Minneapolis Star Tribune books editor Laurie Hertzel recently published a memoir of her life in journalism. If you're thinking it's a book about someone who singlemindedly pursued a goal of a journalistic career from the get-go, complete with advanced degrees and crazed ambition, you're in for a surprise. Hertzel's journey, as the subtitle ("Adventures of an Accidental Journalist") notes, was far from direct (although it should be noted that as a child, she was already publishing her own newspaper called, appropriately, "Newspaper").
Laurie's story is not just about making her way through the newspaper world of years past, but of the North Shore of Minnesota and what life was like for residents during some very tumultuous years. One of the things I love about this book is the exploration of ways of life that have come and gone, whether it's the way newspapers worked and were regarded or how the boom years came to a screeching halt on the Iron Range.
Another aspect I loved was its place in the genre of memoir without falling into Oprah-crisis territory. Not that everything is roses and sunshine--the newsrooms back in the day were bastions of manliness, and sexism was rampant. Today it's hard for men to blatantly assume a woman will manage the office coffeepot; when Laurie was expected to do that, she simply resorted to making terrible coffee in order to get that monkey off her back. There's no self-pity or "poor me, having to cope with these trials" in this book; instead, it's a greatly affectionate look at a specific time, place, and career. Oh, and visits to the former Soviet Union.
The University of Minnesota Press was kind enough to send me not just a review copy, but a giveaway copy of News to Me, which I will arrange to have signed before delivering to the winner. Details are at the end of this post. In the meantime, Laurie was kind enough to answer a few questions for me.
How peculiar and awkward is it to be the books editor at a newspaper, trying to promote your own book without compromising your job?
It's very awkward. I am careful, all the time, not to blur the lines. But I think sometimes the lines *are* blurred, simply because you can't separate "me the writer" from "me the books editor." People know what my job is. Are they interested in my book because of what my job is? Maybe some are. There's nothing I can do about that.
But I'm careful. You will not find mention of my book on my Star Tribune books pages. I did not send my book out for review--I did not even mention the publication in my Bookmarks column,
as I do all other local books.
When the Variety section folks did a Q&A with me, I debated whether or not I should post it on the online Strib books page. I did, and immediately got a comment from an anonymous reader who deemed it inappropriate. [Amy’s note: Hello, anonymous commenter—do you read the books page? Because it’s full of local writers. If someone other than Laurie Hertzel had written this book, it most certainly would have been covered. </soapbox>]
Certainly I am not the first newspaper books editor to have to juggle this. I am just careful to do my book stuff on my own time, and everybody else's book stuff on work time.
What was it like growing up in such a gigantic and passionate family?
When you belong to a family that size, it naturally breaks into manageable groups. So there were the "big kids," and the "little kids." And I, at child No. 7, was in between both groups. There was also an occasional group called "the three little kids and Laurie." I'm a naturally shy person to begin with, and I usually keep away from big gatherings, even when it's nothing more than my siblings. I think being solo in a big family helped make me more observant, which of course turns out to be a fortunate attribute for a journalist.
Can you talk about the nature of memoir, how it seems to be changing from the Oprah-style woe-is-me-and-my-pitiful-upbringing to some of the newer types, in which yours is a member?
It's been interesting to watch how memoir has changed over the last, say, ten years. Memoir before Mary Karr and Frank McCourt was generally more sedate, I think--less turmoil, fewer scenes, less dialogue. Less novelistic. Did that make it more accurate? Hard to say, but it might be so--I found when I was writing my book that I only had snatches of scenes from those early years. And instead of adding ambiance and action that I didn't remember, I just kept the scenes very short.
But of late, memoir is extremely detailed and filled with novel-like flourishes. It makes it much more entertaining, that's for sure.
And for a while, of course, popular memoir was dire--alcoholism, and abuse, and cutting, and dying siblings, and all kinds of wretchedness. It's fascinating, if somewhat voyeuristic,
I'm sort of relieved to see this new wave of memoirs which are focused more on everyday life, made interesting through detail and writing.
Think you’ll go back to Russia again?
I look at what I did in 1991, going there alone, without knowing the language, without knowing how to get around or communicate, and i'm kind of appalled at myself, and a little bit impressed, too. Would I do it again? Probably not that way. But I would like to go back; it's a fascinating place. And there's so much I didn't see.
Think you’ll ever retire to the North Shore?
I wonder---actually, I wonder if I'll ever retire. Anywhere.
To win a signed copy of this wonderful read, leave a comment on this post telling a career story of your own--a first job, a job you "fell into," or wish you had. Entries accepted through Sunday, Sept. 19, and winner determined by the all-powerful random number generator.
