travel

National Memorial for Peace and Justice

| Ted Wheeler

A few weeks ago I went down to Montgomery, Alabama to visit the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, which educates about lynching in America and how its legacy of racial violence echoes through our society today. Unsurprisingly, the visit was such a powerful experience. As a result of the research I’ve done over the past decade, some of which is posted here, I arrived knowing many of the facts about lynching in America, but the memorial is an effecting piece of art in the way your physical perspective changes while walking through, so that the hanging casks (each of which represents a county where a lynching was committed, and which features the names and dates of those murdered) start off at eye-level and are hanging above you by the end. It’s a devastating piece, in a necessary way. Here are some photos I took:

 

For almost a year now I’ve had the privilege of working with a coalition of folks here in Omaha to bring a replica of the Douglas County cask that’s on display in Montgomery. Thanks to the tireless work of people like Vickie Young, Chris Whitt, Franklin Thompson, the Kingfisher Institute at Creighton, and many others with the Omaha Community Council for Racial Justice and Reconciliation, there will hopefully be a dedication of the cask near the site of the Will Brown lynching this September, which of course is the centenary. Keep an ear out for that.

Here is the poem “Invocation” by Elizabeth Alexander, which is featured at the end of the memorial and is of an emotional coda for the experience.

The wind brings your names.
We will never dissever your names
nor your shadows beneath each branch and tree.

The truth comes in on the wind, is carried by water.
There is such a thing as the truth. Tell us
how you got over. Say, Soul I look back in wonder.

Your names were never lost,
each name a holy word.
The rocks cry out—

call out each name to sanctify this place.
Sounds in human voices, silver or soil,
a moan, a sorrow song,

a keen, a cackle, harmony,
a hymnal, handbook, chart,
a sacred text, a stomp, an exhortation.

Ancestors, you will find us still in cages,
despised and disciplined.
You will find us still mis-named.

Here you will find us despite.
You will not find us extinct.
You will find us here memoried and storied.

You will find us here mighty.
You will find us here divine.
You will find us where you left us, but not as you left us.

Here you endure and are luminous.
You are not lost to us.
The wind carries sorrows, sighs, and shouts.

The wind brings everything. Nothing is lost.

Lost in Iberia

| Ted Wheeler

Here are some choice photos from my last couple weeks hanging out in Portugal and Spain! The Disquiet International Literary Program is what brought me to Lisbon–and I had a blast with the other participants with all the events and bar nights–but I was also able to fit in a couple side trips too. It’s been pretty great to recharge spiritually before my first novel comes out in a few weeks. (Have I mentioned Kings of Broken Things yet? Order now!) On the spiritual restoration score, mission accomplished! But my body is a little beat up. So much fun though.

 

Beach drinks, Barcelona.
Tapas, Lisbon.
Bookmobile parked outside our visit to the US Embassy, Lisbon.
Gótico, Barcelona.
Beach in Cascais.
At Sole e Pesce with CCB, Lisbon.
View from Aljube, Lisbon.
Alfama, Lisbon.
Sardine tapas at Sol e Pesce, Lisbon.
Miradouro breakfast, Lisbon.
Mural in Bairro Alto, Lisbon.
Jamón in Barcelona.
Beautiful views in Cascais.
Cais das colunas, Lisbon.
The rocky outcrop we sunned on at Cascais.
Golden Gate Bridge, sort of, Lisbon.
On the Tagus River with Amina Gautier.
Crazy sea boulders, Cascais.
Sagrada Família, Barcelona.
Green sea rocks, Cascais.
Lisbon.
Church at Miradouro Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, Lisbon.
Gótico, Barcelona.
Praça do Comércio, Lisbon.
2D sculpture, Barcelona.
Miradouro de São Pedro de Alcantara, just around the corner from my place in Lisbon.

About Writing and Politics in Six Parts

| Ted Wheeler

1-4-00-courtesy-of-the-durham-museum-600x491Somehow I missed when this essay was posted in September, but it seems so much more appropriate to post here on the eve of Election Day anyway–an essay on the relation of politics and art within my work. So please finds my contribution–“About Writing and Politics in Six Parts”–in Schlossghost #1, a year book for the 2014-16 fellows of Akademie Schloss Solitude.

The essay is a response to two questions posed by the editors of Schlossghost, Paula Kohlmann and  Clara Herrmann. “Would you say that your (artistic) practice is political? If so, how would you describe its political dimension?”

Find the whole response at the link above, and here’s a sample for now:

In May, earlier this year, I covered a Donald Trump rally that took place in an aircraft hangar near the Omaha airport. At first I was a little worried about even going, as there had been quite a bit of violence at Trump rallies the month before and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a party to all that ugliness. But, on the other hand, of course I did. That’s a big part of my job description, the part of the job I like, to be witness to these things.

The rally itself was mostly dull. Trump spoke for a long time about Japanese tariffs without much insight, and the biggest part of his speech was a 20-minute anecdote about this time he handed out trophies at a charity golf tournament. During the rally a few protestors were thrown out. His supporters for the most part looked bored throughout, except at the beginning and end, when his helicopter landed and when they could chant »build that wall.«

I wondered about my feelings of disappointment after the rally. What was I expecting? Wasn’t xenophobia on display enough? Were the protestors dragged out too peacefully? Or did I miss something, the feeling of the event, the undercurrent? Did I feel the way I did because I wasn’t in the crowd? I sat up in the press section – a platform with tables where journalists were corralled behind a fence. By accident I sat between a Fox News anchor and his producer, to comic effect. Seeing their frustration with having to follow Donald Trump made me a little grateful for my obscure lot, for not having to spend all day working a story and then being told to reduce it to a ten-second clip of a long-haired young man shouting »fuck you« at the police.

Photos from the Road: Bad Faith Book Tour ’16

| Ted Wheeler

The summer photo dump spectacular continues! Here are a bunch of photos from the bookstore readings I was a party to this summer while out promoting Bad Faith, my debut collection of short fiction.

On to the photos in a second, but first, thanks to all the booksellers, book buyers, and bookstores along the way for your hospitality and hard work. And a special thanks to Dave Madden, Amina Gautier, and Tyrone Jaeger, my compatriots out on the road. This was such an amazing experience and I couldn’t have found any better people to share it with.

The front window at Magers & Quinn in Minneapolis
“Yes, I actually do this for a living,” at Pegasus Books Downtown in Berkeley.
Pegasus Books Downtown in Berkeley.
Boswell Book Co. in Milwaukee.
Ty reading at Boswell Book Co.
Group photo from our last night of leg 1, at Beaverdale Books in Des Moines.
My turn to read at Indigo Bridge Books in Lincoln.
Stained glass beer ad inside Vesuvio’s, San Francisco.
Signing books at the Bookworm in Omaha.
Dave reading at Boswell Book Co.
A life ambition fulfilled, reading at Prairie Lights in Iowa City.
Our introduction at the Book Cellar in Chicago.
On stage at the incredible Mother Foucault’s antiquarian bookshop in Portland.
A dear old friend, Mr. Jake Hoppe Esq.
The flyer Pegasus made up for our reading in downtown Berkeley.
Leg 2 begins at Green Apple Books on the Park in San Francisco.
Me, Amina, and Dave at Pegasus Books Downtown in Berkeley.
A great crowd at Beaverdale Books in Des Moines.
The marquee at Green Apple Books on the Park in San Francisco.

Photos of Trains

| Ted Wheeler

Amid all the great news lately about my forthcoming book publications, I’ve still been hard at work on my next novel. The novel is something I’ve mentioned a few times here and read some work-in-progress excerpts at Solitude Nacht and Fair Use reading events. This novel is set mostly in 2008. This makes research a little easier than it was for Kings of Broken Things, of course, which is set during World War I, so we’ve taken advantage of this mild Midwestern autumn to head outside and scout some locations that figure in the book. Railroad bridges in Plattsmouth, Nebr., various eateries and locales in Chicago. Fun stuff! It’s been a while since I did a travel post and I like some of these shots. Here you go.

 

 

The Southern Review Shipping Now–featuring “The Missing”

| Ted Wheeler

Late on Friday I heard from The Southern Review that their autumn 2015 issue (featuring my story “The Missing”) is currently shipping and should be out in the world soon. If you’re already a subscriber, keep an eye out this week. Otherwise, TSR is offering a “friends & family” discount that I’m able to share here for 25% off the purchase of single copies of the journal or any subscription. Use this coupon code: FRIEND514.

The issue also contains fiction by Erin Flanagan, Steve Amick, and Matthew Baker, and poetry by Floyd Skloot, David Kirby, Fleda Brown, and David Wojahn, among others. (Check out the table of contents here.) I haven’t seen the issue yet, but I’m really looking forward to it. Some exceptional company to keep, as I’d expect.

Here’s what I wrote when “The Missing” was originally accepted for publication back in January, if you’re interested in some deeper background. In short, “The Missing” follows a young father who runs off to visit a friend in El Salvador rather than face the prospect that both his wife and daughter-to-be could die during childbirth. This story represents a couple different progressions for me. One being an engagement of a more dynamic style, something I worked on extensively while on fellowship at Akademie Schloss Solitude last summer while working on a new novel. And the other development being that the story addresses issue of fatherhood and anxiety about childbirth and responsibility from that point-of-view. Usually it takes me a long time to digest things emotionally–so a five-year lag between becoming a father myself and being able to work on a story like this isn’t so bad.

Thanks again to Fiction Editor Emily Nemens for taking the story and for all her hard work editing “The Missing” into the best shape it could be.

Soaking it up down at the beach.
Costa del Sol, El Salvador.

This is going to be a good week, I think. I had a great time at the Omaha Lit Fest this weekend, and held my own during my panel. (Thanks so much to Timothy Schaffert for putting everything together this weekend, and to Douglas Wesselmann and Marilyn Coffey for sharing the panel with me.) Plus, Notre Dame beat USC in an entertaining rivalry game; the Royals are up 2-0 in the American League Championship Series after yet another huge comeback and could clinch a World Series spot in the next couple days. We harvested a bumper crop of carrots and beets from the garden today. My contributor copies of The Southern Review are on their way. What’s not to like?

Photos from Solitude / Performing Omaha Uninitiated

| Ted Wheeler

Check out these photos from my return trip to Solitude and Stuttgart last month. The trip was pretty successful, I think. There was a great response at our performance of “Omaha Uninitiated: Stateside Race Riots & Lynching in the Aftermath of World War I,” the multi-media contribution Darren Keen and I put together for Akademie Schloss Solitude’s “Quotes & Appropriation” symposium. The room was nearly filled for the performance. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

It was a lot of fun to bring so much of the research that went into writing my chapbook On the River, Down Where They Found Willy Brown and the related novel (still in manuscript) titled The Uninitiated. Trying to guess how an audience will react (or if they will react at all) to a piece is a constant obsession for most writers, so actually being up in front of a group of mostly strangers and talking to folks afterwards was a nice culmination of sorts, and a commencement too. Knowing that I can get the attention of a room full of Germans and artists from all of the world interested in the history of Omaha is heartening to say the least. There’s still the matter of getting the novel version of this material published, and published well, and then promoting that, but I’ll enjoy this for a little bit, while I can.

Omaha Uninitiated.
Omaha Uninitiated.
Omaha Uninitiated.
Omaha Uninitiated.
Omaha Uninitiated.
Omaha Uninitiated.
Buddies.
Stuttgart.
Reconnecting with the wildhogs of Rotwildpark.
Not so much traveling around European elsewheres this time–but plenty of exploring Stuttgart.
Hanging out at Super Popular Sanchez in Stuttgart.
The courtyard, host to many events last summer, in a very frosty state.
Frozen Barensee.
Darren and Lu getting set up before the show.
Frozen Schloss.

(Photos of the presentation were taken by Franzi Ziegler.)