That A Friend Of Mine Would Get 99 Years

A few bookselling notes:

I’ve stopped putting the book up for sale on consignment in independent bookstores. It’s been selling well on Amazon and I don’t want to run out of copies while I’m on the road. Some of you may have noticed that the book has been listed as out of stock on Amazon for three weeks or so. This isn’t really true. Every week they order books and we send them in, but for a few weeks their orders have not been keeping up with the sales. This is a good thing.

Response to DMR so far:

Before my readings, I usually make a point to differentiate between myself and John, the narrator of DMR. As I’ve said before in this blog, I don’t think John is a very good person, and although he’s obviously very much based on me, there are important differences between us—or at least, I hope there are.

For the most part, people who’ve heard me make this disclaimer disagree with me—they don’t think John is that bad.

And for the most part, people who’ve written to me about the book seem to really like it. Of course, I understand that people who don’t like it are probably less likely to contact me, unless they really hate the book and feel the need to be very vocal about their feelings (this hasn’t happened . . . yet); but it’s very nice that people have been so positive so far.

I’ve heard from friends, strangers, other writers, from people with relatives who have some form of disability (or whatever it’s called), and I’ve heard from people who care for people within DMR or similar organizations. I appreciate every single one of these responses, and I’m flattered that people I’ve never met take the time to read a book I’ve written.

On the night of the release party for DMR, I arrived early with a friend to Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton. We helped with the setup of food and chairs and books and such. When we were all done, there was still a substantial amount of time before the party was scheduled to begin.

I wandered around the museum and sat down in front of a looping video about a glass artist, Josh Simpson, who works in Western, MA (in the barn where my friend’s grandfather was born, though I didn’t know this at the time).

While I sat there, four people from DMR walked (or were wheeled) into the museum and passed me. Two were caregivers and two were Individuals. I panicked for a moment and then followed them around a corner. I tapped one of the caregivers, who’d stopped to look at some piece of art, on the shoulder, and asked her if she was there for the reading. She replied, “What reading?” I said never mind, and walked back to the looping video, relieved.

For a moment, before tapping the caregiver, I thought some DMR employees had seen the ad for my reading in the local newspaper and decided to attend with a couple Individuals from some nearby group home.

I didn’t realize until then, but I was terrified of what the Individuals would think of DMR.

So anyway, at this point, I’ve gotten over this particular fear, and I’m interested in what someone who’s been labeled with mental retardation thinks of DMR. I’m interested in what this person will think of John. And I’m interested in what this person will think of how John thinks of THEM. I capitalize “them” because, to him, to John, they are a class, a group, a type of people who are separate from himself—at least, that’s my take on John.

I’m certain that at least one of the guys who I cared for while working for DMR, would be interested in having DMR read to him (and I say having DMR read to him because no one ever bothered to teach him how to read, though I have no doubt he would’ve learned rapidly), but it will be difficult for most people to understand his response. He has grievous physical disabilities and has never spoken a word.

Note: While writing this I got a call from an old DMR co-worker. He reiterated that the DMR administration is not happy about the book, but assured me that the staff will be very supportive of it. And he said that “anyone who writes from their conscience is writing from a powerful place.” I thought this was a very nice thing to say.