Festival of Faith and Writing, 2008: Paul Mariani and Beena Kamlani

Paul Mariani and Beena Kamlani discussed the author-editor relationship. The interaction between the two was fun to watch--showing a clear mutual respect, laced with humor, that has developed through times of counterpoint and tension.

Mariani, currently at Boston College, is the author of 16 books, and has a biography of Hopkins coming out soon. (He also published a book on Hopkins in 1970.) He's written six books of poetry and five biographies.

Kamlani, who works at Viking Penguin and teaches at New York University, has been in the editing business for twenty years and is an author in her own right.

Kamlani (with a beautiful British accent) began by placing the task of the editor in context within a publishing company.

The acquisitions department of a publishing company is interested in introducing new talent, if an author is new on the scene. Can a book be translated? Only if the company gets word rights. If not, it's worth less money. Agents are increasingly keeping word rights. Is there a circle of peers for blurbs?

The publicity department is interested in marketing and reviews.

The editor asks, “What is the author trying to say?" "How well is he or she saying it?" "Can I help the author take it further?”

On the first read, the editor looks for how the book fits together, and reads for pleasure. “Is the author prepared to do the work needed to improve the book?” The editor reads deeply, until she knows the book as well as the author.

The second read is for editing, a very careful process. You (the editor) cannot take back what you've said. Your credibility is at stake. Be sure what you say is what you mean to say. You can't be cavalier or slapdash.

The editor's purpose is not to make the book sell better. Leave that to the sales department. It is not to make it like other books in the subject area.

Don't try to write like someone else. If an agent or editor doesn't respect your work, think again. Don't edit to feed your own ego.

The editor is the ideal reader, the book's best friend. She desires to protect the book, and aims to change only what doesn't work.

Work from a place of promise, not failure. Craft, skill, ingenuity, tact, inspiration, intuition, and love of language are important. Word doggedness.

Tap into ingenuity in creating structure. Kamlani lays the manuscript on the floor and shifts pages around, to escape from the fortress that is confining the work.

Use diplomacy and tact. The way you present feedback affects how it is taken. Sometimes you have to shake someone up.

Nothing is a mistake, but there are better ways of doing something. The process is not about the author's ego.
* * * * *
Mariani began with a brief bio. He attended Manhattan College in the Bronx, where he first encountered Hopkins. He grew up in the working class, has three sons, and spent thirty years teaching at the University of Massachusetts.

In February, 1970, he published a commentary on Hopkin's sonnets. He read Hopkins as he rocked his son Paul's cradle; Paul has grown up to become a Jesuit priest. (laughter) Critics often missed the sacramental heart, the search in Hopkin's work.

Hopkins was raised Anglican, was touched by Newman's movement, the Oxford Movement, and went to Catholicism.

Mariani (with a touch of humor) says he went through purgatory writing a biography of William Carlos Williams, and hell writing bios of Robert Lowell, John Berryman, and Hart Crane (which included two suicides). All these men were searchers. Hopkins is his Paradiso.

He did a retreat at Weston in March, 2000. Father Cartwright asked him, “Would you be willing to turn your life completely over to Christ?” This terrified Mariani. After some reflection, he decided, “Why the hell not? I've screwed it up.”

Once he surrendered, he heard a voice telling him, “Go to B.C.!” He interpreted this as meaning Boston, and consulted with Father Cartwright. The Father advised him to continue the retreat and see if it kept coming up.

Three weeks later, Mariani wrote a letter to the President of Boston College, a priest. Nothing happened for three more weeks. Then a response: “I'm intrigued. Come and see me.” In his meeting with the President, he was offered a Chair.

He went on a 30 day retreat, where he read a book by Hopkins he had been given, and understood the poet for the first time. Terror. Consolation. The insights were not just Catholic, but out of common experience, unity. Out of that experience came Thirty Days, a memoir. He went to Boston College the following fall.

Mariani met Kamlani in person for the first time today. He'd expected [a gorgon?]. (laughter)

He had heard Kathleen Norris speak earlier in the day. A writer can have acedia--try to bully, sweet talk, get money and run.

He has been a caretaker for his father-in-law, mother-in-law, and father. It takes a toll, a human toll. Caregiving deepens, empties, adds richness. He sees diamond coming in Kathleen Norris; he hadn't seen her for six years. She's radiating the face of God. You become deeper, even if you don't see it in yourself.

One chapter (on Egyptology) in the Hopkins book took three months of research. Kamlani condensed it to one paragraph. She saw it as tangent to the main tree. A writer's investment doesn't mean a reader's investment. Mariani's initial reaction was anger. He slept on it, then agreed with her. She got worse. As she got back good work, she saw she could push him further. They had an intense relationship.

The initial cover proposed by Penguin showed Hopkins at age 15, with bright colors. Kamlani and Mariani disagreed with the design. There is a dark night of the soul in Hopkins. At Oxford, he took a double first in Classics, then was sent to the slum of Edinborough. He was eccentric, an artist. The color of the cover was changed to that of the black soutane of the Jesuits, with some light breaking in. There is a sense of deep sadness in much of the poetry. Kamlani pointed out the scarf she was wearing. She had worn it to the meeting on the cover, to suggest appropriate colors: blue and green, gold and black.

Ron Hansen, a novelist and friend of Mariani, is also publishing a Hopkins biography. The two did an eight day retreat in Wales together.

Kamlani's goal is for the author to be happy, to finally be able to say, “This is the book I wanted to write.” Hopkins was important to her; she nearly did her thesis on him.

Mariani had faith she wanted the book to be the best it could be. He deeply trusted her.

The editor pushed. She was the audience. It was exhausting. The editor questions herself, how hard to push.

Beena is Episcopalian. Mariani wanted an editor of a different faith tradition, so he would know here he was not being clear to those outside Catholicism.

A page turner, the mystery of a life.
* * * * *
(By now, we were in Q&A, but may have started sooner.)
An editor uses intuition in sensing how hard she can push an author. If a person is closed off, one makes a few comments and goes on.

Mariani and Kamlani worked together over three years. Kamlani edits about ten books a year, working on from one to three at any given time, fiction and nonfiction.

In response to a question about dealing with her internal editor when doing her own writing, Kamlani said it's ok if you make mistakes; you will fix the draft.

It's not about competition, but writing. (Kamlani was asked if, as a writer, she feels a sense of competition with those she edits. She said, "No. My book on Hopkins would be different than his book on Hopkins.")

Context is important.
* * * * *
I was interested in Hopkins before this session. By the end of it, I was interested in getting a copy of Marini's book when it comes out.

Further reading: Paul Mariani, Thirty Days: On Retreat with the Exercises of St. Ignatius
Beena Kamlani, Zanzibar, The Virginia Quarterly Review