And how do I thank my editor, the talented, funny, and darling Maya Ziv? Her editing savvy, sharp eye, and even sharper instincts well and truly brought out the best in my work. She helped me develop my manuscript in every imaginable way. Maya is dedicated and tireless. I admire her as a professional and cherish her as a friend. I’m also grateful to the staff at HarperCollins, including: Jonathan Burnham, Cal Morgan, Erica Barmash, Amy Baker, Martin Wilson, Rachel Levenberg, Kate McCune, Lillie Walsh, Samantha Hagerbaumer, Diane Jackson, Cathy Schornstein, Mary Beth Thomas, Eric Svenson, and Kathryn Walker.
I owe a mountain of thanks to my literary agents, Wendy Sherman and Kim Perel. Wendy has been my champion from the beginning—uncommonly generous with her expertise, enthusiasm, and care. Kim put her trust in a manuscript that was too short by half. But she saw something in my writing and took me by the hand. We workshopped the manuscript together until it became so much more. Kim’s encouragement helped me through those times when I felt overwhelmed. What an angel she is.
I would also like to thank the wise and delightful Jane Rosenman for helping me focus on theme, mood, and character development, specifically that of Trinidad Prefontaine.
I would be seriously remiss if I failed to acknowledge the excellent teachers who helped me hone my craft: first and foremost, Professor John Kimsey, my mentor at DePaul University’s School for New Learning. John devoted endless time and attention in order that I might realize my ambition. He directed me to the likes of James Joyce and Flannery O’Connor, and I can never thank him enough. Contrary to Miss O’Connor’s famous proclamation, in this case a good man was not hard to find.
Bonaventure Arrow began as a short assignment in Dan Stolar’s graduate fiction-writing class at DePaul. A talented author himself, Dr. Stolar enthusiastically encouraged me to continue developing my magical realist story. Craig Sirles, professor and linguist par excellence, introduced me to the concept of le mot juste and helped me develop my own voice and style. As I struggled with working full time, going to school, and trying to progress as a novelist, I was fortunate enough to be part of Kristine Miller’s Advanced Writers’ Workshop at the College of DuPage. Her instruction spurred me on at a critical point.
And now I wish to thank those near and dear, most especially my sons, Neil and Tom Gorman, for the joy and pride they inspire and express in me. I will love them eternally. My spunky mother, Ella Iris, is a constant inspiration. She and the rest of my family have always let me know how proud they are of me, and honestly, sometimes it moves me to tears. My love and thanks to Mike and Cindy Iris, Bruce and Mary Raith, Celia Amerson, and Mark and Jamie Wojcik. I also wish to thank my first readers for their helpful comments and nonstop encouragement: Alisa Waldman, dear friend and fellow writer who read this book more than anyone; Karin Vojtech; Carol Boyke; Carol Grudzinski; Amy Boschae; Amelia Orozco; and Mike and Tracey Leganski (Tracey helped me see how the story should begin). Last but not least, I really must thank Maisie and Harry for lifting my spirits ever so high.
I am indebted to the following people for the professional expertise and kindness they extended to me during my research: Mr. Charlie Farrae, historian at the Hotel Monteleone, for bringing the New Orleans of the forties and fifties to life, most especially the French Quarter; Cher Miller, manager of the New Orleans Visitor Center and wellspring of information, for steering me down every right path; Anita Kazmierczak-Hoffman, library cataloguer at the Williams Research Center on Chartres Street, a division of the Historic New Orleans Collection, for her diligence in helping me access and sift through a vast number of documents to find those pertinent to my story; and finally, Claire Henderson at the National Railroad Train Station Museum on Basin Street, for helping me envision exactly where The Wanderer would have gotten off the train.
Invaluable to my research as well were the aforementioned Williams Research Center; the Historic New Orleans digital collection at www.hnoc.org; the Louisiana Digital Library at http://louisdl.louislibraries.org; the Catholic Encyclopedia at http://www.newadvent.org/cathen; the Catholic Study Bible Second Edition (New American Bible); and the King James Bible online at http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org.
Anyone familiar with religious texts knows about the Psalms. My hope is that someday I’ll be able to turn the joy in my heart into a Psalm of thanksgiving and offer it to God, for He has been good to me.
P. S.
Insights, Interviews & More . . .
About the author
Meet Rita Leganski
RITA LEGANSKI grew up in northern Wisconsin, and believes it was the long and magical winters of her childhood that cultivated her imagination and love of books, especially Southern literature. She holds a BA in literary studies and creative writing from DePaul University’s School for New Learning, where she won the Arthur Weinberg Memorial Prize, as well as an MA in writing and publishing from DePaul. She currently teaches writing courses at the School for New Learning. She and her husband, Paul, live in the Chicago area with a Siamese cat named Tiramisu and an orange tabby named Jeebz.
About the book
The Southern Side of My Heart
I GREW UP IN NORTHERN WISCONSIN, where winter makes the snow squeak under your boots and turns your breath into crystals of ice. But summer does come around, full of sunshine and the smell of earth and most usually a breeze from the west. Whatever the season, it was a wonderful place to curl up with a book; I did it all the time in a well-worn wing chair in my room, or on a makeshift couch in the sunporch.
Southern writers were my favorites—Carson McCullers, William Faulkner, Eudora Welty, Tennessee Williams, Harper Lee, and many, many others. They took me from the plains of my northern home to a landscape vined in lushness, where flora had names like magnolia, scuppernong, and trumpet creeper; where people had names like Scout, Calpurnia, and Battle Fairchild; where places had names like Yoknapatawpha; and where a streetcar was named Desire. I got lost in that place of different constellations, with its mint juleps and velvet evenings.
After high school, I left my small town for a job in a bigger city. I always intended to go to college—the best-laid plans and all—but I got married, and then the children came along. It wasn’t until they were grown that I finally earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees at DePaul University in Chicago, and determined that I would become a writer.
This novel began to form in graduate school as an assignment to write a short story. The first thing I did was type out a title: “The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow.” It had come to me with no forethought at all, and it instantly felt right. Next I began to write character sketches. The eponymous Bonaventure was a mute little boy with a gift of rarest hearing. He was quickly followed by Grandma Roman, Dancy, William, Brother Harley John Eacomb, and Trinidad Prefontaine. Last, I imagined the International Church of the Elevated Forthright Gospel.
I heard echoes of those favorite Southern writers of mine, and so I set my story in 1950s Louisiana in the fictional town of Bayou Cymbaline. A magical, haunted, and lovely place steeped in faith and superstition—the ideal home for a gifted little boy who could hear fantastic sounds.
I finished with graduate school, but not with Bonaventure Arrow; I went back into that short story, adding characters and events and weaving a larger plot. Letice and Remington joined the cast, as did Mr. and Mrs. Silvey, Tristan Duvais, Gabe Riley, Calypso Fontenaise, and that most complex of women, Suville Jean-Baptiste. The last to join the story were Eugenia Babbitt, The Wanderer, and the retired Pinkerton, Coleman Tate. As I wrote, Bayou Cymbaline became a metaphorical house of God, a place of joy and sorrow and forgiveness, with Bonaventure and Trinidad its partners in salvation.
While most of the book takes place in made-up Bayou Cymbaline, some of it happens in New Orleans. Trust me—no one could make up New Orleans. When this novel was in the later stages, I went there to verify my research. But one does not “go” to New Orleans; one experiences it. New Orleans is music and sass. It is beads and carnival and Creole spice. If it w
ere human, New Orleans might be a society lady with holes in her stockings and her feet in dancing shoes.
Being there allowed me to walk the streets of the story I had written, going where my characters had gone, placing them squarely in the reality of the Garden District and the unforgettable French Quarter. I ate beignets at Café Du Monde and was charmed by Antoine’s Restaurant. I took in the elegance of the Hotel Monteleone and checked the time on its wonderful clock. I went to the Roosevelt to see for myself where Letice’s wedding reception would have been. I strolled past Saint Anthony’s Garden tucked there behind Saint Louis Cathedral, that most beautiful church on Jackson Square. I looked in the windows of Rubenstein’s. I found houses like those I had imagined for my characters—Consette’s on Esplanade Avenue in Faubourg Marigny, Suville’s on Dauphine Street in the Quarter, and William’s on Washington Avenue in the Garden District. I rode the St. Charles streetcar. I saw where The Wanderer had gotten off the train. I went to cemeteries. I saw angels made of stone.
New Orleans is fiercely and justifiably proud of its uniqueness. I was fortunate enough to meet some of the extraordinary people who take pains to preserve its history; they offered me not only Southern hospitality but incredible expertise. An extensive visit to the Williams Research Center on Chartres Street led me to archivists who provided access to the Historic New Orleans Collection, which yielded artifacts from the 1920s to the 1950s—train schedules, Mardi Gras tickets, menus, and hotel bills—all things my characters would have seen or even touched. Concierges gave wonderful directions, and in one case, a gentle correction: Initially I had The Wanderer arriving in New Orleans on the Great Southern Railway. But when I mentioned that to Mr. Charles Farrae, the charming historian at the Monteleone, he said in his smooth-as-butter New Orleans accent, “Why no, dawlin’. That would have been the Panama Limited. It left Chicago at five in the evening and arrived in New Orleans 9:30 next morning. There would have been a glorious breakfast.”
Of course research proved Charlie right. It was indeed the Panama Limited, a Pullman with a wonderful dining car—a fitting thing to have with a destination like New Orleans.
Though every effort was made to achieve historical accuracy in this book, it is after all a work of fiction. Though most places I mention with regard to New Orleans really do or did exist, I must ask the reader to imagine that a law firm called Robillard & Broome had offices on Magazine Street, and that the A&P Tea Company had a grocery store near the corner of Gravier and Tchoupitoulas.
You can’t forget a name like Tchoupitoulas. Even as I write it here, I’m taken back to the Southern literature I love so much, and other unforgettable names—Atticus Finch and Boo Radley; Goodhue Coldfield and Eulalia Bon Sutpen; Berenice Sadie Brown and John Henry West. I am imagining Spanish moss dripping from trees and dogwood flowering profusely. And I am willingly lost once again in the Southern side of my heart.
Read on
All-Time Favorite Books
BOOKS ARE THE STRONGEST MAGIC— they can bend reality into unexpected shapes. The best of them bend our thoughts and feelings until they, too, have taken on a new shape. My favorite books are those in which the writer’s voice is unique and the language is rhythmic and lyrical— think One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. I also love a strong sense of time and place.
Here are some books that have had a great influence on me:
A Gracious Plenty by Sheri Reynolds
The voice is strong from the start, and so are the characters, especially the narrator, Finch Nobles. Imagine a disfigured and sassy outcast and you’ve got Finch, a cemetery caretaker who talks to the dead—but the thing is, the dead talk back. Finch finds out that even the promise of acceptance can be enough to keep you going. That’s something we all need to be aware of.
A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Connor
I owe much to the short story for which this collection is named. O’Connor’s very Southern voice is unforgettable, and her characterizations are flawless. I’m not sure I could have come up with Adelaide Roman without having read Flannery O’Connor.
Peace Like a River by Leif Enger
Reminiscent narrator Reuben Land tells an unforgettable story of love, loss, and faith as seen through the eyes of his eleven-year-old self. Although he is plainspoken, his voice is mesmerizing as he relates the quest he went on with his father, Jeremiah, and younger sister, the feisty and memorable Swede, as they searched for their fugitive son and brother, Davy. Leif Enger makes the ordinary extraordinary as he writes of life and death and miracles.
The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers
This story is told by an anonymous third-person narrator possessed of a uniquely Southern way with words. It’s my favorite when it comes to a character-driven story. In a short period of time, twelve-year-old tomboy Frankie Addams undergoes emotional transformation as she awkwardly tries to be accepted. She goes from Frankie to F. Jasmine and finally refers to herself as Frances in an attempt at sophistication. Frankie is mostly an irascible child, yet you can’t help but be touched by her vulnerability. Carson McCullers explores hope and despair as a rite of passage in this book. Like Frankie, we all yearn to belong.
The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett
With masterful prose, Ann Patchett explores the human condition: the nature of love and the need for it, the complexities of trust, the lure of secrets, and the redemptive power of starting over. It’s a superb story in which death is the catalyst for action.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Told by the reminiscent narrator Scout Finch, this book will be forever relevant. There is nothing more to say. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it, and I’ll read it many times more.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Philosophy is twined around fantasy in this wonderful story within a story. Not only is Pi adrift on a lifeboat, he’s also in the company of a hyena, a zebra, an orangutan, and a talking Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. One by one the characters are killed off until eventually just Pi and Richard Parker are left. This insightful tale brings a startling revelation about instinct, will, and survival.
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
As with many of Faulkner’s novels, this one is set in Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi. Addie Bundren has died, and her family sets out to honor her wish to be buried in the town of Jefferson; however, the task proves quite eventful. There are motivations at work, and therein lies the story. Chapter nineteen is just five words long: “My mother is a fish.” It doesn’t get much more intriguing than that.
Dubliners by James Joyce
This collection of short stories is immortal. Joyce’s characters range from young to old and occupy different stations in life, but they all undergo a common experience— they come to know themselves. It’s purely lovely.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Fitzgerald’s simple yet elegant plot turns time backward. I love the idea of an inexplicably different child aging from old man to infant.
The Third Angel by Alice Hoffman
This is a skillfully crafted retrospective that unravels the interwoven lives of three different women, all of them looking for something to believe in. This is a story about strength, weakness, and the fascinating nature of love.
Don’t miss the next book by your favorite author. Sign up now for AuthorTracker by visiting www.AuthorTracker.com.
Advance Praise for The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow
“THIS MYSTICAL FAIRY TALE SET IN A 1950S-ERA LOUISIANA RIFE WITH RELIGION, SUPERSTITION, AND TRADITION DRAWS YOU IN FROM THE WONDROUS FIRST PAGE. SILENCE HAS NEVER BEEN SO BOUNDLESSLY ELOQUENT.”
— Booklist
“AN IMAGINATIVE AND TOUCHING STORY OF THE SURPRISING WAYS THAT WE HEAL. RITA LEGANKSI HAS CREATED A GEM IN BONAVENTURE, A YOUNG BOY WHO CANNOT SPEAK BUT WHOSE SILENCE RINGS WITH TRUTH AND HUMANITY. IF I COULD HEAR A FRACTION OF WHAT HE DOES, MY HEART WOULD EXPLODE
WITH JOY.”
— Todd Johnson, author of The Sweet By and By
“I’M VERY GRATEFUL FOR OPENING TO THIS BOOK’S FIRST PAGE. EVERYTHING ELSE I HAD TO DO FELL AWAY AS I WAS TRANSPORTED BY THIS SPECIAL LITTLE BOY AND HIS REMARKABLE GIFT. I HAPPILY IGNORED MY REAL-LIFE COMMITMENTS FOR THE MAGICAL, MYSTERIOUS WORLD OF THIS NOVEL ABOUT SECRETS, FORGIVENESS, AND HEALING OF ALL KINDS, AND MY ‘REAL LIFE’ HAS BEEN BETTER FOR IT EVER SINCE.”
— Katrina Kittle, author of The Kindness of Strangers and The Blessings of the Animals
Copyright
Cover design by Amanda Kain
Cover photograph © Alfonso Bresciani
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
P.S.™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE SILENCE OF BONAVENTURE ARROW. Copyright © 2012 by Rita Leganski. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow Page 30
