her mother's in which she cuts up pictures to rearrange people's lives to be what SHE thinks they should be. This person really should be in that person's life, so let's just cut them out of this picture and paste it on this one. As Jill noted, she was the original Photoshopper. Jill then went on to read from the new novel, and I knew I was right to think she absolutely must narrate the audio for this novel. The words truly poured out with a lilt only a true southerner could give them and with the added quality that only the author can give it.
Finally. The hors d'ourves table. Juicy looking barbecue sandwiches, crispy cream-cheese pastries, elegant cheese and crackers (and I've never met a cheese I didn't like), and decadent looking finger deserts. I indulged for a few minutes. I was a little awestruck but the fabulousness with which I was surrounded. I was on a first-name basis with a nationally known author, if only for a few minutes. I was in the offices of the people who have brought us not only Jill but Hilary Jordan, Lee Smith, Michael Parker, Sara Gruen, and Robert Morgan, among so many others. I was surrounded by people who loved books. Since I work with librarians, that last one is not exactly unique, but talking with writers and editors is an entirely different experiences than talking with librarians. I was thrilled to find myself among such literary genius.
But all good things come to an end, and it was time to start making our way to the door. We said some thank-yous and got in the elevator. The good news is that I now get to start reading my galley of Life After Life, and I feel certain I'll have lots to say about it to co-workers and library members.
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