I just spent 3 days in Pennsylvania and boy am I fat! Actually, I was fat before this week, but why quibble when you’ve got an excuse?
On Wednesday night we had “An Evening with Kerry Zukus” at the Lazy Dog Coffeehouse and it was a blast. I haven’t been this nervous since the first time I was pulled over by a State Policeman. But the nerves were all for naught. For one thing, the people at the Lazy Dog are the greatest. Yeah, I know, that sounds cliche, but I really mean it. Denyse, David, and their entire spirited crew were superb to work with — true professionals. If you’re ever in the region, you’ve got to go to this place — good food, good coffee, a martini bar (a martini bar in Lantenengo County?), and eclectic entertainment almost every night.
As for the evening, I was flabbergasted to see that we filled the place and sold out every single book we had for sale. And I had to sign all those pieces of pulp. Oy! I must admit, I started to get a little pottsy coming up with little personalized messages, and if I wrote anything in anyone’s book that may have offended them, I apologize. All I remember was that I called one woman “sexy,” another a “harlot,” and my old English teacher, “Stupid.” I guess I was over-stimulated.
I also got into a hugging jag. I suppose that’s the difference between doing a book signing somewhere where they only know you as “some guy who wrote a book,” versus being at a homecoming. I felt like I was at my own funeral, only I got to be awake for the whole thing. What I’m trying to say is, it was very touching to see so many familiar faces, people I haven’t seen in a thousand years. To those of you who were there, you were far too kind.
That all being said, the show itself was a lot more comfortable then I might have expected. Not one shot was fired. Yes, yes, a few folks tried to play “Guess the character,” but I don’t recall anyone even doing that during the official question-and-answer period, but privately before or after the main event. Maybe it was because 90% of those in attendance had not yet read the book. I’ll have to see if my hate mail goes up once they’ve cracked open the cover.
Oh, and as for the “all sold out” part … The Lazy Dog is still taking orders and I just sent them a whole load of books, so if you want to buy an autographed copy of THE FOURTH HOUSE and you don’t belong to the major book clubs that are the exclusive sellers of it, the Lazy Dog Coffeehouse in Minersville, PA is the only place in the world where you can buy this book! And they will even take mail orders if you don’t want to visit the mighty, mighty coal region. They’re located at 18 E. Sunbury St., Minersville, PA 17954, or you can call them at 570-544-4800, or e-mail them at dlw@lazydogcoffeehouse.com. They even take credit cards. But they don’t sell pierogies.
Finally, I know a lot of you who were there took an awful lot of pictures and I want them all! Seriously, I could care less about seeing myself; it’s just that I had my picture taken with so many people with which I want to remember this lovely reunion and if you’ve got those pictures, please share them with me via e-mail.
John O’Hara fans, take note! Kerry Zukus is following in the noted author’s footsteps and he’s quite good at it.
Published: Sunday, November 9, 2008 6:04 AM EST
John O’Hara fans, take note! Kerry Zukus is following in the noted author’s footsteps and he’s quite good at it.
In 1934, O’Hara used Pennsylvania’s anthracite region and his hometown, Pottsville, as the setting for his first, and most famous, novel, “Appointment in Samarra.”
Nearly 75 years later, Zukus also places “The Fourth House” in coal country, but the first-time novelist focuses his attention on Frackville, where he grew up in the 1960s and 1970s.
With acknowledgment to his literary predecessor, he even borrowed several of O’Hara’s fictitious place names, among them, “Mountain City” for Frackville, “Gibbsville” for Pottsville and “Lantenengo County” for Schuylkill County. But Zukus is less caustic than O’Hara in the way he depicts his hometown and his characters are from a totally different strata of society.
O’Hara eventually softened in his attitude toward Pottsville but, in his earlier years, he savaged it as “that God-awful town.” He was just as scathing writing about the townspeople who were his favorite literary targets — old-money aristocrats, coal magnates, Pottsville and Schuylkill Country Club members.
“Appointment in Samarra” outraged Pottsville, not only because of the way it portrayed the city but also because of its sexual content.
In the current “anything goes” culture, it’s doubtful that Zukus’ frequent use of obscenities and graphic descriptions of sex in “The Fourth House” will produce a similar reaction in Frackville, but he worries that what he says about the town may produce a backlash.
After expressing warm feelings for Frackville during a telephone interview from his home in Red Bank, N.J., he added that describing it as “a black silt hamlet,” “block after block of row houses” and “a town where time stood still” was calling it as he saw it. He also stressed that anyone walking its streets, especially the business section of Lehigh Avenue with its bulldozed lots and empty storefronts, would reach the same conclusions he did.
Frackville, unlike Pottsville, never had a local aristocracy or exclusive clubs. The most prominent social organization always was and still is the Elks.
For the most part, the central characters in “The Fourth House” come from the present-day middle class, the descendants of miners whose hands were always grimy from their occupation. Zukus, while not sugarcoating the people that he writes about, treats them with more respect than O’Hara did the powerful and privileged in “Appointment in Samarra.”
The main character in Zukus’ book is Jordan Matino, a young Philadelphia urologist. When he returns to Mountain City to spend Thanksgiving with his mother, he falls in love with Heather George, the girl who lived next door to him when he was growing up. After they decide to marry, their families, lifelong best friends, are strangely unenthusiastic. The couple’s search for an answer to the curious reaction uncovers a lifetime of secrets and lies.
Admittedly, I read “The Fourth House” with great anticipation because I grew up in Frackville, although decades earlier than Zukus.
I wasn’t disappointed. Zukus has a keen ear for coal region speech patterns and he brings to life a town that still retains remnants of the days when I lived there.
Another reason I found the book absorbing was the fun I had identifying places and people. Frackville’s Nice Street is renamed Good Street. When Jordan and Heather have latenight, clandestine sex on the putting green at the home of Stan Burke, Mountain City’s “one rich guy,” Zukus is obviously referring to real-life Walter Baran.
Occasionally, he uses actual coal region names, including Kerlavage and Nahas. He also mentions The Fink and The Alley, popular night spots on Route 61 during the 1970s and 1980s.
A connection to Frackville isn’t necessary to find the book compelling. I would have read it in one sitting even if I hadn’t been familiar with the town. Many of the quirks, attitudes and idiosyncrasies of Frackville that Zukus portrays in his book can be found in small communities everywhere.
In “The Fourth House,” Jordan Matino’s mother, Opal, is a church organist and his father is not a presence in his life.
Zukus’ mother, Dawn Rader Zukus Woratyla, West West Terrace, played the organ at St. Peter’s United Church of Christ when she lived in Frackville. His parents divorced when he was a child and his father died while he was still too young to have been influenced by him. When I pointed out the similarities to Zukus and asked if the novel was partly based on his own life, he replied, “Most fiction writers take kernels of reality and then expand on them. They play the ‘what if’ game, meaning what would follow if this or that had happened.”
What happened to Zukus after graduating from North Schuylkill High School in 1976 is that he attended Berklee School of Music in Boston, then worked in the arts as an actor, director and frustrated (his word) composer. After marrying, he moved from Boston to Red Bank, where he entered politics as a city councilman and became active in urban and downtown revitalization. In the past three years, he has also ghostwritten some 30 books, most of them memoirs, self-help and business. He and his wife have two sons.
Even Zukus uses the word “weird” to describe the marketing history of “The Fourth House,” the only debut novel published by Madison Park Press, an imprint of Book of the Month Club. Publishing mergers and a series of cost-cutting measures made the new owner, Bertelsmann, decide to get rid of the Madison Park subsidiary, but the novel can still be ordered from Book of the Month and its sister book clubs, Rhapsody, Doubleday, and Literary Guild.
Eventually, it will be sold through bookstores. In the meantime, it’s available on Zukus’ Web site and at the Lazy Dog Coffeehouse in Minersville, where the author will be on hand from 5:30 to 8 p.m. Wednesday for a book-signing and question-and- answer session.
John O’Hara, who died in 1970, turned out dozens of columns and commentaries as well as some 400 short stories and 16 novels and novellas before he died in 1970, but he never did a sequel to “Appointment in Samarra.”
Zukus has a long way to go before catching up to O’Hara’s output. However, using the same coal region setting but with different characters, he’s well on his way to finishing a continuation of “The Fourth House,” meaning that, at least where sequels to first novels are concerned, he will soon be one up on the man he considers his literary idol.
Major announcement: The Book of the Month Club and its sister clubs has made a major concession and is allowing for a book sale and signing for us back at the “scene of the crime,” Lantenengo County in the coal region of Eastern Pennsylvania.
On Wednesday, November 12, I will be appearing at the Lazy Dog Coffeehouse, 18 East Sunbury Street in Minersville, PA, from 6:30 PM to 8 PM. You can also call 570-544-4800 for reservations for dinner beforehand, starting at 5:30 PM.
I will be reading from THE FOURTH HOUSE, pontificating, taking questions, refusing to answer most of them, selling books, autographing them, and yodeling your polka favorites. Come on out and let’s party!
1976. We’re putting our high school yearbook to bed, but still have room for some candid shots. I had just purchased the classic, albeit new at the time “I’m With Stupid” t-shirt. Yeah, that’s me in the front, right.
As soon as I walked in the door, all my buds thought the shirt was a riot (we were all easily amused). It was determined that it deserved an appropriate place in the yearbook, but how, where?
Idea. I would slip on a jacket so that no one else could see the shirt. We would cruise around the halls — which we sometimes spent more time doing than attending class — until we found a victim.
Aha! One of our favorite English teachers was just then whetting his whistle at the water fountain. “Mr. Yarworth! Mr. Yarworth! Can we take a picture with you?”
He was a nice guy and far from stupid — smart enough, in fact, to figure there must be something up, as evidenced by his cynical facial expression. And so I was placed strategically next to him and when we all said, “Cheese,” I quickly slipped off the windbreaker, revealing the T. We showed him afterward what had occurred and a good time was had by all.
Flash forward 4,000 years. The guy on the right is now a published author. The teacher on the left was appreciatively acknowledged in the end notes of said author’s debut novel. After all this time, I hardly know where any of my teachers are — so, too, the rest of the guys in the photograph which graced our yearbook.
Then one day not long ago, out of the blue, I get a wonderful, handwritten note from that very teacher. In it, he indicated he had been tipped off about THE FOURTH HOUSE, picked up a copy, and was deeply touched (or something to that affect) by his mention in it. He added, “Do you remember that yearbook photograph? I got a copy of the original and have had it mounted and displayed in my office for the past 26 years. It reminds me of the type of fun and close relationships that used to exist between teachers and students, the sort that are not really seen in today’s schools.”
I’m bullish on teachers. I think they are the most underpaid, yet influential people alive. I remember every single one I ever had. Yet not for one minute did I ever think that any of them remembered me. But there I was, staring out at every visitor to this man’s office for the past 26 years. It was humbling.
Was I the best student he ever had? Hardly, I’d say. Hell, I’m not even the best or most celebrated writer from that graduating class. That honor would go to Scott Weidensaul, a Pulitzer Prize nominee and author of around 26 books. But maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to be the class clown sometimes. Apparently, when you do it in a good-natured way, it makes you memorable.
I’ve ghosted books on nearly every conceivable subject. The first question every new ghostwriting client asks is, “Are you an expert or do you know anything about [fill in the blank]?” My answer is usually always the same: “No.”
So how do I do what I do? Furthermore, why do these people hire me nonetheless?
Answer: While it is somewhat helpful to know a little about a subject before ghostwriting about it, it is absolutely unneccessary to be an expert. Why? Because the client is the expert. If I were both the expert as well as the (semi) talented writer, why the heck would I need the client in the first place?
Every field of interest has that dreaded thing called “jargon.” Experts use jargon endlessly and without pause. It is the language of their field. Fortunately or unfortunately, when people reach out for a ghostwriter, it is because they are looking for an audience beyond the narrowness of their field and its accepted experts.
Enter The Dejargonizer. This is my superhero name. When my client rambles on about “Invertilizing the DRC of the SMU, we econometrically strafe the LLG, which leaves us in a much better astrometrical situation,” I get to stand up and scream, “Enough! What the hell does that mean?” As The Dejargonizer, I get to revel in my ignorance. My lack of expertise is my greatest weapon. When a client says, “Wow, you really are stupid,” I get to respond by saying, “Thank you.”
I take jargon and make it understandable. This is not “dumbing down.” I hate that phrase. It is “universalizing.” You can be a genius expert in one field and totally lost in the jargon of another. This is not a measure of IQ. Writing is communication. I am hired by those who are often relatively poor communicators.
Yes, conveying this at an initial hiring interview is dicey, but since I am a paid communicator, my first job, my proving ground, is to get my potential client to understand all this. If I am successful, I am hired … and my follow-up novel is pushed back that much more on my life-calender, but at least the bills are paid that month.
It also helps that I am old as the hills. Ghostwriting is actually one of the few occupations where, I believe, the elderly (like me) are at an advantage. When I am asked if I know anything about [fill in the blank], there is a far greater chance that I at least have a nodding knowledge of it simply through life experience. A long life has also taught me humility. I used to be really, really smart, but now I’m dumb as a tree stump. This ingratiates me to people; don’t ask me why. I seem less apt to try to take over someone else’s dream project and make it my own. I don’t feel the need to do such things. In the end, this is the client’s dream, not mine. When I was younger, I doubt I would have understood that.
“I’m sorry, young Skywalker, but you are far too headstrong to ghostwrite my memoirs.”
It’s October 18th and I believe we Americans are due for a new national holiday. It is said that someone once asked Jerome Kern what role Irving Berlin played in American popular music. Kern replied, “Irving Berlin IS American popular music.”
In that same vein, John Lennon once said of Chuck Berry, “If you tried to give rock and roll another name, you could call it ‘Chuck Berry.’” I agree.
Yes, while many will argue over what was the first rock and roll record, few will despute that no one, not even the revered Elvis Presely, had more sustained influence over this thing we call rock and roll than Chuck Berry. He, not you, Little Richard, was the originator and the emancipator. If a person picks up an electric guitar, he begins with one reference and one reference first and foremost — Berry. When NASA radioed the sounds of our civilization off into outer space, they included the music of one popular musical artist: Chuck Berry. We await the alien response of “Send more Chuck!”
Today, October 18th, Chuck Berry is 82 years young and still playing. I suggest we all take time out from our busy lives and contemplate a world without “Johnny B. Goode”, a world without “Roll Over Beethoven”, and a world without “Rock and Roll Music”.
In fact, do just about anything to take my mind off the fact that today is the day I turn 50.
THE FOURTH HOUSE has been on the market for a little over a year now and despite the corporate expectations that it would be in stores across the country by now, things have gone a little awry. It didn’t help that my publisher changed hands literally the day the book came out — that’s the sort of horror story you often hear about certain Hollywood movies. Many of the folks I originally dealt with there are no longer around.
And so, the book continues to be available exclusively through the book clubs. Despite this, I continue to receive fan mail from the darndest places. A big shout-out to y’all in Sulphur, Louisiana! And to that library in Utah — wow, I can’t imagine people in Utah reading anything I wrote.
My book seems to be being passed around like a dirty magazine in a high school boy’s locker room. It’s a strange feeling.
Despite this, or maybe because of it, word of mouth remains contageous. I just checked and out of over 800 works of fiction, THE FOURTH HOUSE is ranked #161 in sales as of this writing. After being out for over a year, and for that year to have had no p.r. support outside of the clubs, this is amazing. Currently, it is ranked right behind the newest Nicholas Sparks book and ahead of the new Wally Lamb book, both of which were released after THE FOURTH HOUSE and thus more in possession of that “new car smell.”
(That’s Nicholas Sparks, not American Idol Jordin Sparks)
It’s a good feeling, indeed. Blips are coming up on the radar screen about movie rights, even inquiries from a major network about turning it into a television series! More on that as information becomes clearer.
So in the meantime, thanks to all for talking up the book and I hope to have more to report on that and other projects in the very near future.
Peace,
Kerry
(I also don’t believe this is the latest photograph of Wally Lamb, either)
Ah, let us exit Chendo for a spell and get back to the topic of ghostwriting.
(So, like, if “Ghost” was ghostwritten, would that be redundant?)
Other than the proven ability to write a full-length book, what else makes a good ghostwriter?
First off, one must have no ego. None. I mean, the kind of person who has his own website/fansite with his face and name splattered all over it would be a bad choice if you were looking for someone without an ego, right? Uh …
The definition of egoless in this case is that you, the ghost, must understand subservience, and most of the women in my life or who have ever been in my life know one thing … I can really do subservient — to my eternal detriment.
As a ghostwriter, you go in understanding that, in most cases, you will get no credit whatsoever for your labors. Yes, yes, we try and try to get a cover credit of some sort, but again, that’s only kinda/sorta ghosting, not hardcore, whip-me-’til-I-bleed ghostwriting.
The other aspect of being of no ego is you must remember that this is not a perfectly equal collaboration. A smart client will lean upon and take advantage of the expertise of the ghost, but in the end, the client — the person whose name is actually on the cover of the book — has the final say in all debates.
For this, I have “Kerry’s Rule.” Yes, I have one and only one rule as a ghost. That rule is, “I give my opinion once. If you take it, fine. If you reject it, I will never mention it again.” This is widely appreciated because no one wants to work with a moody nag, and a successful ghost is not simply a good writer, he or she must also be enjoyable to spend time with.
Time, oh yes, time. The relationship between ghost and client can often be intense. For as long as the experience takes, you become privy to literally everything in your client’s life. You are an underpaid shrink. They cry on your shoulder, they tell you their darkest secrets — many of which are too personal to even be printed in the final version of their “tell-all.” You get drunk-dialed late at night. Yeah, it’s kind of like that.
You must be a good listener. But there is a specificity to that, which dovetails nicely with the whole egoless thing. The ghost must be able to pick up the tenor of the client’s voice and all of its eccentricities. A bad ghost is one who makes all of his clients sound like him. If I led you to a row of books and told you I wrote 3 of them and you could thumb through them and correctly discover the ones I wrote, then I did a bad job as a ghost. Every client speaks differently. They all use different phrases and speak on a specific intellectual level. You must capture this. In that way, I feel that my acting background has prepared me well for this gig. Every ghosting job is like being cast in a movie; finding the character and getting into character and staying there.
