In her May 2006 column, Dominique Browning, editor-in-chief of House and Garden wrote: "Every once in a while a book comes along that forces you to realize that you must change your life. Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma has done that for me."

I share Browning's enthusiasm! Now I am not interested in taking up my pen as a book critic (never shall be). Suffice it to say that Pollan’s Omnivore's Dilemma took on such an extraordinary power in the reading that completely astonished me. I will never look at the food industry the same way again.

And while we're on the subject of food, Barbara Kingsolver's lastest, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, is due out May 1st. The book promises to "open [our] eyes in a hundred new ways to an old truth: You are what you eat." Barbara Kingsolver's books always blow the top of my head clean off (to paraphrase Emily Dickinson). I can't wait to read it.

Recently I've been talking with writers about their mentors, and I think it's safe to say that Alex Espinoza's mentor is Susan Straight, and Gayle Brandeis's would have to be Barbara Kingsolver. I don't think either of them would object to my taking the liberty to say this.

"I considered Barbara my mentor before I ever met her," Gayle wrote in an e-mail to me. "Her novels were shining examples of how to weave together social conscience and craft, a love of language with a love of justice, not to mention a love of the world."

When I asked Alex about Susan Straight's influence on his writing life he said, "Susan was the first person who told me, 'You know, you're crazy if you do this, but if you want to do it, you better do it, and it's the only thing you're going to be able to do.' And she was absolutely right. There's this intensity to writing, but Susan made it seem possible. Susan made it seem worthwhile."

*
As I talked with both Alex and Gayle about their mentors, memories of my own beloved teacher, Larry Kramer, came flooding back. Larry was both a poetry and creative writing professor at California State University, San Bernardino, and the author of two poetry collections, Strong Winds Below the Canyons and Brilliant Windows; and I considered him my first mentor, my first miracle teacher.

Aside from being a great poet and lecturer (and he absolutely was... during his lectures, I couldn't scribble down his brilliant comments fast enough, and wish I'd thought to tape-record them the way I record my interviews today), mostly I remember how kindly he treated me. Especially during those years when I was terribly shy. The other professors looked past me, but not Larry. He didn’t say to himself, "Well, there’s the shy Dominique." He met me where I was, and he was fully present. That was what I needed at the time -- someone who wasn't judgmental. And come to think of it, isn't that what we all need, what we're all hoping for from our friends and partners?

Then again, Larry Kramer was a friend and mentor to many. I was recently talking with Sandra J. Lansing, another local writer and part-time professor of creative writing at Riverside Community College, about her recently published short story collection, Imprints. When Sandra told me she earned her Masters in Composition at CSUSB, I couldn't resist asking her if she'd studied with Larry.

"Yes, I did," she said. "He passed away a few years ago. Yes, he was my teacher."

"Mine too," I told her. "I loved him so much."

Sandra shared with me that she did an independent study with him in writing: "We used to joke about his office because he had piles and piles of papers, and there were flies everywhere."

"Oh yes, and he used a branding iron as a doorstop!" I added, laughing.

"We all loved him," she said.

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One of my favorite poems by Larry is "Iowa." I hope the folks at Princeton Quarterly Review won't mind if I paste it below:

IOWA
I was born on this prairie, in Newton,
so were my parents, theirs as well: mad,
that's what this country made all of us,
either way, God or poetry, sometimes
as in my mother's case, both.
I had a great, great uncle who looked
like Walt Whitman; if he had bothered to leave
a likeness, I could show you--a wanderer,
versifier and child-man, what he wrote he committed
only back into soil and air--no loss:
what desire have we for another's praise?--
we live in houses too far from each other,
in spring each afternoon our fields
grow even blacker, immense; we just want
to brace against our porches and watch
the land roll out from us, turn
up, back right over and cover us: we own the night skies.

*
I wrote to a poet whom I admire in which I shared my thoughts about Larry, and was delighted to receive a letter from her which read in part, "Immediately I faxed the wonderful Larry Kramer poem to a dear friend who grew up in Iowa--she loved it. I am so sad he left this earth so soon, too soon. I will look for his book."

I mailed her a copy straightaway. I wish I could mail one to you.



--Larry Kramer was born in Newton, Iowa, and grew up in Amarillo, Texas, and Columbia, Missouri. A graduate of Ohio State University and the University of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, he was Professor of English at California State University, San Bernardino. He died in 2000.

Buzz Bee Redone

As many of you may know, Buzz Bee is RPL's official mascot and the main cartoon character here in Riverside encouraging kids (and some adults) to read. But then I was thinking, what if we had a character that could put a little more "bite" into the message? I know, I know, we would have to keep the yellow and black color scheme because we have already invested in the balloons and what not. With those parameters in mind though, here's my official entry for a new mascot. I call him Buzz the Boston Bull, just so we can keep the "b's" in there. Anyways, that's what I was thinking, but no need for anyone to rush to a decision.

I just posted some excerpts of my interview with Brian James whose novel, Perfect World, moved me to my core (and as I told him in the interview... I wish the book had been available to me when I was a teenager), on our Readers and Writers page.

Where's Your Card Catalog?

Sitting at the reference desk, we still get that question sometimes. As someone who does cataloging, I can appreciate that we don't have to create several cards just for one book. Just type it in once, and people around the globe can find the information on their computer screen. But I digress. Nowadays people use the old card catalogs for all kinds of things, ensuring them a second life ranging from craft storage to planter. But for those who are nostalgic, the picture above is from the Claremont Colleges. And just to think, all that information nows fits on nothing bigger than a CD.