Oprah’s Greatest Conversations with Authors: 30 Years of Oprah’s Book Club

Hi, and welcome to this special bonus episode of the Oprah Podcast. This year, we are celebrating the 30th anniversary of my book club, the Oprah Book Club. And I want to thank all of you for reading along with me for the last three decades. To books! To books! To books! Long before I started a book club, one of my favorite things to do was to share my love of books. And I remember when The Color Purple by Alice Walker was first published, I bought out every copy in the store in Baltimore at the time. And I used to hand them out on the bridge, walk into work to people. I would actually walk home when I moved to Chicago. I had a backpack, and I would walk across the Wacker Street Bridge with my backpack, handing out the book, The Color Purple. It didn't occur to me I could have had a book club and I'd have to be out there on the streets. I want to get the whole country reading again. Bring on the book! But back in the 90s, one of my producers, Alice McGee, and I used to trade books back and forth. And when we really loved a book, we would look up the author in the actual phone book. There was a thing called a phone book at one time. And then call the author to say how much they're. How much the novel had meant to us, because after you read a really good book, don't you just wish you could go talk to the author? Well, I thought, I'm going to do that. Well, it was Alice McGee, my producer, who started out as an intern, actually, who said, if we are having this much fun together, why don't we just recommend the books to other people, to the audience? And I said, Alice, how are we going to talk about books on television? And she said, well, if you tell the audience to read the book first, and then they read the book, and then we could all come back and talk about it. And I said, OK, let's try it. And we started out with, like, just five minutes, because we were, like, scurred that people wouldn't want to do it. And, you know, believe me, all the station managers were like, what, you're going to talk about books on TV? At the time, this was a really radical idea. I bought my first book, and I bought it, so I would have to read it. I love you for allowing me to be able to read something that. helps me identify who I am. I live for the book club. And now, today, so many well-known people, hello, Reese Witherspoon, hello, Jenna Bush, have book clubs, and I celebrate them, and I celebrate that, because it means inviting more people to enjoy reading and believing and elevating great writers who are my rock stars. Our first book to read, it is a novel, written by Jacqueline McNeely, it is called Deep End of the Ocean. So, in this episode, we are turning the pages through some of my most, most treasured conversations with some of my favorite authors. I have many more upcoming picks. I'm reading right now. I'm always, always, always reading. I'll be announcing those new picks soon on the podcast. Our partner, Amazon, has created a storefront to make it so easy for you to browse all 120 books in the book club selections, as well as 30 of my most memorable reads to celebrate these 30 years. So, you can access it by scanning the QR code on your screen right now. And I say thanks again for joining me for all of those books I like reading by the fire or reading under a tree. But wherever you read, I'm happy that you've been reading with me. Thank you, everybody. Well, I love all the books we've done in the book club. Obviously, I have to read them. I have to read them and then choose them. Some people love a lot of them. Some people don't. But The Bluest Eye, this month's election, is so special to me. Well, you know, I have this to say about The Bluest Eye. I remember when I announced it on the show, I was saying, if you don't appreciate, love this book, then I'm really, I have nothing to say to you. And I just, and I really do mean that. It is on my list of, you know, top five great books ever written of all time by living or dead people. And we're so glad you're here. We're so glad you're still living, Toni Morrison. But I have to say, I was in an airport not too long ago and I saw an entire row of bluest eyes, like in a major airport. And I'm telling you, my eyes started to water because I thought, Pecola has her day. How do you feel about, I mean, I know this is a first. Does it feel like your baby has finally come into me? I'm surprised how deeply, how deeply emotional I am about this book and the characters. On the one hand, I still feel totally entangled emotionally, very vulnerable to them, to the characters in the book. And that's not good for a writer. As we just saw that piece where you're talking about, you know, why you wrote the book and we see all the images and the cartoons. I mean, the first time I saw that piece, you know, watching from my dressing room, I was very emotional. I was very emotional about it and asking myself, is it, you know, some residue pain that I have or is it for all those girls? For the girl I once was, for all those girls? I think so, because I had the same feeling. I thought, why is this cutting so deeply now? I wrote the book, I lived the life, I did this. Why is it hurt? And I realized as my eyes were filling up, whatever I was feeling, it was also for those girls. What started you to write it? I began to write this story ostensibly about an incident that took place when I was maybe 11 or 12 years old about this girl who said she wanted blue eyes. In your class? Mm-hmm. And I, all I remembered about the moment was looking at her, suddenly, and seeing how extraordinarily beautiful she was. But when I looked at her and imagined her with blue eyes, Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Suddenly, the way she looked made me gasp. Oh, I thought it was, it was like a mutilation. Yeah. The fact that she really wanted to look like a freak. Mm-hmm. Which is what blue eyes would have made her look like. Mm-hmm. You know, the damage was already done for some of us. Correct, correct. So I thought, nobody's gonna remember how it really was. Nobody's, and also, there was no book about it. Mm-hmm. Nobody had talked about it, touched it, went there. I thought, yes, nobody went there. No, nobody went there. And I've been told a number of times in public venues early on, I don't hear this anymore, you know, I really like the book, but I was really angry with you for writing it and putting it, sort of putting our business in the street. Mm-hmm. The business of intra-racism. The business of self-hatred and self-loathing. Mm-hmm. And skin color fights and skin privileges. Skin color fights that we have with it. Right. That a lot of people who are watching us right now in a lot of states don't even know exist because we all are just still black folks to them. Mm-hmm. And they don't know. Like, you all are fighting still amongst yourselves based upon grades of color. Mm-hmm. Right. The colors. The colors versus the other. And then the paper bags and. Mm, yeah. Mm-hmm. The paper bag test. That's right. You couldn't go to certain schools. No, you mentioned that in your letter, I think. Yeah, she did. You mentioned it. I didn't know about it. I don't know. I didn't know about that. Yeah. There's a paper bag test? Not now. Not anymore. Yeah. But, you know, in the '40s and the '30s in black nightclubs in Louisiana. I never heard of that. if it was a black-owned nightclub and they wanted to keep the club, you know, above a certain hue. Mm. So they would hold a paper bag up to. Whoever was coming in. entrance into the club. And if you were. Darker than the paper bag. the paper bag or lighter you got in. Right. if you were darker, you wouldn't. That was true, right. You know, that was a long time ago, but it seeps into the psyche. Oh, sure. Oh, yeah. I get that. Well, I think what I found, too, was there were a lot of things. One thing was I do. One of my daughters moved in with us when she was older and came with this message because she's dark-complected that she's ugly. Mm-hmm. And to try to tell her how beautiful she is. Of course. Right. But I mean the direct message. Mm-hmm. Yeah. It's there. And that is hard because I don't know what to. You know. Toni says a beautiful thing about the messages that we get about who we are. What we are when a child first walks in the room. Can you talk about that? I said it's interesting to see when a kid walks in the room, your child or anybody else's child, does your face light up? Mm. Or. And that's what they're looking for. When my children used to walk in the room when they were little, I looked at them to see if they had buckled their trousers, if their hair was combed, or if their socks were up. And so you think your affection and your deep love is on display because you're caring for them. It's not. When they see you, they see the critical face. Mm-hmm. What's wrong now? Mm-hmm. But then if you let your. As I tried from then on to let your face speak what's in your heart. Mm-hmm. because when they walked in the room, I was glad to see them. Mm-hmm. It's just as small as that, you see. That is what I think is so profound because that is how you learn. That's right. what your value is. That's right. It's not what someone is saying to you. Mm-hmm. but what you feel. Yeah. When I was growing up, my grandmother, because she had to work for a white family in Mississippi, and there's a photograph that I still have on my desk. It was the only photograph I have a my grandmother is with her holding this white child and when she would come home, you know and whip me chaps Chastise me talk to me, you know in not the most loving term But every time she would ever talk about those white children pleasure It was she was Pauline there would be this this sort of glow Inside her about these white children and that was when I when I read what you'd said I thought that's the message. That's when I first got it that you are better If you're a white you can be loved more if you're white if I were only white she would love me I read the book again last night and when I got to the part where the berry pie falls And and here her own child is burned and she goes well, honey And she slaps her child down on the ground and slaps. Yes. Yes, and it was just the leg curls underneath We're concerned about berry juice on a dress It's like get a grip here. This is your chat. No, you've messed up my white folks kitchen No, no, no, I mean it's it's no We've seen that absolutely Seen it and felt it. I have I have I have even felt it. How are you affected by the book time? I Think it opened my eyes I Can not experience what you all have experienced even though little bits I have I can remember being selected to be an angel in the church pageant and being told that I Don't think you should be an angel because you have dark eyes and dark hair and you do know angels are blue-eyed and blonde No, there is this hierarchy of Race and at the top It's sort of a Christian figure, you know So long hair or blue eyes blonde and then everything else is down below until you get to animals So the farther away you are from that The less value you have that's right Thus you have that what we were talking about earlier the paperback test the Creole lines Distinction color that we took upon ourselves. Yeah, we took it The ugliness that's how you come to that. They cultivated it Yeah, that chapter when you talk about the breed loves in their ugliness Yeah, that was amazing. Oh, well every sentence is you know, I read Toni Morrison a lot Everybody knows I love Tony's writing But I read it to open myself up and there's not a time when I have come to your words When I have not been enhanced by the language. I mean we were talking about you true. You're truly gifted Do you think so? I think that you know, I think okay. Okay, because you Really be surprised if you say oh no No No, I think you've got you are truly gifted and I work hard and she works hard at it. I love that I think that you know, we do lots of shows on child raising and how to handle your children That's one of the most profound things I've ever heard for all you moms are worrying about dirty ears or is your hair combed? the most important thing is which we all felt when we heard her say it is Do your eyes light up when your child walks into the room when that big that's profound my 114th book club selection we're here to talk about it today And I just have to say I have to stop myself from tearing up when I think about this book because it is epic it is poignant it is hauntingly beautiful and I read it back in October and I still sometimes wake up thinking about the characters The book is called the emperor of gladness by celebrated author ocean bong Welcome ocean I Want to talk to you about being this accomplished author with so many awards Hard to mention them all at just 36. You have a wild list of accomplishments New York Times best-selling author A professor of modern poetry at NYU a multiple award-winning poet essayist novelist screenwriter We also won a MacArthur genius grant and English isn't even your first language. Hmm. Where does this come from this wellspring of of creativity? I have to say I was raised by women who were illiterate and I think about this often. Where does it come from? I think even though they were illiterate they were the first poet Because they saw that when they came to this country with nothing they realized that with language they can make anything happen So I just want to say you and your family immigrated from Vietnam to the United States when you were just two years old Yeah And I know your mother worked in a nail salon for 25 years to support the family and she watched the Oprah show every day At four o'clock that TV would be on that's what you told me when I called you sometimes. It's just us three me you and And her on slow days, I would answer the phone at the nail salon and You know, she would be there working and what's so interesting was that when you called me. This is Oprah. How are you? This is Oprah How are you I Recognized the voice right away. I just didn't believe that you were talking to me for any any real reason But when you I heard your voice I said, this is the voice I heard all my life at four o'clock When I answered the phone and you know, I wanted to tell you this that your voice was a kind of mediation for all of these women in the nail salon both the workers and the people who went there to get their nails done because I Saw them when they came in with their husbands and they'll the husband will wait for a while And then he they will leave and after a while it will just be all women and I found that their voices changed And I think that's what's really amazing about this show is that you know, there's a lot of people who don't know what they're talking about They don't know what they're talking about. They don't know what they're talking about They don't know what they're saying. They don't know what they're saying. They don't know what they're saying There's a lot of people that don't know what they're saying "The sun does shine." - Yes, ma'am. - Because those were your words when you came outside for the first time after being held behind bars for 30 years. - Yes, ma'am. - And everybody was expecting you to say something. - Yes. - You said. - The sun does shine. I know we'll forget that morning that exactly the judge had ordered me to be released at 9:30. And it seemed as though the sun was shining on no one but me. And I looked over at Mr. Stephens. He was shining on him as well. And I couldn't see it. And then as I walked a little farther, it was just as though the sun was following me. And I got up to the podium and I said, "The sun does shine." Because I had been in pure hell and darkness for all those years. And I don't think I can even put in that book or tell you today what it's like to be on death row for something that you know you didn't do. And you put up with everything you have to put up with. - Well, you know, in every story, I think people try to imagine themselves in that story or imagine themselves, you know, what would you do or have done? I mean, just how it just would eat you up inside to know that justice was not served and now you're behind bars. So I want you to take us back, actually, to the day you were mowing your mother's lawn. And you're out there cutting the grass for your mom 'cause you were living at home with your mom. You were 29 years old at the time. - Yes, yes. - And would you say you were mama's boy? 'Cause you sure did love your mama. - Oh, I am and I still love her. And although she's not here, she will always be in here. - Yeah, in your heart. - Oh, yes. There's not a day that go by, not a night that I don't take her photo and kiss and say goodnight, mama. - Oh. - In about 20, 25 minutes into cutting the grass, I happened to look up and there stood two white gentlemen that I didn't know. Then they identified themselves as two detectives. And I said, "Okay, how can I help you?" They said, "We have a warrant for your arrest." And I said, "For what?" And they said, "We'll tell you that later, but right now we want you to put your hands behind your back." I complied, put my hands behind my back. We proceeded to go to jail. And I asked these detectives at least 50 times, "Why am I being arrested?" They would not respond, would not say a word. And he finally turned around. I was the one that wasn't driving. And he said, "You want to know why you've been arrested?" I said, "Yes." He said, "We're charging you with first degree robbery, first degree kidnap, first degree attempted murder." I said, "Oh, I ain't done none of that." And he kind of yelled at me. "Let me tell you something right now. I don't care whether you did it or didn't do it, but I'm going to make sure you found guilt of it." And as we drove a little farther down the road, if that wasn't, I guess, insult enough, he turned around. He said, "By the way, there's five things that are going to convict you. Would you like to know what they are?" I said, "Yes." He said, "Number one, you're black. Number two, a white man is going to say you shot him. Whether you shot him or not." He said, "Believe me, I do not care." He said, "Number three, you're going to have a white prosecutor. Number four, you're going to have a white judge. And number five, more than likely, you're going to have an all-white jury." He said, "Do you know what that spells?" And he repeated the word, "conviction, conviction, conviction, conviction, conviction." This is the police officer? This is the police officer. Wow. Were you terrified? Did you realize the magnitude of the severity of what had just happened to you? Did you-- I didn't because, you know-- Are you still in-- you're just still in disbelief. I'm in disbelief because, as I talked to the detective, the detective said something profound to me that he looked at me and he said, let me tell you something. He said, "I really believe you didn't do it." He said, "But since y'all is always taking up for one another--" Y'all. Y'all. He used to worry. He said, "Take this for your home, boy." And with tears down my eyes, I said, "Detective, Detective, I don't have a homeboy in this world that I would take a rap like this for." And I've always been brought up, Ms. Winford, to believe that the police wanted to get the right person. Yeah. But this day, for some reason, they just wanted a body. Because your mother raised you to-- she's one of those strong black women, southern women, believes in authority, believed if you worked hard, showed up, things would turn out all right for you, just tell the truth, tell the truth, and everything will turn out all right. Go to the police, the police will help you, is what she believed, that the police were the people to help you. Based on what I read in the book, you never went back home. No. I want you to take us to the courtroom after a year and a half has passed, and you're sitting in the courtroom. And after the ballistics expert, who turns out to be blind in one eye and incompetent that your lawyer had hired, messes up so terribly on the witness stand, you knew then that you were going to be sentenced. Absolutely. The prosecution crucified him. And when he asked him, did he know how to turn on the machine, he said, no, I had to ask for help. He said, and once they helped you, what did you see? He said, I didn't see anything but my fingers. He said-- You never seen the bullets? He said, no, I finally seen them later on, but I seen just my fingers. Where did they get this guy who sounded like a buffoon? Off the street, I believe. The DA asked him, said, how much are you getting paid? He said, well, I might get $50. I may get $100. I don't know. I may not even get anything. I just come, did the lawyer a favor. And Ms. Winford, then, I swore-- You knew it. I said, they're going to find me guilty. Because my case revolved around nothing but ballistics. Either they match or they don't match. Can you take us to the day you heard that the jury comes back in and they say guilty? Can you take us to that moment? Well, when they said guilty, I really lost sight for a few seconds. I was just totally in shock. I wanted to know, what did they find me guilty on? And to me, it was nothing but a high class lynching. And I often tell people, two white men came and arrested me. Three white men prosecuted me. A white judge sentenced me. And a white jury found me guilty. Nothing but a lynching. And everything that I ever believed in. Take your time. Everything that I believed in and was taught as a child left me. I just somehow wanted to protect my mom. I didn't quite know whether she understood that I had been found guilty of capital murder and what that meant. And I didn't know, did she fully understand? And I didn't understand that more than likely this prosecutor was seeking the death penalty. And I kept saying, I need somehow to protect my mother. There was something you said around page 65. I wondered who would I be when this was all over. Everything good was being taken away, one small chunk at a time. Belief, family, truth, faith, justice. I wondered who I would be when this was all over. How could I be the same? The same person? Would there be anything left after this trial? And what if they actually found me guilty? What then? Nobody believed me. And some days, it felt like the whole world, except for my mom, was conspiring against me. Yes. You know, I had taken a polygraph test and passed. And-- And the polygraph test was not admitted. Not admissible. And I'm saying-- And the man who gave the polygraph test said, this guy is innocent. Yes. This guy. This is a retired FBI agent. And he said-- I'll never forget the lieutenant asked him, how did he do? He said, if I could go by this polygraph test, I would take him out of this jail tonight. And when I passed the polygraph test, and the prosecution reneged on his words, saying we could use it. If I passed and if I failed it, he could use it. It just sucked every ounce of energy, every ounce of belief, everything out of me. And how-- I mean-- How-- if you've been taught that justice prevails and the truth will come to light, I didn't see being convicted. I thought it meant then in the courtroom. I didn't know that I was going to spend 30 years later before the truth come out. I didn't have-- It's unbelievable. It's unfathomable. And so there was some dark nights of the soul. You went immediately into-- onto death row. Yes. And-- You -- You stopped speaking, literally. Three years. You did not speak. Did not speak. Every time an officer would say, what is your name? What is your social security number? What is this? I just wrote it down and gave it to them. And for three years, they thought I couldn't talk. It was as though God had taken my vocal cord, and I couldn't talk. Ms. Winfrey, when I tell you, I didn't even realize that I could have so much anger inside of me because of what had been taken from me. And I went in this hell hole, and I just knew. I was trying to figure out, what does time become? Time become-- are you counting the days? Is there like calendar time in your head? Do Tuesdays or Wednesdays or Thursdays or Fridays matter? If it's May or if it's December, does it matter? No. Time is nothing like it once was. Or in fact, time don't even exist. Because you're in a place where, when daytime is at an end, they're going to come get you. And they're going to scrap you down in the chair or the garden. And as it turns out, your cell was just 30 feet from the death chamber where men would have to take the walk down your hallway. Yes. With, what, eight other cells. Eight. Eight other cells, top and bottom, and walk to the death chamber. And when they were killed, you could smell their flesh burning. Oh, yes. And in your time there, you witnessed-- 54. 54 men and one woman being executed. Executed. And of all the 54, I asked a guy. I asked a guard. I said, officer, is there anything you can give me so I won't have to smell their flesh burning? Flesh burning. That officer looked at me. And he said, no, there's nothing I can give you. And if there's a consolation to it, he said, you'll get used to it. And one day, somebody will smell your flesh burning. Yes. And it was at that moment, that very moment, that I escaped up here. I had to. And I often tell people, I kind of understand why about 11 men took their own life. If you can't escape up here-- In your head. It's over. You can't survive. Yeah. If you're just dealing with that every day, the reality of being in this five by seven cell. So what broke it for you? It was someone crying in the night at first, was it not? It was a man that had lost his mother. Yeah. He was wailing, wailing, wailing, wailing. And this is a man that I had lived by for three years and never asked him his name, where he was from, or anything. I wasn't there to really to get to know anybody. I wasn't there to make fun. I wasn't there to make friends. All I knew, I was there for something I didn't do. And when I heard this man crying, at an early age, my mom had taught me compassion. And it was that compassion that I hollered through this brick wall, and I got up to the front of the door, and I yelled out with my voice. And I said, hey, there's something wrong over there. It took him a while to reply, and he finally said, I just got past. And I told him that I was sorry to hear that other man was listening. They hollered, hey, I'm sorry as well. And I told him a corny joke, and we kind of laughed just a little bit to try to break it. And I laid back down, and the next morning, I realized my voice was back as well as my sense of humor. And I ain't looked back since. I used this up here to go wherever I wanted to go and made as many people I could laugh. And you say, in The Sun Does Shine, you say, I wondered why it is that the cries of another human being, whether it's a baby or a woman in grief or a man in pain, can touch us in ways we don't expect. I wasn't expecting to have my heart break that night. I wasn't expecting to end three years of silence. It was a revelation to realize that I wasn't the only man on death row. I was born with the same gift from God we are all born with, the impulse to live. The impulse to reach out and lessen the suffering of another human being. It was a gift, and we each had a choice whether to use this gift or not. What I knew, when you're hanging at the end of your rope, does it really matter what color the hand is that reaches up to help you? What I knew was that he loved his mother just like I love my mother, and I could understand his pain. Absolutely. And the fact that mine was still alive made me appreciate her more and made me understand his loss even more. That first night, when there was somebody crying on death row, and then you ended up making a joke and recognizing that they lost their mom and had compassion, and then the men started speaking to each other for the first time, right? And then you later found out that one of the people that you had been speaking to and had befriended was a man named Henry. Yes. Can you tell me about Henry? Well, Henry was a Klu Klux Klan's son. His daddy was a Grand Wizard in the Klan's organization. And I got to learn the story. Henry's father was upset that a black man had got found not guilty in a murder trial. And he ordered him to go out and kill the first black man that they came across. And they came across a 19-year-old. I think it was 19. And they befriended him, got him, somehow tricked him in the car, and they hung him and cut his genitals off. When Henry was-- This is in 1980-something, right? Yes. And as I got to know Henry and realized, I didn't know who I was talking to, and-- So you all are just voices in the day and night. Yes. Because nobody can see anybody on the road. And what I learned about Henry is that Henry had been taught to hate all his life. And myself, along with some other blacks, we didn't judge Henry, because everybody was there for accused of killing someone. And so Henry and I became friends. And I kept wondering-- Was it difficult to become friends with a man who you knew had been accused and found guilty, not just accused, but is on death row for lynching a young black man? It was not. It was not. Why was it not? It was not because I personally didn't know had Henry done that. I was there on death row for something I know I didn't do. So I couldn't just-- I couldn't just judge by him being guilty. And I never did ask him, did you do it? You didn't. I never did ask him that. I just feel that wasn't my business. And if you did it, that's between you and your God. And let me say, before I end this, death row is the only place that I would be in where I didn't never witness racism. And I often thought about that. Why is it that I never witnessed racism here? It's because all of us had the same sentence to death. We went to bed with the death sentence over our head. We woke up with a death sentence over our head. We all wore the same clothes, the same tennis shoes, the same whatever. We all ate the same thing. So it wasn't no difference. It wasn't no need to be jealous. It wasn't no need to be racist. We all was there to die. And we all had to become and somehow become each other's support system. So much so that you created a book club. Yes. I'm very proud of my book club. I'm very proud of mine. You had your own book club. Yes, I did. What gave you the idea for the book club? The fact that you were able to, in your own mind, go anywhere you wanted to. Right? Yeah. And you thought books would help them do it. Absolutely. I heard you all read-- you read James Baldwin. Yes. "Go Tell It on the Mountain." Yes. I loved James Baldwin. But I also read other books like "Your Blues Ain't Like Mine" and "Go Tell--" "Tequila Mockingbird." You wrote that, "We are all slowly dying from our own fear, our minds killing us quicker than the state of Alabama ever could. Men would do all kinds of crazy things rather than spend another night with their own thoughts. Bring in the books, I thought. Let every man on the row have a week away inside the world of a book. I knew if the mind could open, the heart would follow. It had happened to Henry. Look at him sitting here in a locked room with five black men, who had nothing to lose. He'd been taught to hate us and fear us so much that he had thought it was in his right to go and find a teenage boy and beat and stab and lynch him just because of the color of his skin. I had no anger toward Henry. He had been taught to fear blacks. He had been trained to hate. Death row had been good for Henry. Death row had saved his soul. Death row had taught him that his hate was wrong." Yes. He died knowing that. He died. And what I loved, on the night of his execution, they ask you two things. What you want for your last meal. And do you have anything you want to say and I was told that Henry said all of my life My father my mother my community taught me to hate the very people that they taught me the hate of the very people that taught me how to love and tonight As I leave this world I leave this world Knowing what love feel like And I often say that if we can teach people to hate We should be able to teach them to love. Yeah And I fought society. I fought this It take a village to raise a child and often acts. What was this village when this young boy was being talked to hate? What was this village when? He need him the most and so That book club and the fact that we treated Henry no different I Really believe Henry left this world a better man that he came in I know for you and certainly as I read the book one of the Deepest sorrows is that your mother didn't get to see you free and that the last time she saw you and every time she heard Your voices said son. When are you coming home? Yes, when are you coming home? She would ask me that And I I lied to her every time she asked me a moment. They're working on it They just gonna take some time and and I at some point I didn't know what's my mother trying to protect me I knew I was trying to protect her in the truth and I couldn't say mommy next year next month and the night I Found out that my mom had died. I Really didn't give a damn Well, I live Because I truly believe That my mom died of a broken heart, yeah, I Guess in some way I feel like she I often say she got tired away. Yeah, and She left his world and that night that I had called mr. Stevenson and I doesn't mr. Stevenson. Oh, yeah, I said I don't give a damn about this case I said my mom gone and I don't see myself in this world without my mom and Without saying thank you without saying I appreciate I just hung up and that night as I tried to sleep It was as though my mom came in the cell and stayed in my ear all night long And I could hear her saying I did not bring you up to be a quarter and that night I Could hear my mom tell me That she would disappointed me because I've been thinking about killing yourself you were thinking about killing yourself yes after finding out that she had died And earlier that morning I Called mr. Stevens, and then I said mr. Stevenson. I won't apologize for hanging up, but I had a moment of weakness I Want you to give the state of Alabama all the hell you can give Finally after Bryan Stevenson and the equal justice initiative taking on this case 16 years later after they took on the case you finally are Released after he goes to the Supreme Court. Yes, ma'am And he was just asking the Supreme Court to review it. Yes, and in their review. They made a decision Yes, what did you feel like that day? I cried like a baby right there in front of all the other guy inmates that I didn't know and I got back on the phone And I said when he said I'm here I'm gonna get it back to Birmingham and I can't tell you Zack but I'm gonna find out and we'll know and he said I'm gonna talk to the judge and he did and The judge wanted to keep me in one day longer. He said no I want him out as soon as possible and I got out on Good Friday and Hadn't been to like a regular church in 30 years and that Sunday. I was able to go to my first Easter service and every Good Friday's is It's my anniversary and so are Had it not been for Bryan Stevenson God sending me his best attorney. I Wouldn't be sitting here. I wouldn't be in this world the state of Alabama Knew that I was not the person they knew that going didn't match and to this day No one in the state of Alabama have had the decency to apologize to me Would it mean something if they did it would for this reason it matters to me that the victim family? Think that I'm still the person that killed a loved one. I think they deserve truth as well and It would mean to mean that For society that believe in the death penalty we do send innocent hands and women to death row and just to hear this the authority The system say we made a mistake would mean a lot to me and It won't give me back what I lost But it would mean a great deal to me for them to say we sorry We made a mistake and we promise that we will not do this again I'm here in Poland at the Auschwitz death camp Where it's estimated that 1.1 to 1.5 million people? Perished here and the Holocaust most of them Eastern European Jews it is here right here on this track Railroad track leading into the camp that a young teenage boy Arrived in a cattle car with his family friends and neighbors in 1944 That young boy Elie Wiesel lived to bear witness to the evil of man prisoner a 7713 from Sighet Hungary Ellie Wiesel was just 15 years old when he was sent to Auschwitz years later He would write his first-hand account in What has become one of the single most important books of our time night now a Nobel Peace Prize winner? prolific author professor world-renowned Humanitarian and Holocaust survivor Ellie Wiesel returns to Auschwitz to meet me and walk these hallowed grounds When here you will notice the professor speaks very softly allowing the silence to have its space and As we walk the memories seem to come in waves as he recalls that first night in 1944 the word at Auschwitz What a place yeah, what a place what a place What is it even coming back now? difficult it's time I come my I Try not to speak for for for a day or two or three Not just to go back and find The silence that was in me then And I say to myself how many of us did not live And simply vanished look at this place the main city of the place It's a universe And when you think of the numbers million and a half people Just think country that our city that has a million-and-a-half inhabitants and simply vanishes And so I think of that I come here and Try to see the invisible And try to hear the inaudible And I always see But I had seen the last time I was here Do you think that the ground speak it carries its own energy here? It has the voices of the dead. Do you think? Absolutely I'm convinced of that that they some some voices are still here I Think the souls are here. I think they listen they cry they warn Look this is the largest cemetery in recorded history And what do you see nothing nothing But the cemetery is in our heart Yes, it's huge I am stunned at the vastness of it. It's huge. It's It was meant to be huge in order to receive so many millions of people Yeah I remember the first impression I had when I kind of became was at night and it was with all the lights on projectors dogs Shepherds German Shepherds Assessing machine guns predict the vastness of it the vastness of the whole place. Yes And we didn't know that's the meeting. We had no idea about our shoes wrong. I never heard of her touch Nobody knew what hmm, but we had we know we would have run into the forest. So this is about where you arrived, right? Right here, that was the ramp, yeah. Where the platform was. And what did you think or imagine? Nothing. You saw the extraordinary horror of people with machine guns starting to shout. Literally a minute later, first of all, families together, then men alone. Didn't have time to say goodbye to each other. Men to the left, women to the right. Eight words spoken quietly, indifferently, without emotion. Eight simple, short words. Yet, that was the moment I left my mother. I didn't know that this was the moment in time and the place that I was leaving my mother and Sipora forever. Where were you separated from your little sister and your mother? Yeah, I think, yeah, yeah. My sisters, two older sisters, my grandmother, and my little sister, I remember her because she had a red coat that she got for holiday. A little red coat? Yeah. Oh. And that's when I saw them. I saw them disappear all of a sudden. They went left, they went right. They went to the crematorium. That was the crematorium? Yeah, yeah. But we had no idea. No idea. Even afterwards, we had no idea. When some inmates said to us, you see, we said, we're families. They looked and they said, the flames. We still have no idea. The mind refused to accept it. That it could be true. It could. It could be. Well, I appreciate how in the introduction tonight you say that language became an obstacle in trying to describe it because there are no words. There are no words. There are no words. They were throwing babies alive into the inferno of the ditches and you saw it with your own eyes. That's what you write in life. With your own eyes. I saw it. I began doubting. I said, I cannot believe that it was true. If so, I would have lost my mind forever. And years later, I was wondering, what is it for these people? Inhuman. But they were human. And I said, go on to us. In those times, it was human to be human. I have seen so many things in my life. I still don't grasp it. It must have some meaning. That is it, me. That evil can triumph. We knew that. I don't know. That humiliation exists. We knew that. But of this, it was a scandal on the level of creation. I know. I have no answers. And all these many years later, you still have no answers. I have no answers. No answers. No, I have certain indications that suffering doesn't give any privilege. That's my moral philosophy. I don't think I should accept other people's suffering because I suffer. Just the opposite. Because I suffer, I don't want others to suffer. But this is not an answer. Well, you know, I'm trying to make sense of it all. It doesn't. It's a lot to take in. And it just. And seeing it makes it more real, but I can't even get my brain around it. The death of one child makes no sense. Yes. The death of millions. What sense could it make? Except we are here. Now we know. Now we know. And I think that part of the reason for knowing is to. wherever it's happening in the world, for people to know it's happening. It's happening. It's happening again. Whenever people could try to conduct such experiments against other people, we must be there to shout and say, no, we remember. No, we remember. We're delighted to be in Maya Angelou's house celebrating a heart of a woman. Thank you, Miss Maya. Thank you very much, Miss Oka. Of all the places in this world, Maya Angelou's house is most like home to me. This is still where I feel most at rest, most at peace, and where I feel the greatest sense of my own possibilities. You just can't leave this home without feeling changed in some way and touched by Maya's wisdom. So tonight, I'm thrilled to get to share that special feeling with four women I know only through their letters. I was saying earlier to Maya, I couldn't get selected in my own book club because I would have wrote, Dear Miss Angelou, you wrote a very good book. Very, very. Very, very. Capital V underlined twice. I really did like it a lot. I thought your life was very good. You all, the Olympics. Because the letters were really just extraordinary and we were able to get to know each other. We're going to start with Cheryl, who's going to read hers so that those of you who are out there who said, I wrote a letter and I know I'm as cute as any of those women who were there, you can hear why we thought that their letters were so, we were so impressed with their letters. Dear Oprah, I have learned through re-reading Heart of a Woman that in the quest called life, I am constantly in search of the best me, though I will never really find her. And maybe it is the genius of the creator that I'm not really meant to find her here in this life. Only five minutes in and we were already a-booing and a-hooing at Cheryl's letter. And after each woman read, we got another dose of Miss Maya's wisdom. Some folks think that you have to be very educated to be eloquent. Extremely blessed and talented to be eloquent. There's nothing more eloquent than a parent saying to a child, I love you. That's eloquence. A lover saying to a lover, I love you. That is pure eloquence. Then it was Sherry's turn. I spent this Saturday after your announcement quietly reading in my room and being grateful for having Maya Angelou in this world. Her strength, courage, and spirit shone throughout this book, but most importantly, I know why she says, phenomenal woman, because she sure is. And thanks to her, I am proud to call myself woman. Oprah, thank you for the opportunity to share this with you and for all the great things you do in the name of women. Sorry, today I am grateful for you. But it was Beth's letter that just reached down and grabbed the heart of every woman at that table. These next few minutes are about as profound as it gets. Dear Oprah, I don't know when I'm going to be able to say what I'm going to be able to say when I first started reading Maya Angelou's books and poetry, but I do know that when I was 13 years old, she literally saved my life. I was raped by a family member and I was suicidal. That's when Dr. Angelou saved my life. I had a copy of "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings." As I read her story, I found someone who understood my feelings. Our experiences were different. But the feelings were the same. She knew me even though we had never met. I clung to that book like it was my lifeline. At night, I tucked it under the mattress. As the abuse continued, I knew that under my mattress was the writing of someone who knew what I was enduring. I was not alone. She understood my terror, my pain, my fear of telling anyone what was happening to me. I had no one I felt I could tell. So I talked to Maya in my head. I told her. I know to the core of my soul that Dr. Angelou's book kept me alive. Reading about her courage, I knew that somewhere within me was the strength to survive. It has been many years since those events. I am an English teacher and am very happy with my life. I have read every book and poem published by Dr. Angelou. I have taught many of her works to my students. Her books and poems are words I cherish and ponder and meditate upon. Would you please tell her that Beth Alexander says, "Thank you for my life." Thank you, dear. Thank you, dear God. The truth is, you know me to be an inspiration. And look at you. You're a teacher. We have no idea. the range of your influence. Now, I had someone who went before me. I didn't make it up. Someone went before me, and it is my blessing to have Oprah as my own chosen daughter, friend, and who she influences, and who you influence, who you -- who knows? The thing is to be totally present all the time. Have the courage to have courage, and say it all the time, that life is fantastic, that it is the pits. Sometimes it's horrific. Or each time, you must keep pulling yourself up. Somebody's watching you. Somebody you don't even know. You have no idea who you will influence. It didn't occur to me. It didn't occur to me when I wrote "Caged Bird," that I would really, in time, have this particular kind of influence. Some of the books cost me so much. One in which I admitted that I had been a prostitute. All I knew is I had to tell the truth. I didn't have to tell everything I knew. But what I did tell had to be the truth. So, to tell the truth liberates. That's what it does. It reminds human beings, all of us, that human beings are more alike than we are unalike. Yes. And that's what it's like when you're a prostitute. When you're a prostitute, you have to tell the truth. That's what it's like when you're a prostitute. We--listen, we need new napkins and we haven't even had any soup yet. Coming up, we finally get some smothered chicken on our plates and we find out just how strong the heart of a woman is when you mess with somebody's son, especially Maya's son. Honey, please. As I said earlier, you can't leave Maya Angelou's home without feeling changed in some way. And I assure you that all of us who were there, camera crew, producers, everybody, left feeling better about themselves and their lives. I was hoping that this show would be able to affect you all who watch it as well. So let's get back to our dinner. Right. Clear? Let's hear what you have to say. Dear Oprah, for the past few years, I have been just a little too comfortable taking care of my vus. Washing, cooking, cleaning, and ironing his bed sheets and undershirt. Mm-mm, they don't even do that anymore. I've been trying to tell her that all day, but I have to find her something to do. I know, we do. Undershirt! You're ironing the undershirt? Oh, my. Or fresh sheets. There you go. However, after reading "Heart of a Woman," I am now fueled with the desire to slap myself into shape, to set my mind, to continue living my life to its fullest. Miss Angelou has never laid eyes on me nor I her, but she knows me. Every time she set pen to paper and thought to herself that her words would touch someone in a positive manner, she thought of me. And when she thought of at least one who might be helped by the truth she told of her life, she called my name out loud and told me that it would be all right. I may not be chosen to have dinner with Miss Angelou, and if I'm not, please tell her for me that I said thank you. I am so touched by you. I am touched by the graciousness of all of you. And when you say, you know, even if I'm not chosen, just say thank you, that is just the best. It's so wonderful. It's just the best. What is strengthening, heartening, is to hear a younger person, a woman, a man, white or black, to say thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Miss Angelou. There is nothing greater, nothing, nothing greater than to have somebody say thank you. You see, the statement is, I am a human being. Nothing human can be alien to me. It's most important. One of the most profound statements. And if I can say that, then someone hears it and says, you know, there's something that I must admit I understand. I comprehend. That's what the heart of a woman is. That's what it is. That's what it is. That's what it is. Don't you believe, though, that the heart of every woman, and man, too, for that matter. But the book is the heart of, that it really is the same. That's why I try to tell people, it doesn't matter how famous you become, that the heart of every woman is the desire for joy. That's right. That's right. And to be there. And to be there. And sometimes to be there is to be difficult. It's not just to be there to submit. At some point, to be there is to say, no, not me. You're here. Include me out. I'm totally here. Not. No. No. No. What part of no don't you understand? Hello. What part of no? Can we have some soup? Can we have some soup or anything? This is what you all-- besides being this extraordinary-- I mean, I've cooked all day long. She is the best cook in the world, honey. You're going to hurt yourself. When I'm cooking. When I start-- the moment I touch the food, I am in the food. And I think about the people who will eat it. And you can imagine what I thought about you all, never having seen your faces. Oh, we're honored. I wanted to make it so fine. Oh. Oh. Thank you. Well, you could have probably made, like, I don't know, bread and water or something. But still, it would have been so good. So fine. Let's talk about "The Heart of a Woman" and how-- one of my favorite passages is on page 83 when you're going to defend your son to the street gang. My favorite part of the whole book. Isn't that one of your favorite parts? Yes. Well, see, I've known Maya for-- I've known Maya for quite a while now. And I know that she is this woman. What rereading "Heart of a Woman" did to me is remind me that she's been that kind of woman for a long time. So, Jerry, I'm Miss Angelou. I'm Guy's mother. He closed his lips and smiled, died. I understand that you're the head of the savages and you have an arrangement with my son. I also understand that the police are afraid of you. Well, I came around to make you aware of something. If my son comes home with a black eye or a torn shirt, I won't call the police. His attention followed my hand to my purse. I will come over here and shoot Susie's grandmother first, then her mother, then I'll blow away that sweet little baby. You understand what I'm saying? It's a savage. It's so much as touch my son. I will then find your house and kill everything that moves, including the rats and cockroaches. And you meant it. Oh, absolutely. You can't say something like that and not mean it. People know when you're serious. Now, this is against everything I'm about. I am not anybody who knows me or my life. I don't want to-- kill or hurt or harm or threaten anybody. But I know this. People hear the truth of yourself. I don't care what your words are. This is the heart of a woman. A woman may say, hi, welcome home, but mean something else. If you listen, you will hear what she really means. And sometimes we forget that. We pretend we don't speak these different languages. A woman's heart is sometimes in contradiction to her speaking voice. You know, I think of the Covenant of Water as a spiritual revelation, a soulful, mystical experience from the first sentence to the very last. So I am here. I'm at Tea House right now with the author, Dr. Abraham Verghese. Hello and welcome. So let's talk about the book, the Covenant. First of all, I just love saying the Covenant of Water. One of our readers, Danielle, has a question. Let's hear it. Hi, I am Danielle Jennings. I have to say, I absolutely loved the book, the way it was written, the way the characters were described, the events, the spaces, everything. I loved it. My question is for Oprah. How and why did you select the book? Oh, well, Danielle, the how is I have a team, a very small team, usually one or two people who are reading lots of books and passing them on to me. And I had read many books were all stacked on my desk. And then I came across this book and I kept moving it from one side to the other and moving it to the floor, moving it to another room. And then finally, one day I just picked it up. And after the first sentence, I was drawn in. And here's the way I look at life. And I've felt this way since I was a little girl living in rural Mississippi, often not being able to be around a lot of people. But my grandmother and when people would come by when bring candy and sometimes my cousins would come in from the city, I would always hold my candy because I always thought it was better if I shared it. It was always going to taste better. I didn't want to have the Snickers bar or the Musketeers bar and eat it if I wasn't sharing it with someone else. And I feel that way about a great piece of writing. Like the moment I started reading this book, I then was looking for other people to share the experience with. And so one of the great rewards for me, Danielle, is being able to have so many of you now exposed to what I first received in an uncorrected proof manuscript. And I just love hearing all of your reactions to the book. You would have thought I wrote it or something. I don't have this gift, this talent. But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I wrote it. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. I'm glad I did. A great story told well, as this one has been, can affect and open you up. It delights me. It gives me great joy to be able to share it with other people. And so that's why. May I add something to the story of your book? Yeah, you may add. My previous book, Cutting for Stone, was set in Africa. It had a lot to do with women and festivities. So I prayed Oprah would pick that book. I lit candles. Oh, no. And so when I. No, you didn't tell me that. I did. Yeah, I didn't tell you that. You lit candles. I'm telling you now, I'm a big lighter of candles. If anybody calls me to say something serious is going on, I'm not being facetious. I say, I'm going to light a candle for you. I have a picture of it. I don't know what it means, but this is what I do. This is my way of participating with them in the worry that this news has triggered. But I lit a candle, hoping that Oprah would pick my book. Oh, my. And, you know, it didn't happen, which is. The odds are it doesn't happen, but I had hoped for it. And so when it happened with this book, and we finished our call, I got to my knees. Because it was a reminder that, you know, God's time is not my time or our time. So that candle worked, is what I'm trying to say. That candle did not go out. That candle never went out. That's so incredible you do that. I do that, too. Yeah. But it's a meaningful thing to do, isn't it? It's a meaningful thing. Yeah. What else can you do? You're far away. You get this news, you know. Let's talk about your creative process. You said that you used a whiteboard to map out the characters and the intricate plot. You shared a photo of it, and your drawings are. So you were an artist, too. Oh, I wouldn't say I'm an artist. I'm very visual. I think I think visually when I read the description. So how did seeing the story. How did the story visually help you to write it? It actually didn't help a great deal at all, you know. I think I was trying to save time and try to plot the outline, have the architecture of a house, essentially, is what I had in mind. So I would draw the characters' faces and, you know, since it's on a whiteboard with erasable stuff, I could keep fiddling with it, you know, with my fingers wiping it off till I. till what was in my head matched what was on the board. And then I would outline these seminal events that were going to happen. But the trouble is, as I started writing, you know, I think writing is mysterious. And as I started putting the characters under pressure, now there's a saying in writing that character is determined by decisions taken under pressure. So I'd put the character under pressure, and they would do something very different from what I had planned. And so suddenly the whiteboard was like, you stuck a swimming pool in the middle of where the dining room was supposed to be. So I'd have to go wipe it all off. I'd take a photograph first and then start all over again from this new branch point. Characters determined by decisions taken under pressure. I mean, that's the general writing maxim. That's not mine. I don't want to take credit for that. But yeah, think about it. That's life also, isn't it? Well, but I was going to say, that's life also. It's not just characters that you're building in a story, but it's also our own personal character is determined by decisions under pressure. Yeah. Marielle has a question. Marielle? Hi, I'm Marielle, and I found the title of the book to be extraordinary and brilliant. I'm curious if you think that the only true agreement that these characters and people have in their life is death, based off of all of the sudden loss that occurs in the book. Is that what you meant by the title? A lot of people have asked me that, which is so interesting, because the Covenant of Water comes up many times. Various characters talk about that covenant and about what water means. But I think some people are like, okay, so what is the covenant of water? Yeah, I've always felt that titles ought to be a little mysterious, that they're meant to be chewed on. And hopefully, as you go through the book, they begin to mean many, many different things for you. To me, the word covenant had a lot to do with the faithfulness of a matriarch and the family. Mm-hmm. The family and that sort of covenant. Water, because water was very much the metaphor of Kerala. But also, because this family- I now want to go to Kerala. I hope you do. I hope you do. And this family was plagued by their inability of some people in each generation to actually deal with water. So, in a strange way, their covenant with water was broken until the day they finally sort out the covenant. I have to say, you vividly transport us to so many other worldly places. First, a property called Parambil. You can almost, I mean, touch and smell and see everything about this mystical setting. You write about hospitals and you write about universities, a country club, a factory, a leper colony, an exquisite level of detail. Do you see them in your mind? Do you see all this in your mind when you're writing? Yes, I see them. And I'm also drawing on memories of visiting these actual places. Actual in the sense like not the Parambil, but places like Parambil, not the particular leprosarium, but I've certainly visited leprosariums. Hospitals are like my second home. So, evoking the images of hospitals in India, hospitals in elsewhere isn't that hard. And it's also, I like that sense of evoking place by going into the greatest detail about- Something that makes you see, smell, and feel it. It just doesn't come effortlessly. It takes a lot of revision to make it finally leap off the page. But place matters. And I spend a lot of time thinking of place as a character, because you are shaped by the place where you're born. Geography is destiny. My mom, single woman, Ansari, answers an ad to go to Africa to teach. As a result, she meets my father. I'm born in Africa. I leave that continent to come here and, you know, eventually here I am. I'm talking to you. I actually have a theory that the immigrant is given voice when they come to America, you know. Our experiences are often the ones before we got to America, but the voice comes out because this great land. My latest book club selection is Olive Again by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Stroud. Please welcome home, and to our book club, Pulitzer Prize winner, Elizabeth Stroud! Hey! Welcome home, you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Welcome home! Isn't it perfect that we're discussing- We're discussing your book, this book right here. Yeah, it's a little weird. It's a little weird. It feels a little weird. It's amazing. Amazing. Yeah. And the original Olive Kedridge was so profound and rewarding, but with Olive Again, you took us really even farther. And people are wondering, how did you do it? How did you know it was time for Olive Again? I didn't know. I had no idea. But she just showed up. And she showed up in this, you know, nosing her car into the place that- That you all just drove into, and- Well, explain that to normal people, what that means, because I know a lot of The authors, the characters, literally, you have a visitation with them. They show up. I do. I do. She just really, honestly, she appeared in my mind. I'm just trying to say that, you know, it was not a moment of psychosis or anything. I mean, in my imagination, she showed up. And I was literally checking my emails in a cafe, and I just, she just was there. That's all I can say. And it was so astonishing to me because I thought that I was done with her. Yeah. So it's so unexpected that a judgmental, middle-aged, seventh-grade math teacher in rural Maine has actually touched such a nerve literally around the world. Why do you think Olive still resonates, and what is it about her? You know, honestly, for a long time, I didn't really know. I just didn't, I couldn't understand her appeal in a certain way because I didn't know what she was doing. Yeah. I didn't know what she was doing, except to myself as I was writing her. But when I went out on the road with Olive Kittredge, the original one, the story where she steals her daughter-in-law's bra and takes one shoe, that, I cannot tell you how many women would lean down and say to me so confidentially, you must have a daughter-in-law. And I don't. And you don't. No. I don't even have a son. So, but what I understood from. That confidentiality was that these women were confessing to nobody. And that was why they liked Olive. Because people have these feelings, and they can't express them. And Olive expresses them. And I think a lot of people have an Olive in their life, or are Olive in their. A lot of people. How many of you have an Olive in your life somewhere? Yeah. I had to ask myself, do I have an Olive in my life, or am I Olive? Yeah. Sometimes I am. All of my daughters think. I'm Olive. Because I just say what I feel. Well, there you go. Let's talk about the book. How do you actually describe Olive again? Well, I think of Olive again as Olive Kittredge going through the latter time of her life. You know, the autumn of her life. And I feel that Olive Kittredge grows throughout this book. And I understood as I was putting the book together, because I don't write from beginning to end. And I don't. You know, I sort of form it as it comes. And then. But I understood as I was putting this book together that. I think there's a myth that we have that people reach a certain age, and that's it. They're just done. They're just sort of sitting there. But it's not true. That's what I realized. And even she says that. Yeah. She says that. You reach a certain age, and you become invisible. And you become invisible. Right. Yeah. And then I realized, but it's not true. Because everybody still has deep feelings. They still have. They still have. They still have. They still have. They still have deep desires for whatever may be in their life, or deep reactions. And they're. And all of this continuing to grow. So that was interesting to me. Yes. Chapter four, Motherless Child. She saw behind her closed eyes the house, and inside her was a shiver that went through her bones. The house where she had raised her son, never, ever realizing that she herself had been raising a motherless child. Now a long, long way from home. That phrase, motherless child, cuts pretty deep, right? Yeah. And that kind of self-awareness, actually. For the way she treated her husband. That's right. and son. Because she did treat Henry really badly. She treated him very badly. Yeah. And it's almost like she had to go through all the things she went through to reach the point of recognition in herself. Did it. She couldn't have done it any earlier. She couldn't have done it any earlier is what I mean. Did it surprise you as the story was unfolding how this showed up as her, you know, newfound love in a way of knowing that she could have loved better? Did it surprise you? It always surprises me when I'm writing something. If it doesn't surprise me, then it's not good and I throw it out. So, you know, I'm always surprised. I'm not surprised you won't be surprised. That's what I think. So, yes, I was surprised to realize, you know, those particular aspects. Those particular aspects of her relationship with Christopher and with herself, ultimately. So, Holly is here. Holly, where are you? I'm right here. Okay. Hi, Holly. Holly, you say that the passage really hit home with you because you also grew up as a motherless child. I grew up as a motherless child, but I had a mother. And my mother was not at all like Olive. My mother. And this is not to condemn her. My mother was very damaged. And she carried out that damage on her children, including myself. So, I was a motherless child. I was a motherless child because for years. I raised myself. I mean, she taught me, like, the very, very basics. But then that was it. I was off on my own. Didn't she actually tell you she didn't like you? Yes. Yeah. Yes. Multiple times. Up until a couple of years ago. And then I decided that was enough. Yeah. Yes. And so, when you read that chapter, you felt. I felt. I felt like I understood. I think that a lot of people. You know, when you hear motherhood, you know, everybody has motherhood on a pedestal. I know. And everyone who has a child must be a woman. And they must be a wonderful person. And they must love their children and express their love. And to read you, Ms. Straub, put that on paper, that that's not always the case. And some mothers make mistakes. And you figure out that, okay, number one, I'm not the only one. Yeah. Exactly. And number two, it's okay to have these feelings. Because, you know, at some point, you start to feel bad. Like, maybe there's something wrong with me. Of course you do. Yeah. Because my mother doesn't like me. Maybe I'm wrong. And she's this wonderful person. Right. And it took a long time to figure that out. Yes. It took quite a long time. So reading it and seeing it on paper, it's like, every time I do, I'm like, yes, this is me. This was my life. And this is my life going on because I don't speak to her. Wow. How old were you when you realized that your mother actually didn't like you? Because as a little kid, you would be trying and trying and trying and trying. A couple of years ago. Recently. So in my 40s. Wow. I finally figured it out because she said some things to me. And I was like. You know, she told me I embarrassed her. And that I wasn't as beautiful as some other women. And I'm. Oh. I'm sorry. And I said to myself, well, I embarrassed her, but I'm an attorney. I'm not as beautiful as other women, but I'm here and I'm doing whatever it is that I'm doing. It's time to stop. Yeah. You know, it's time to get out of that. Good for you. Good for you. Good for you. One of the reasons that I write is to try and help people understand that they're not alone in what they feel. Exactly. And that whatever they feel might have been felt and thought before. Right. So today I'm excited for my latest book club selection. I really am. I read a lot of manuscripts and I don't choose anything that I don't really like. But there are some things that I just feel resonate deeply inside that forever will be a part of my book language and vocabulary. And this book, Kin, by Tayari Jones, is one of them. Oh, one of my daughter girls, Tondo's here, a graduate of my school in South Africa. She reads every one of my book club, but picks. And I always just love Tondo's take. Your take on this one? First of all, I'm a huge fan of Miss Tayari. Since American Marriage, I've read the book 10 million times over, obsessed. I might be biased, but my next of kin picks some of the greatest books. I have. I have read and again, love the story about Chosen Family. I've been carried on the backs of Chosen Family my whole life. And so I have great admiration and respect for the idea that people can step in for us and become our family without the bond of blood. But one thing you do, and you did it in American Marriage as well, of course, the letters. And they feel like little memories that you almost want to take out the book and put back in their original envelopes with the torn kind of, you know. And I love the fact that you have us treasure those moments and they feel so personal. When you read each of those letters, it feels like it's coming directly to you. You almost turn each page excited to see, did Annie write? Did she write today? So, yeah, since we have you here, I would like to know what that structure looks like, the process of you choosing the letter writing and putting us in a memory, a box like that. Well, first, thank you for all of you for such careful and generous reading. Whenever you write a novel, you're asking so much of a reader for so much of their time. You know, we're all so busy and our attention is everywhere. So for someone to give you the gift of their time to read 300 pages, I would like to start by just saying thank you for giving me that chance. You know, I write letters. I'm a letter writer. And I remember. I meant that letter writing is, you know, we're losing it as a cultural form. I have all the letters. My grandfather lived eight miles from my grandmother. And just thinking these days when people didn't have cars, that was eight walking miles. And so he courted her by letter. And we have those. You know, we have that record. My mother has them in her jewelry box. It's about 50 letters. And I hate that we don't have that record anymore. So I think that's why the letter form. you know, comes back in my work. It's me trying to keep it alive. But also, what we share in writing is different than what we share in speaking. It's also different than what we text or email. There's a certain intentionality because you're putting it on the page for the record. And I was very interested in what these friends and some other characters, what they would say to each other on the record. I generally know what the book is about, but I don't know what the people are going to do. But this is a story of a female friendship. And I do believe that as a woman writer, at some point, female friendship, because it's such a part of the fabric of our lives, is a natural topic. Everybody here has a friend, right? Everyone has a friend. Even you non-females, too, right? They're friends since they were infants because neither of them has a mother. Although Niecy's mother is dead, Annie's mother has abandoned her. So Annie has hope that one day she'll see her mother again. Niecy knows. She'll never see her mother. So the question is really, is hope a double-edged sword? Because hope's twin is disappointment. And their lives, you know, their lives unfold. They take different forks in the road. One is able to pursue education. The other is living in Memphis, working in a bar, you know, shacking up with a piano player. But their hearts are still connected. They are still dearest friends. And it's really, I think, about also maintaining your friendships, despite the fact that your lives, your lives are different. Different lives don't mean that you necessarily have different hearts. And you cannot mistake your life for your heart. Those are different things. Wow. Why did you choose this time in American history? Because it's set in the 1950s, in the 1960s, the dialogue, the sights, the smells, all of it. Well, I was curious about growing up in the wake of the civil rights movement because my mother, when my mother was 15 years old, she participated. She participated in a sit-in movement in Oklahoma City. For two years, my mother, her sister, and some other children that went to their school, the whole summer, they sat in at a drug counter, drugstore counter. And during the school year, they did it on the weekends. And it was just a part of the fabric of their lives. Part of what I did in this book was really to try to get to know my own mother better by thinking about the circumstances under which she came of age. It helped me understand the way our lives are the same and the ways that our lives are different. Wow. And I love this, this, this page 11, just, it spoke to me so profoundly. "While I was tended to, I was never mothered. Still, the hole in my spirit made me into the girl I was and then the woman that I am. One day, I will grow a person within myself and love that little person so hard that it would bind her to me like rich dirt in the corner of a canvas satchel." And you're crying. Why are you crying? Because that was your line, too? Yeah. Yeah. We lost our mom when we were younger. It spoke to you, too. Yeah. Let's talk about it. Yeah. I can't believe how well and accurately you captured the experience of what it's like to be a girl without a mom. And every line, like that line, was like, "Yep, my reality. That's my reality. That's my reality." And so it didn't feel even. It didn't feel even sad. It felt normal reading it. Yeah. And. It felt normal and seen and heard, like someone else knows my story. Yes. Even to say that you accompanied these girls through the story was like, "Oh, like you accompanied me through. " Just the witnessing is so powerful. So one of the themes that really stood out to me is this tension between survival and belonging and how you have to sacrifice part of who you are in order to fit in, because it's not just a being seen and known kind of thing, but a "Am I going to be safe and cared for and protected?" type of thing. So what was it that you were hoping that people would take away from that tension of when do I sacrifice myself in order to fit in, or when do I protect myself in order to survive? Thank you, first off, for sharing your experience with us. I think that we believe that we have to sacrifice more than we actually have to sacrifice in order to fit in. You know, a lot of times I think that we capitulate in advance, like we anticipate that we will not be safe. Like, I think that Niecy doesn't believe she'll be safe in telling her truth, but she does not know that. Like, that is a risk. I think everyone should take the risk of the truth, because you may be accepted and you don't know it. Because you're afraid. And so that, to me, is what I—dignity is in the truth. And I think that that's the thing we have to—we think we can live without dignity. You know, we think, I'll do this to survive. Like, dignity is a luxury, but dignity is not a luxury. And you only get it by being your authentic self. I think that's one of the takeaways. And the other takeaway is I really hope that we can stop being so tied to the question of biology. The question of biology is— It's something that is decided for us before we're even born. Like, none of us chose our families. And we, as adults, we, as full human beings, should have the right to create a family that works for us. I'm not saying that your chosen family has to replace your family family. You can have both. But not to feel like this accident of birth is the determining factor in your life, that you can be loved by someone else. Even if it's not your biological mother, your biological father, someone else's love can be determined. It can be just as significant if you let it. Like, Annie is so committed to the idea of blood that she cannot experience the other love that's around her. And it was right there in front of her. It was right there. But her commitment to the— It's an idea. Like, they say, you know, you can— And then he eventually says he cannot be seen anymore because she's chasing the thing that's already there. Obsession is never a good idea. It's never. Yes. Yes. You've said that writing this novel, it gave you a deeper understanding of your own mother. Did it also give you a deeper understanding of yourself? Absolutely. Because I came to understand in writing about this previous generation just how their experiences were so different than our own. Like, there's some things that, you know, I kind of blamed my mom for, like, not understanding my life. And I realize now, how could she understand my life? She grew up in a different world. She was born in— In 1943. How is she meant— I mean, the nature of progress is such that we are each in our modern lives living unprecedented lives. And you cannot expect other people to imagine the nuances of our unprecedented lives. And that's what I really came to see, that people do the best they can with the experiences that they have. And you have to give them some grace and credit for how hard they try. Wow, that is such wisdom. And I love how you turn the phrase, like, on page 20, you say, my mother, rough as an emery board, looks like she was born to die. Yeah, poor Hattie. Yeah. How did you— I mean, so, as you're thinking of, my mother is rough, or my mother is, you know, challenged, or my mother— how does that come to you? Rough as an emery board? Some of them come to me right away, but other times, once I'm in the zone, like, when I'm in the zone of a book, if I touch something rough, I'll become more aware, that I, I'm like, that's rough. I should use that somewhere. Like, it, if I'm in the mode, I'm looking for, I'm looking for metaphors. I'm looking for symbols. But we also have metaphors and symbols, you know, all over our lives. But when I'm in the zone, I hear things everywhere. Like, I'll hear a song lyric, and it'll remind me of something in the book. Or, I also think of ways, how am I similar to my characters? I can never write about a character who has experienced any— the book is not autobiographical. None of my books are autobiographical, but I have experienced every emotion my characters have experienced. And I'm more aware of my emotions and how they feel and where they manifest in my body as I write. I love page 94. "Me and Niecy weren't sisters and nowhere near twins. I didn't have what she got, nor the other way round. What you have the same isn't what binds you. Hearts grow strings because of what you know that's the same. What happened to you, that's the same. And when what you want is the same." Yes, that's what you're saying. You've already experienced what these characters have experienced in one form or another. Yes, and even when they've done things that are shameful or embarrassing, I have to remember, and it also makes you humble in writing, because you are not some perfect figure moving the people around, making them do what you think they should, or punishing them for being naughty. You have to really think about the times when you were not in the writing. If you were not doing everything right, and how it felt to you, and that you're still a good person, then they too can be good people. They don't have to do everything right to be worthy of story. Brianna, where are you? Hello. Hi. Yeah, so I just wanted to say that this book felt tangible. I felt like I could touch it, I could hear it, I could taste it, I could smell it. It felt less like fiction, and more like a real account something that happened in the lives of my great grandma. mothers, my grandmothers, even my mother. And it really resonated with me, Annie and Vernice's predicament, because I also lost my mother as well. And even their friendship resonated with me because I had a classmate who also lost her mother and father that took me under her wing after she found out about my mother's passing and really helped me through. I identify with Vernice's desire to be like Mrs. McHenry and her desire to break barriers and create a different life for herself and her children and her children's children. And in doing that, sometimes you feel like you need to separate yourself from certain people or certain environments so that you don't get pulled back into a place that you're trying so hard to escape from. My question to you is, could Vernice possibly have set better boundaries? Was she supposed to? Would that have saved her and Annie in the long run? I think, first off, my condolences to you and your mama. Thank you. I just, I felt it when you said that. I think that, you have to set boundaries with people that are toxic. Annie is not toxic. She's poor. And you can't cut people off for being poor because they don't have the opportunities that you have. She's, Annie is a good friend to her and Annie needed her help. And you have to help those who need your help if they're your friends, if you're close. And part of reaching across these differences in their lives are remembering what this friendship means. I don't think she should have had, I think her mother-in-law who's saying, you know, you keep the people you used to know far away from you. And she tells her how she even pushed her sister away. I think that was a mistake. You know, if you have a good relationship with your sister, I don't want, I don't want a life that tells me I can't love the people I love. And I think that is the generational progress that I think that Vernice will make and that Mrs. McHenry is saying, you have to cut off your past. And I think Vernice says, or not. I'm not going to cut her off. I love her. And I think that's important that we have to figure out ways to integrate the people we love into the lives we want, or else you're choosing between who do you, who you love and your ambition. And you shouldn't have to, and you don't have to. You just have to be, I think you just have to be flexible and open. Well, Leslie and Dr. Kelly, thank you so much for that, for sharing that. Leslie and Dr. Kelly and our audience, they've been friends since they were four years old. Did I hear? Friends since four years old. Tell us your story. Stand up guys. Hi ladies. So yes, we have been friends since we were four and five years old. And our parents were members of a black social club, the consorts. Why dresses all the way down? And much like Niecy and Annie, we disconnected in our teenage years, but 25 years ago, we were reconnected when my aunt was battling pancreatic cancer and Kelly was on her rotation. So she walked in and she said, I'm going to tell you a story. And I said, I'm going to tell you a story. She walked us through the transition and we have been thick as thieves ever since sister friends reunited. Ever since. And we've gone the last 25 years, we've gone through the ups and downs, couple of marriages, couple of divorces and all the stuff in between. And one of the things that really resonated with me about Annie and Niecy's story is how childhood wounds can, you know, they can't help but to affect us in our lives. But sisterhood, can really heal us if we let it, you know. So we collaborated on this question. And, you know, when you think about how women sustain friendships over decades, right, over time and distance and failures and successes and loves, et cetera, what would you like for readers to take away? Yeah. What do you want all of us to take away from the relationship between Niecy and Annie? I think the main thing is to honor your relationships. Your friendships are as important as your romantic relationships. And they're as important as any other relationship in your life and also may last longer because they can start when you're. Absolutely. Right? Well, also they can get started early, earlier also. What you say, Gail? But this person who has seen you grow and there is more. More of an expectation of acceptance among friends. Like your friend is not going to get mad at you because you look different as you get older. You know, like that's just not how friendships work. There is a more of an expectation of an unconditional acceptance. Yes. And I think that's the thing, though, is to nurture your friendships and value your friends. So many people, you know, people like this throw their friends away when other circumstances in their lives change. Can't do it. And that your friends are your greatest friends. I think that's what I would take away. There's a beautiful passage about love that you write where you say, How long it take to write that sentence? Yet this is not the only type of love anymore. Then the camellia is the only flower. There is the love that. Blooms from decency and from that love, passion. I do believe that. I think that real. Again, this burning love that's like a, you know, a star hurled from the heavens, that's that imaginary person. That's that imaginary person. But real people can win you over in a lot of ways and we can be so married to this other script. Love that blooms from decency. Decency. And from that love, passion. Yes. And you can. Passion can develop. I think we think, oh, well. If you don't feel it, that first day is never going to be there or it's not there. But I think that Nisi, with her experience of loss, she is open to different types of love. She even says, I think of another character of Joette, that only she. That's privilege that makes you think you can only be happy if things work out exactly the way you wanted them to. But there's a range of happiness. And if you can accept that there's a range, there's a way higher chance that you'll find it. How does each. How does writing a book like this. Open up the aperture of your own life? What happens after you have finished this writing and you send it off to your publisher and you know that you are done? Do you feel more expanded in ways that you were before you wrote? I feel like every novel I've written has made me more understanding of other people because I have to walk in their shoes. I never write about any character that I dislike. I have to. It has to be something. It has to be something about them that I feel establishes their humanity and makes me understand that other person's point of view, even if I completely disagree with them. Like, it was difficult for me, you know, to write from the point of view of a madam in a whorehouse. Like, that was very difficult for me to write because I. But we ended up having compassion for her. Yes, we did end up having compassion for her. But we still had Babydoll pulling us, pulling our hymn saying, yeah, but don't forget what she does for a living. Yeah, yeah. So, but I was able to understand the way that she understood herself. I think that's the key. And I try. Ooh, that's so good. And I try to apply that to other people around me. I was able to understand the way she understood herself. Yeah. And that's the important thing. I imagine that the characters are reading the book. People say to me, what's, who's your audience? And the audience are the characters themselves. And I want each of them to feel like I did right by them. And you did. Oh, thank you. And you did. There's a running. There's a running theme throughout the book that women have to sacrifice in some way themselves in order to survive. What is your point of view on that? I mean, I do think that, I mean, sacrifice, that just sounds so like, I don't know, almost like, you know, like in those, like something someone's going to do in an altar. They're going to do like a sacrifice. But I do think you have to compromise. Give up some things. Yeah, you have to compromise. That's what I mean. But everyone, to be in a relationship is by its nature a compromise. The thing is that you have to be in a situation where you have to compromise. You have to be in a situation where everyone involved, everyone is compromising. The problem comes in when only one person is compromising. And perhaps that's when it becomes a sacrifice. But that's the thing. Like, Annie compromises to be in Niecy's wedding. And Niecy has to compromise to remain friends with Annie. Like, they have to give. You have to give. But as long as you get, it's okay to give. Very good. We had ourselves a Wally Palooza of a dinner. But first, here's author Wally Lamb talking about how he came up with this big idea behind I Know This Much Is True. I saw a guy behind the wheel of a pickup truck in the middle of the night. And I began to ask myself questions about it, play a little game. You know, who is this guy? And I thought to myself, I got to follow this guy off the edge of that cliff and see what happens. And that was the day that Dominic Birdsey sort of was born in my mind. And I sort of followed his story. I had no idea that I was going to write about identical twins. or mental illness, or Italian volcanoes in Sicily. All of that stuff kind of came in the process. So, unbelievable. Spent the summer opening letters. Somebody around here did. I actually really did not open them all, I can tell you that. I actually only opened two. I want to say we got 6,000 letters. I said that earlier, and I thank you all, all of you who wrote. And for the thousands more who stayed with us for all 897 pages, because you're now true readers, the letters were so extraordinary, it was almost impossible to choose only five. But here they are, along with part one of our dinner. Take a look. Our book club dinner started off with cocktails on a warm Chicago night. Isn't this delightful? Let's meet our guests. Well, you all know this man. Well, Wally Lamb, if it ain't you. Well, here we are. He's Wally Lamb, best-selling author of "She's Come Undone" and the summer chart buster, "I Know This Much Is True." Well, Wally, let's start with you telling us a little bit about yourself and why you wanted to be here. Wally is from Seattle, only 33 years old, a survivor of abuse, mental illness, alcoholism, to name just a few. From this, she's emerged a stronger person. When I read the book, it just touched so many areas of my life. Isn't it amazing how you can read a book like that, and then you get to sit down and talk to the author? That's great. That always just floors me. It's totally amazing. It floors me. Keith, why'd you want to be here? Keith is our youngest guest. He's 26 and a social worker from Virginia. He's dealt with mental illness on the job and at home. I looked at the book from a personal perspective with my mother, who currently is dealing with schizophrenia now. Monica is 30. She lives in L.A. Our book got her thinking about her past and her future, the family she left behind, and her new role. As a mother. And almost having to reckon with all this stuff that I had run away from was quite profound for me. Diana is a 45-year-old from Hatfield, Pennsylvania. Who wrote that it was killing you softly? That was you who wrote that? Yeah. It was a little painful, actually, to read some parts of that, especially Domenico's biography. And talk about taking a page from the book while Kathleen is 47 and a twin to a schizophrenic. For her, this book was more than a good read. It was a healing experience. So he saved me a trip to the shrink. Really? Thousands of dollars have been saved. Thank you. Thank you. Yeah. I can't wait to sit down and deal with you and find out how the story formed in your head and why you aren't schizophrenic yourself now. And maybe you really are. Well, we'll find out as the evening unfolds. Yes, maybe you really are. And now that you met our guest, you know what comes next. Come to Domenico. Come to dinner. First of all, I'd like to congratulate everybody who's read this book. You have been baptized in the reading club. This is the baptism. Nobody can say they're not a reader after you've read this book. That's the truth. And we get the promise. Yes, yes, yes. And you get the promise. That's true. Because I think it was intimidating for a lot of people, 897 pages. But as I promised, I don't lie. I'm never going to lie about a book. I can only tell you how I feel about it. And I just. I just felt I'd never read a book like this. And I've been reading since I could read, since I was a kid. Never read anything like it. It read like a motion picture because the images become so vivid in your head that you are living with the characters. Let's start with Dr. Bertel saying, I give you the Shiva. I give you Shiva, the dancing god, and hopes that you will soon be on your feet and dancing past your pain. Do you remember Shiva's message? With destruction comes renovation. Be well. Everybody open your boxes, will you? And inside, we have our own little Shiva. Oh, wow. Look at this. Oh, they're beautiful. Beautiful. Wally, what is a Shiva? Shiva is the god, goddess, sort of genderless, from which all things come. Well, what she says is with destruction comes renovation. Be well. So I'd like to talk for a minute. At the table about your own sense of feeling destruction and renovation. Anybody want to comment on that? That was the main theme. For me, in my life, I've been in therapy for a long time. I've put a lot of therapist children through college. But when I found the most success is when I could face my fear. When I was willing to let go of, The way it was, look at the way it really is, and then be open to what it could be. It only came after I was willing to look at my past, face my fears, rip it apart, and build it back up again. There's a scene late in the novel where Dominic, who has grown up in this duplex house, makes a decision as the house is evolving into something else to break down the middle wall of the house. And I think, I think, you know, so there's the destruction that comes with renovation on a, in a, in a very physical way. But I think that that business of breaking down all those barriers and all those defenses that we build up over the years and get very good at building up a wall. Yeah, I think that the disassembling of, of those kinds of things is what in some ways sets us free. Well, it, for me, it was, it got to a point where, where either I was going to choose to tear down in my head what I consider to be first floor of a house, just tear it and rip it to pieces, either on my own or have someone or something come in and wipe it out for me. Yeah. And it became a matter of choice. You know what I wanted to ask you, Ellie, I wanted to know where you got your insight about being twins. Because I, I mean, I could swear you had a twin when you said that. I wanted a twin when I was a kid. Oh, I think I did. I think everybody does. Yeah, I was fascinated with twins. I mean, wouldn't it be fun? I didn't want one. And it's worse, I didn't get one. I mean, you want one, and I didn't get one. You didn't get one. I never had that. I never had that. Yeah. I've heard, and I've, I've done a lot of research on, on twinships, and I've heard that there are certain twins who feel like they're only whole if they're with their twin. See, it was a scary part in the book when you talked about being untwinned, because I had never crossed my mind before. It just never crossed my mind. It never crossed my mind. And I thought, well, if I, if anything ever happened to my sister, I would not have a twin, and I also would not be a twin, you know, but I had never thought about it until I read it like that. Favorite passages in the book? I know you all have them. Diana, your favorite passage? Well, I have many, but I, I feel like I want to skip to my absolute favorite, which really is the end. Is that okay to do? Yeah, you can. That's fine, too. I am not a smart man, particularly, but one day, at long last, I stumbled from the dark woods of my own, my family's, and my country's past, holding in my hands these truths, that love grows from the rich loam of forgiveness, that mongrels make good dogs, that the evidence of God exists in the roundness of things, this much at least I figured out, I know this much is true. And that, you know, just says it all. You know, that sentence, mongrels make good, good dogs, like, it stunned me, because I'm biracial, and my son can pass for white, sort of ethnic white, Greek, maybe. And you always read these stories where being multiracial is tragic, you know, it's sad, you're trapped between two worlds, when my husband and I got married, you know, it's like, what about the children? And to read a story in which multiple heritages can empower you, it could be something to draw on. To draw from, and learn from, you know, I mean, it's not the tragic mulatto, he's not caught between two worlds. My favorite passage is page 610. Life is a river, she repeated. Only in the most literal sense are we born on the day we leave our mother's womb. In the larger, truer sense, we are born of the past, connected to its fluidity, both genetically and experientially. So this is my opinion, my friend. Should you throw your ancestry into the wood stove? Of course not. Should you keep reading it, even if it takes away your sleep? Yes, by all means. Read your grandfather's story, Dominic. Jump into the river, and if it upsets you, come in and tell me why. That was beautiful. Woo! Dr. Patel, thank you so much. Wow, where did that come from? Well, it came partly from myth, and how the past informs the present. Yeah, I who just completed Beloved. I mean, that's what I used, used the past to create that character, use that past to move forward and feel, as a part of that experience, connecting to the past, that I am so much stronger and transformed by the connection. Yeah. Yeah, that's why I was like, "Go, Wally!" It's interesting to me, and kind of sad, that in America, you know, somebody turns 30, and we give that person black balloons, and somebody turns 40, and we, and it's sort of like this, kind of like this mockery. Yeah. And it's like, "Oh, I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person." Yeah. And it's like, "Oh, I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person." Yeah. And it's like, "Oh, I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person, and I'm gonna be a black person." I really love having having come to middle age because a lot of things that I didn't understand and struggled with. I love it. I just don't like calling it middle age. I really do. You know why? I don't. I'd like to come up with another term. You can't do that for us, Wally, because middle age is what our parents were when they were this age. I wouldn't trade this age for anything. Well, let's maybe call it the age of perspective then or something like that. Take a moment to taste this tiramisu. It is about the best. Just take a moment. Let's all together take a bite of Nick Salino's. Nick Salino's Cucina Amores Tiramisu. Oh, baby, baby. We have arrived. Oh, hey, bravo. There's Nick Salino. This is tiramisu that could really medicate us and put us under. We thank you so much for the entire meal. Did somebody tell you this was my favorite meal? Is that why we're eating this? No, this is actually my specialty. I believe to be the best tiramisu maker in the world, which I take great pride in. And the fact that you like it as much as I do is a great thing. But the whole dinner, like the pastas, beginning with the artichoke and the scallop. There's a reason for it, actually. Why? Twenty-five years ago, my father said goodbye to me at the airport. He told me, "Nicolino, ricorda, l'America è un sogno," which translated in English means, "Nick, remember that America is a dream." And one of my dreams has always been to actually cook for you. Really? And the one occasion that I've been given, I wanted to make absolutely sure there was an unforgettable dinner, not only for me to have had the honor, but for you to remember for a long time. Mr. Lamba, I had the opportunity to read your book, and I only hope that the passion of my food matched the emotions that you made me feel to your writing. Oh, thank you so much, Nick. Thank you. It's so moving. That's brilliant. Ooh, we have some gifts for everybody. Thank you so much, Nick Zulino. Thank you, Nick Zulino. Thank you. I'm always the first to open presents like I never get any. Wow! Look what it is! Oh, my goodness. That is gorgeous. Wow. Outstanding. That is gorgeous. Oh, my God, it's beautiful. Thank you so much. That's gorgeous, guys. My nice book. Yes. Wally says in my book that he signed to me, "Thank you with all my heart for connecting me to a readership far beyond my imagination, and you know about my imagination." That's great. I know, because it's like -- and I know for you, Wally, who is one of the most humble spirits I've ever met in a human body, that it's not about making money. It is. I know, because, you know, he still lives the same as he did when the first time we went to his house and he was putting the clothes in the laundry, separating the darks from the lights, but about -- I know, because, you know, he still lives the same as he did when the first time we went to his house and he was putting the clothes in the laundry, separating the darks from the lights, but about expanding the word. Right. Yeah. Right. Allowing more people to have the words. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. That says it. That says it better than I can say it. Thank you. I don't think so. Well, I would like to make a toast to Wally. Wally, you just outdid yourself. It's a Wally Palooza of a book. with a number of people who have been through this, who have been through opioid addiction and are coming out the other side with recovery. Just listen to their stories, which broke my heart. And every one of them, I just need to say this, every one of them started with a prescription from a doctor and instructions to say, take these pills, set your alarm clock, stay ahead of the pain, do it exactly as I'm telling you, because that's what the drug company said. And they promised it was not addictive. That's how it happens through what a sports injury has happened with demon or a work injury. And that's where the character of Aunt June comes in because she feels hoodwinked because she, like all the other doctors around were, were, were given false information. They were presented with false studies from the, from, from Purdue Pharma that said, we, this is absolutely not addictive. And so Aunt June is, is, she's the, the nurse practitioner who's caught in the middle, who understands, who's first to understand when these patients are coming back and getting angry because they're saying, I'm sick, I'm still sick. I need more of these pills. And she, she's the one to see what's going on. And this is how it actually happened. Okay. Before you meet Cormac McCarthy, I want to share a little bit about his masterpiece, The Road. For those of you who read it, you know what a masterpiece it is. It's a story of survival that takes place in a post-apocalyptic America. Imagine that. Well, I couldn't. That's why I chose the book. When you started The Road, did you know where it was going to end or did it end itself? No, I had no idea where it was going. Where did this apocalyptic dream come from? Well, it's interesting because usually you don't know where a book comes from. You just, it just, it's just there. Some, some kind of an itch that you can't quite scratch. My son, John, about four years ago, he and I, I went to El Paso. He's eight now. Yeah. And we checked into the old hotel there. And one night, John was asleep. It was night. It was probably about two or three o'clock in the morning. And I went over and I just stood and looked out the window at this town. It was nothing moving, but I could hear the trains going through in that very, very lonesome sound. I just had this image of what this town might look like in 50 or a hundred years. I just had this image of these fires up on the hill and everything being laid waste. And I thought a lot about my little boy. And so I wrote those pages and that was the end of it. And then about four years later, I was in Ireland and I woke up one morning and I realized that it wasn't two pages of another book. It was a book and it was about that man and that little boy. The road is dedicated to Cormac's eight-year-old son, John Francis. Is this a love story to your son? In a way, I suppose it is. It's kind of embarrassing. I suppose it is. I just saw you blush. Yeah. But no, it couldn't have been when I called you at first. You said, when I said people want to know where this book came from, you said, well, it's obvious. It came because my son practically co-wrote this book. Had you not had this son at this time, this book wouldn't have been written. No, absolutely not. Never would have occurred to me to try to write a book about a father and a son. What is it like being a father? At this particular time in your life, how is it different than? I think you, I think you appreciate it more. Yeah. If you're young and have a child, it's, you know, so you got a kid, you know, but to have a child when you're, you know, when you're older is, it, it, it wrenches you up out of your, out of your nap and makes you look at things, you know, afresh. It, uh, it forces the world on you. Yeah. And I think it's a good thing. Are we to ever know what actually happened? All kinds of critics and, you know, fans of yours read all kinds of things into it. Some people say it's about the journey of man on earth. It's about a man's, you know, spiritual journey here on earth. Is that true? Or is it just about the man and the boy on the road? I will. I like to think it's just about the boy and the man on the road, but obviously you can, you can draw, you know, conclusions about all sorts of things from, from reading the book, um, depending on your taste. It's, it's a pretty simple, straightforward story, I think. You know, it's so interesting. I think if we had read this book 25 years ago, 20 years ago, it would have seemed futuristic, but something about it feels ominous to me. You know, I think it is maybe since 9-11 people, uh, people are more, more concerned about, uh, apocalyptic issues. We're not used to it. I was going to say, we're not accustomed to it. We're not used to that. Not accustomed to living in fear, being anxious about what's going to happen tomorrow. Yeah, we've had it pretty good. You know, we, this country has been very lucky, just like me. So, you know, that now people are, it's on people's minds. Obviously it was on your mind. Yeah. What do you want us to get from this book in particular? Could be just simply care about, about things and people and, and be more appreciative. Life is pretty damn good, even, even when it looks bad. And, uh, we should appreciate it more. We should be grateful. I don't know who to be grateful to, but you should be thankful for what you have. You haven't worked out the God thing or not yet? Well, it would depend on what day you ask me. But, um, but sometimes, sometimes it's good to pray. I don't think you have to have a clear idea of who or what God is in order to pray. You can, you could even be quite doubtful about the whole business. Do you care if now millions of people are reading your books versus when there were only a few thousand reading your books in the early years? You know, I, in all honesty, I have to say that I really don't. I just don't. I mean, you want, you would like for the people that, that would appreciate the book to read it. But as far as many, many people reading it at, so what? I mean, what does, what? It's okay. There's nothing wrong with it. It's not, it's not going to particularly brighten my day. Well, you are a different kind of author, let me tell you. It's such a pleasure to meet you. Well, thank you. You're very nice. Really an honor. You are a different kind of author. That's good. Read it if you want to, you know, it's okay. That's great. First of all, just let me say, congratulations because this book took my breath away. Oh, thank you so much. Yeah. When you started with the premise, where did the idea come from? The Underground Railroad? It was about 16 years ago. And I think a lot of people, when they're kids, they hear about the Underground Railroad. Right. And think it's an actual subway, you know, for a few minutes. And then they're sadly disillusioned of that. And so about 16 years ago, I thought, what if the Underground Railroad actually was a literal underground network? And I started thinking about some more. And then I thought, what if, as our hero travels north, every state he goes through, and he was he at that point, each different state, North Carolina, South Carolina, was a different state of American possibility. And so each time she gets off at a station and comes up from underground, she finds a different alternative America, slightly tweaked, but different sort of state of possibility. And that first time she comes up, which I've often thought about this since Beloved, you know, Toni Morrison's. And yeah, I, that line where you got to get out of the yard, you got to leave the yard in her book, when she's speaking of the character Denver, I often thought about the slaves who never left the yard. And then suddenly, after thinking about it for a long time, planning the escape, make the decision, and you've never been any further. You've never been any further than the front yard. It's just the most incredible thing. Yeah, you've never stepped off the property, and. You never knew a world bigger than the front yard. All you've known is the tragedy of the plantation. Yes. And what kind of, how do you get the courage to make that first step? Yes. And then once you do, and you're off across the boundary line, how do you keep going? And so you're waiting for years, you're waiting for the full moon, then you finally make that leap. You know, I remember when I was promoting the movie Beloved, I was being interviewed by a group of African-American journalists who actually said to me, why do we need another story about slavery? Why do we need another story about slavery? I go, how many have you seen? Because we don't know. Nobody knows. You know, I feel I'm reasonably educated. You know, my first experience with understanding slavery was when I was seven and Roots was on, and my parents, you know, gathered us, all our kids in front of the TV. This is how we got here. This is what, you know, your ancestors encountered. And in college, you know, study American history, small section on slavery. And I think coming to the material as an adult, as a grownup, definitely changed the way I approached it. I think it's one thing to understand it when you're seven, in your twenties, to understand the aftereffects of slavery, which, you know, reverberate in most segments of society now. But then to understand it as an adult, as an adult, as an adult. To understand what it is to lose a parent, a child. You know, I have children now. To never have the stability of knowing. This is what I say to people, never have this ability of knowing that your child really is yours and that your family can be together as long as, you know, God has designed it, you know, or the world has designed it. Because you can come back from a cotton field and your children are gone, your husband's gone, your mother's gone, you are gone. Yes, your property and your children are property. You're a property. And you've been bought because you can actually make more slaves, like a, you know, like a mint making money. Did you feel in yourself the spirit of, there's a wonderful line that Maya Angelou wrote in one of her poems, I think it's Poem to Our Grandmothers, where she says, I come as one and I stand as 10,000. Could you feel in some way the spiritual presence of generations who paved the way as you wrote this book? I feel, I think Cora does. I mean, you know, I'm trying to, trying to find a language of hope for somebody who's completely hopeless. And I think. When she gets to the library and she's on a plantation, a farm, and the person she's staying with has a great library of all the black poets, black thinkers, Benjamin Banneker, the black almanac maker, his books are in there. And she's inspired, but she had no idea that there's any sort of history outside of the degradation of slavery. And so we create moments like that where she's gone through hundreds of pages. Of trials and is learning and figuring out who she is to get to moments where, like that, where she's in the library and sees that she's part of a great lineage and part of the future as well. I mean, people she touched, you know, the children that she helps out and helps along the way are the next generation of survivors and people who will carry on, carry on the battle. When I read The Sweetness of Water. The first thing I do is I go, I look at the author to see who is writing. And there you are. Nice man. Okay, next time I'd say smile a little bit, will you? Okay. Big bit. But I go to see the author and, you know, where these words are coming from. And then I looked you up and saw that, you know, you were just this beautiful young man who is writing your first novel. And I just couldn't even believe what I was reading. You know, and I kept going back and looking at the picture, looking at the picture and then referencing that. So it's called The Sweetness of Water, and it's set in a fictional town of old Ox, Georgia, in 1865, when in the days and months immediately following the Emancipation Proclamation and the end of the Civil War. And what what I marveled at is the fact that I've read many books on Reconstruction. But I never. Never thought about those first few days and weeks after the Civil War. And I certainly wouldn't imagine a young 27-year-old at the time you started writing this thinking about those days. So how did this story come about for you? God, I love books about the Civil War and Reconstruction. But I think if you're going to write a novel, you have to have a new angle. You have to bring readers something they haven't experienced before. And for me, I'm just I'm always curious. And I was reading about slaves just being freed and what they were going through in that initial moment of freedom. And I was wondering, gosh, why haven't I read that before in a novel and then it struck me, why don't you do it? And I was immediately like, I can't do that. Of course, I can't do that because I'm 20 a lot the time, 27, you know, but then I was like, well, what am I doing here if I want to write a book? Let's just do it. Had you thought of writing any kind of book before? Oh, sure. I mean, that was it was always my wish. It was always the dream to write a novel. You know, I love books. So were you great in English class? Did you love words? Did you were you writing little stories as a little boy? Yeah, that was exactly right. I mean, I still remember being in, I think, second or third grade. And we all got to write these little picture books and then we would all read each other. And there was a long line to read mine. And I thought there was a long line. There was a line. Yeah, it was kind of like a little horror story. And everybody was kind of like, it's kind of scary. And they're just seeing everybody engaging with it. OK, you were throwing down in the second grade. Yeah, exactly. Everybody wants to read stories in the second grade. And it was all I could do. I mean, it's hard growing up when you can't do you can't do math. You know, science is the sciences. And then I found out that writing just came naturally to me. And I just loved stories. Yeah, it feels like it. You know why it feels like it from sentences like I love this. I mean, the poetry of it, the lilies upon the water unified like a carefully drawn illustration. The water reflecting his image made beautiful, if only by the beauty that surrounded him. He loved the silence. So totally encompassing that his thoughts arrived as if he were speaking the sentences full and alive. The sort of preacher might thunder to an audience who would respond with whoops and wild amens. Here, things were different for the sliver of time he was allowed. The pond was his. You put us right there. Yeah. To the point where we could feel the sweetness. The sweetness of the water. Okay, so how long does it take you to come up with sentences like that? I mean, was that a day's work, multiple days work? Yeah, I mean, it can be something where I can imagine the scene, but then it'll be weeks or months later where those are the moments of almost poetry where a line will just come to me. And I can just, I go immediately back. I'm transported back to that moment. It's like, I'm in the book, and I run to my computer or I run to my phone to put it in, and I know it has to go there, and it just strikes me. Okay, so you were interested in the Civil War as a young man, and how did the characters start to form? First of all, their names, Landry and Prentiss. Did you do research for that time period to discover, you know, what people would be called or what their names would have been? Yeah. Enslaved. I don't know how I struck on those two, but the bills of sale for slaves were, even just reading the names on there, you can almost feel the energy from it in a way, and you're kind of transported back to that time period. You're talking to the choir. You know I have them all in my library. I do. And actually, when I was filming the movie Beloved, I took them with me to my trailer so that in the morning, I would receive them. I would recite their names. Yeah, wow. To put me in the spirit. That's remarkable. Yeah. So I just had, I had that exact same experience, and again, reading the oral histories that have been put down when they talk to these freed people, you can hear it in the dialect, they record the dialect of how they were talking, and that's how they explain that moment. It's so authentic, more authentic even than I could ever, you know, even with the poetics. Yes. And I think what you're talking about is more resonant, and I was just inspired by it, and I just felt like I needed or wanted to use my imagination to build on that in a way that justified what they had gone through. No, and I think you captured it so beautifully in this sentence on page 24 when you're talking about emancipation. "The notion of true emancipation had always seemed so fantastical that were it to occur, Prentiss had expected the hell out of me." And I thought, wow, of course, if you have all these years been thinking about what freedom looks like, if you were ever emancipated, if there's even a possibility of emancipation, there's a possibility of emancipation. Yes. And I thought, wow, of course, if you have all these years been thinking about what freedom looks like, if you were ever emancipated, if there's even a possibility of emancipation, there's a possibility of emancipation. Exactly. And I think that's what I was trying to say. know people in a way that you wouldn't have even if you don't have those people in your life. Why was empathy important for you? God, I think I'm right with you. I think empathy is the reason we read. To put yourself in the shoes of a person who doesn't look like you or, again, is from a different class than you or even people who are doing evil things, there's a reason they're doing evil things. And we need to investigate that. I tried to show sides to even the villainous characters that we could almost relate to. And I think that's necessary so we can, I don't know, come to learn more about our common people, the people who are around us in our community. And that's necessary for us to grow as people. Guess who's coming to dinner? Sidney Poitier. This is a book that I have loved for a very long time. It's a spiritual autobiography, and it's called The Measure of a Man. In all, seven special readers would join Sidney Poitier for our dinner of a lifetime. What do you think, Mr. Poitier, that all of us are gathered around this table here in the year 2007 to talk about a book that you wrote several years ago and also a book that really is an extension of the first book, This Life, that you wrote, I don't know, in the 60s. What do you think of that? Well, it would be the sixth time I have pinched myself because of this gathering. I am greatly honored by it. I am greatly honored by your presence, and I'm looking forward to the exchange. It isn't just the dinner that brought me here. I've heard about you people, and I find what I know of you to be very impressive. And I thank you for coming. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Out of nowhere, serendipity dips down and kisses us on a cheek, and wonderful things happen to us. And these forces are influential in our lives. They help to mold us and to shape us. I believe that we have free will. I believe, too, that free will operates within this frame of nature and God, if you will. But we have responsibilities. It is not that we can sit back. Tell this group what you were telling me. You were saying that even now you still see things through the eyes of your mother. Yes, I do. The whole experience that my mom had with the soothsayer. Yes. Tell us that. Tell you that. Read the book. Well, she was, as you know, I was born prematurely. Bye. More than two months. And I was less than three pounds. There were no doctors. There were midwives in those days for us. It didn't look good, obviously, for me. But by the end of the following day, there seemed to be absolutely no hope. So she stopped at this soothsayer. They sat down. And the soothsayer was in some kind of trance. And she stayed in it forever. For a while. And when her eyes flew open, she said some things to my mother. She said, don't worry about your son. He will grow up to travel to most of the corners of the earth. He will walk with kings. Your name will be carried all over the world. For 50 cents, my mother found the support she needed for backing a long shot. So here your mother. Your mother was this poor, you know, wife of a tomato farmer on Cat Island. And she told her that you would see the world and that you would walk with kings. Come on, say it. Walk with kings, says the soothsayer. I'd like to get her in here today. I have to assume, at least I had to assume, that I am left with the responsibility to effectuate my own survival. I was lucky, though. Two, you know. Lucky. I think that there are things way beyond our understanding. Yes. Do you think that that force was working with you when you first moved to New York City? Arriving in the city, not even having, you know, adequate clothing and it turns cold and you're in New York City sleeping on the rooftops with not even a coat? I don't think that we make many moves without the force knowing about it. Yeah. Yeah. If you call it God or not. We still have responsibilities. Isn't it amazing, astounding that he was just this boy alone, basically? Boy. He was a boy. Mm-hmm. Alone, moving, you know, on the train, arriving in New York City, trying to figure it out. Right. And in figuring it out, you came to this profound idea. Right. This profound theory of life that you are responsible for you. Right. And I think you ultimately paid it forward by showing. You know, showing black people what was possible. Mm-hmm. You know, the importance of speaking well and. That question bothers me a lot. The question of. Education. We are too rich a country to have inner city education what it is. Mm-hmm. It is each family, I believe, who has. Who has. The responsibility to educate their children. Mm-hmm. No matter what their own education is. Right. It's interesting because I work with inner city kids and what we're so brilliant about, when I introduced the book to them, they said, "Wow, I didn't know Sidney Poitier could barely read in the beginning," and that registered, they could connect with us because they can really. Because Sidney Poitier and so many others now stand for what is possible. Exactly. Yeah. I'd like to make a toast. I'd like to make a toast to the forces. Yeah. I'd like to thank the forces, whatever you choose to call the forces, that allowed me to, at 10 years old, the forces that put me in front of my Magnavox black and white television set to see Sidney Poitier receive the Academy Award and planted that seed. That moment that I saw you, I've told this story many times before, but it is true. The moment that I saw him accept the award for Lilies of the Field, it said to me that, "This is possible because what your life has meant to all of us says that your love, your sense of honor, your sense of integrity, it is possible for all of us." And so here's to you, and here's to your beautiful book, Measure of a Man. Here. Here's to you, who have loved my entire life, and even before I was born. Oh my goodness. Sidney Poitier. Salute. Salute. Salute. Salute. Salute. but this time it means you just are notified when there's something new. There are many more to come that we're excited about, so thank you for watching and listening.