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I live my life with near-constant tinnitus — a roaring in one ear — and all I can say about Grace Talusan’s wonderful new review of Under the Small Lights in The Rumpus is that it somehow, magically, made that roaring disappear for an entire day. And come to think of it there hasn’t been much roaring today either.

I spent my early twenties haunting the same bookstores and cafes in Boston as Jack does, trying to be a writer. Like Jack, I could be insufferable at times. With a fresh nose piercing, chain-smoking over a mix of Alanis Morrisette, Smashing Pumpkins, and Nirvana, I talked in circles about all my hard life choices—where to live (Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, or Eugene), which guy to date (one summer, I strung along four at once), what to do for money while I wrote the book that would make me rich and famous (teaching or stocking shelves). I was all promise and passion, but too inexperienced to comprehend the gulf between my ambitions and my skills. I never once considered how privileged I was even to have these choices, to be able to ask the question Who do I want to be and what do I want to do in the world?

I love it when reviewers — of any book — add personal notes like this, and I wonder how in heaven’s name I’ve avoided running into Grace for all this time.

Also worthy of note: Rohan Maitzen’s thoughtful reflections on Under the Small Lights and my own reflections on its genesis, both on Open Letters blogs, Novel Readings and Like Fire, respectively.

Rohan notes:

I also found myself thinking, as I read, about something Claire Tomalin said about George Eliot: “She writes about sex perfectly,” Tomalin says; “She never mentions it at all. I mean, who needs the penis and the pubic hair? Sex isn’t that–sex is the feeling.”

I couldn’t agree more, although I’m not clear whether Rohan is implying I did or I didn’t include too much … either way, of course, it’s a potential selling point.

I’ve come now from Chicago (where I had a good time reading with Martin Seay and his lovely lady wife) to North Carolina — the sleepy/touristy burgh of Henderson, just outside of Ashville. The Ashville airport appears to be still under construction (lots of exposed plaster and backhoes) but the surrounding area is refreshingly nature-stuffed with misty mountains on the periphery and fireflies rising at night from the darkening lawn to the trees. I’m here with Elisa’s family, to celebrate her mom’s 60th birthday, fresh from celebrating my own sister’s 30th in Chicago (which was also a real good time — Happy Birthday, Erin!)

(Beside me, on the rented countertop of this rented cabin in “Forrest Hills,” sits a jar-jar binks mousepad — it is hypnotic).

Whilst I explore Chimney Rock, etc, please check out this awesome audio post & plug of Under the Small Lights Jason Behrends put up on Chicago Now: http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/chicago-subtext/ Jason was a gracious and generous host & MC for Martin, Kathy, & I the other night and I’m really happy to count him as a new friend.

It’s tonight – Under the Small Lights launches, sees the world for the first time at 7pm at 296 Walnut St. in Newtonville. MA, home of the beautiful and really friendly Newtonville Bookstore. The commuter rail – easily catchable from Back Bay Station — and cheap — stops right in front of where I’ll be tonight. Please come by if you’re in the Boston area, pick up a copy and let’s chat for a little. There will be wine & some beer at the reading and we may be grabbing a second one down the street later on. This is a big night for me and I’d love to share it with as many friends as can come.

I arrived at my own porch yesterday to find a large number of copies of a new book by a promising young writer. Thank you Dana Leonard & thanks Miami North.

You can find a copy on amazon, natch, and powells, etc., also at ‘better’ book stores, but I’ve got a lot of these here, so we maybe be able to work something out on our own too … over backchannel you see …