Archive for The Fall

FAN MAIL WEDNESDAY #349: “It Was Interesting, Reading a Book Where the Protagonist Sucks”

All fan mail is wonderful. A connection, a gift. I’m grateful for every letter I’ve received over the past decades. But sometimes a particular one comes out of the blue and takes my breath away.
And, oh yeah, I loved this line, “It was interesting, reading a book where the protagonist sucks.”
Meet Veronica.

Good evening,

For my English class, I had to watch a Ted Talk where this guy went around thanking everyone responsible for his coffee. He thanked the barista, he thanked the men who grew the coffee, he thanked the woman who conducted the pest control where the coffee was stored. He wanted to recognize the thousands of people who put in the work to make something as simple as a cup of coffee. His story inspired me to write this email, to thank you for writing the Fall.
I know that it was written over a decade ago, and that you’ve written much since. But, while at the library, I picked up your book. I read the back cover, which intrigued me, and brought it home. 
It was interesting, reading a book where the protagonist sucks. I don’t see it very often. I’ve heard that writers are encouraged to make their characters likeable and someone the readers would like to relate to. After I learned that Sam had a kind of friendship with Morgan, I almost put the book down. I couldn’t bear to continue. How dare he play such a role in the harassment when he could see what it did. 
At the end, I was in tears. It’s a rare thing. The worst part was that Sam sees his wrongs after it is too late. No matter what he does, who he apologizes to, Morgan will never hear it. It’s heartbreaking. I’m worried I will make the same mistake.
What I’m trying to say, Mr. Preller, is that your book moved me. It made me feel something. I wanted to read it again. And for that I want to thank you. I thank you for writing, in my opinion, a great book.
You should be proud of your work.
Veronica
I replied . . . 
Veronica,
My goodness, what a letter.
What a gift.
You are a special human being. Not just that you read my book, or even that you felt it, but that in an act of pure kindness, you wrote to say so out of the goodness of your heart. Amazing, really.
Today I’ll walk around with thoughts of you in my mind, inspired to be a little better, a little more grateful to one and all.
I’ve mentioned it before on this blog, but the Irish have an expression, “Flowers for the living.” That we don’t have to wait for someone to die before we say something nice about them. I do try to keep that in mind. And now, thanks to you, even moreso.
Thanks for the flowers.
As for my unlikeable protagonist, Sam, I wrote from that perspective a few years after writing a book titled, Bystander. In that book, there’s a bully and, weirdly, I found myself feeling sympathy for him. That book is not told from the bully’s perspective. At that time, there was a lot of anti-bullying sentiment out there, appropriately so. But here’s the thing: Bullying is a verb, an act, not a noun. I don’t really believe in “the bully,” strictly speaking. Walt Whitman’s, “I am large, I contain multitudes.” The so-called bully might be a gifted athlete, kind to his grandmother, sweet with animals, a musician, funny and charismatic, etc. But in this one area, he is making some poor decisions. Not to gloss over the very real damage that he might cause. We are each responsible for our actions. But no one should be defined by the worst thing they’ve ever done. 
I wanted that complexity to show in Sam’s character, even though that’s uncomfortable and even confusing at times. 
Have a great summer, and feel free to write again if you wish.
My best,
James Preller
P.S.  Check out the Japanese cover!

This is the beautiful, haunting cover of the Japanese translation of my book, THE FALL. I love it so, so much.

REPOST: Current Events Force Me to Remember Another Teen Suicide and the Book I Wrote About It

Eight years ago, I published an upper midde-grade/YA titled The Fall. It was inspired on the day I read about the suicide of a 12-year-old girl, Rebecca Ann Sedwick, who was “terrorized on social media.” 

My book is written from the point of view of a boy, Sam, who had participated in some of that online bullying. Across time, he writes in his journal: remembering, recounting, reflecting, and ultimately owning it. 

The book begins: “Two weeks before Morgan Mallen threw herself off the water tower, I might have typed a message on her social medial page that said, “Just die! Die! Die! No one cares about you anyway!”

It’s a story that has generated a lot of powerful letters from students, usually in 8th grade; if you are interested in investigating a few of those letters, just click on “The Fall” under categories on the right sidebar and scroll. 

I re-share this post because nearly a week has passed since we learned about yet another horrific teen suicide, a 14-year-old girl named Adriana Kuch. 

The reasons for suicide are complex and ultimately unknowable. But so much comes back to how we treat each other. Our sense of compassion and empathy, which is a social skill that can be cultivated. Reading helps. Literature helps. 

I see much of the world’s cruelty as a direct result of a failure of the imagination. A failure to recognize the humanity in others. 

We must do better. 

This morning in February 2023 I am conflicted about sharing this blog post. But I do know that my book has helped some readers in the past. Perhaps it can help someone again. This all makes me so sorry and so sad.

 

Previously Posted . . . 

It began almost twenty-five years ago when I first started writing the Jigsaw Jones Mystery Series. I’d drop quick references to actual books that my characters were reading. Bunnicula, Shiloh, Nate the Great, and so on. Sometimes I’d do more with it, as in The Great Sled Race, where Jigsaw’s class is reading Stone Fox by John Reynolds Gardiner. In another example, The Case of the Buried Treasure, the students in room 201 had to do a “story maps” assignment based on Wolf in the Snow, the 2018 Caldecott Medal Winner by Matthew Cordell. This strategy was a nod of appreciation and a  way to connect the real world with Jigsaw’s fictional world. Maybe a reader would think, Hey, I read that book, too

I carried on that tradition over to longer works for middle-grade readers and beyond. It wasn’t a plan, exactly, it just sort of happened. In some ways, it poses a good question for a writer to ask of any character: What book would this person love? In Blood Mountain, there’s a former marine with PTSD. He’s living off the grid in the mountains. The dog-eared book he carries around is Lau Tsu’s Tao Te Ching. The fact of that book served as an entrance point into the struggles and mindset of the character.

For The Fall, I used Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. There was a time in our world when seemingly everyone read that book — I remember grabbing it off an older sister’s bookshelf. I decided to make The Bell Jar an important book for Morgan Mallen. It was fascinating for me to read it again through the eyes of that character. After Morgan’s death, by suicide, the book finds its way to The Fall’s narrator, Sam.

Here’s one passage where Plath’s book comes into play:

Morgan had marked up The Bell Jar here and there, little checkmarks and passages underlined.

The evocative, transcendent cover of the Japanese translation of THE FALL.

I never found my name in it. There was no secret message. Believe me, I looked.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead” was underlined in red.

There was a loopy star next to “I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.”

(Oh, Morgan.)

Another star: “I had nothing to look forward to.”

It was that kind of book, and I guess Morgan was that kind of girl. There was a sadness inside her, a darkness I couldn’t touch. Strange as it seems, all the while I imagined her reading those words, dragging her pen under important sentences, drawing stars in the margins.

Reading is the most alone thing in the world.

But she was with me the whole time.

Weirdness. The book brought us closer, across time and impossible distance. We shared this.

=

 

ABOUT THE FALL . . . 

 

 “Readers will put this puzzle together, eager to see whether Sam ultimately accepts his role in Morgan’s death, and wanting to see the whole story of what one person could have, and should have, done for Morgan. Pair this with Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why (2007).” — Booklist.

“Told through journal entries, Preller’s latest novel expertly captures the protagonist’s voice, complete with all of its sarcasm, indifference, and, at the same time, genuine remorse.” — School Library Journal.

“With its timely, important message and engaging prose style, Sam’s journal ought to find a large readership.” (Fiction. 10-16) — Kirkus.

 “It was 2:55 am as I finally gave up on the notion of sleep.  Having started reading THE FALL by James Preller earlier in the day, I knew sleep would not come until I had finished Sam’s story.  Now, having turned the last page, it still haunts me and will for quite some time.”Guys Lit Wire.

“I didn’t realize the emotional impact this book had on me until the very last sentence when it brought tears to my eyes. This was a heartbreaking and beautiful story about friendship, bullying, and the aftermath of all of it.” — Expresso Reads.

NOMINATED FOR THE SAKURA MEDAL IN JAPAN!

YALSA “QUICK PICK” FOR RELUCTANT YOUNG ADULT READERS!

 

Fingertreeprint

“I’m a little worried about how much I’ve been thinking about my fingerprints. All the places I’ve been, the things and people I’ve touched, the marks I’ve left behind.”The Fall, JP 

 

 

In my writing, here and there, I’ve frequently returned to the idea/metaphor of fingerprints. Probably most cogently in The Fall, a book about identity and figuring out who you are (among other things). 

And I’ve also been writing about trees (Blood Mountain, mostly, and in some new work not yet published). Not only writing, but trying to learn about them. Reading, stopping to look, researching. 

So when I saw this meme, it resonated. 

 

 

 

                      

Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” as It Figures in My Book, “The Fall”

It began almost twenty-five years ago when I first started writing the Jigsaw Jones Mystery Series. I’d drop quick references to actual books that my characters were reading. Bunnicula, Shiloh, Nate the Great, and so on. Sometimes I’d do more with it, as in The Great Sled Race, where Jigsaw’s class is reading Stone Fox by John Reynolds Gardiner. In another example, The Case of the Buried Treasure, the students in room 201 had to do a “story maps” assignment based on Wolf in the Snow, the 2018 Caldecott Medal Winner by Matthew Cordell. This strategy was a nod of appreciation and a  way to connect the real world with Jigsaw’s fictional world. Maybe a reader would think, Hey, I read that book, too

I carried on that tradition over to longer works for middle-grade readers and beyond. It wasn’t a plan, exactly, it just sort of happened. In some ways, it poses a good question for a writer to ask of any character: What book would this person love? In Blood Mountain, there’s a former marine with PTSD. He’s living off the grid in the mountains. The dog-eared book he carries around is Lau Tsu’s Tao Te Ching. The fact of that book served as an entrance point into the struggles and mindset of the character.

For The Fall, I used Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. There was a time in our world when seemingly everyone read that book — I remember grabbing it off an older sister’s bookshelf. I decided to make The Bell Jar an important book for Morgan Mallen. It was fascinating for me to read it again through the eyes of that character. After Morgan’s death, by suicide, the book finds its way to The Fall’s narrator, Sam.

Here’s one passage where Plath’s book comes into play:

Morgan had marked up The Bell Jar here and there, little checkmarks and passages underlined.

The evocative, transcendent cover of the Japanese translation of THE FALL.

I never found my name in it. There was no secret message. Believe me, I looked.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead” was underlined in red.

There was a loopy star next to “I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.”

(Oh, Morgan.)

Another star: “I had nothing to look forward to.”

It was that kind of book, and I guess Morgan was that kind of girl. There was a sadness inside her, a darkness I couldn’t touch. Strange as it seems, all the while I imagined her reading those words, dragging her pen under important sentences, drawing stars in the margins.

Reading is the most alone thing in the world.

But she was with me the whole time.

Weirdness. The book brought us closer, across time and impossible distance. We shared this.

=

 

ABOUT THE FALL . . . 

 

 “Readers will put this puzzle together, eager to see whether Sam ultimately accepts his role in Morgan’s death, and wanting to see the whole story of what one person could have, and should have, done for Morgan. Pair this with Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why (2007).” — Booklist.

“Told through journal entries, Preller’s latest novel expertly captures the protagonist’s voice, complete with all of its sarcasm, indifference, and, at the same time, genuine remorse.” — School Library Journal.

“With its timely, important message and engaging prose style, Sam’s journal ought to find a large readership.” (Fiction. 10-16) — Kirkus.

 “It was 2:55 am as I finally gave up on the notion of sleep.  Having started reading THE FALL by James Preller earlier in the day, I knew sleep would not come until I had finished Sam’s story.  Now, having turned the last page, it still haunts me and will for quite some time.”Guys Lit Wire.

“I didn’t realize the emotional impact this book had on me until the very last sentence when it brought tears to my eyes. This was a heartbreaking and beautiful story about friendship, bullying, and the aftermath of all of it.” — Expresso Reads.

NOMINATED FOR THE SAKURA MEDAL IN JAPAN!

YALSA “QUICK PICK” FOR RELUCTANT YOUNG ADULT READERS!

 

FAN MAIL WEDNESDAY #295: When Joseph Basically Asks Me to Do His Homework

 

It happens often enough that just about every middle grade and YA author has experienced it. The ever-so-brief fan mail from a student that turns out to be an indirect request to do their homework. On one level: Resourceful! On another: Hey, you’re not fooling me, I see what you are doing, think for yourself

Over the years I’ve responded differently, depending on my mood. For this one, I felt chatty and gave an honest answer. Yes, I wanted a good grade! When I received Joseph’s response, I realized I probably let him down. Oh well! You’ll see.  

Here’s the first note from Joseph:

Hello, James. I am a fellow student who’s in high school in my sophomore year, I was curious to ask some questions about your book, THE FALL. I wanted to know what type of rhetoric device fits well in this story?

Thank you!

Joseph

 

I replied: 

Ha, Joseph, I am so glad I’m not in high school anymore. I would have failed this assignment!

There are a lot of different rhetorical devices in the world, most of them I’m not ever consciously employing. Asterismos and eutrepismus, hypophora and parallelism, procatalepsis and tmesis.

Oh boy, good times.

Can you tell I had to look all those up? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve used them at different points in my career, but not quite knowingly.

I think a lot of what we do as writers becomes instinctive, based on years and years of reading. You kind of eat it. Digest it. Absorb it and internalize all those storytelling strategies. So when you are telling your own story — trying to communicate — you just reach for whatever tool seems handy at the time.

The biggest conceit to The Fall, the Big Device, is that it’s presented as if it were Sam’s journal entries. He’s recounting the events to himself as a way to understand this really big and terrible thing that happened. He’s processing and, in turn, owning responsibility for his role in Morgan’s tragedy. As readers, we are looking over Sam’s shoulder, going through that experience with him.

Another device that comes to mind, which I used in one spot of the book, the “Not Me” chapter, is that Sam writes as if he’s on trial, addressing the jury. And you, the reader, of course, are on that jury. I didn’t carry that device throughout the book — I think it would have felt forced — but it seemed right at the time. And as readers, we are making those judgments of each character. Sam is acutely aware of being on trial.

Sam includes a few of his own poems, the way someone like Sam might. Maybe there’s a name for that, maybe it’s a rhetorical device, I don’t know. I just wanted to show Sam’s depth of feeling, how this stuff was pouring out of him, how he thought and felt, and the simple poems, again, seemed right for this journal format. It’s what I did as a kid in my journals, anyway.

Hey, Joseph: You forgot to tell me how much you loved the book! Don’t you know that’s how you are supposed to begin these letters? It’s a rhetorical device called “blowing smoke up someone’s butt.” Writers love that stuff. It gets our attention! And we immediately think, “What a smart young fellow!”

Next time: 1) Begin with a compliment; then 2) Ask me to do your homework!

(By the way, the above numbering technique is an example of eutrepismus, separating speech into numbered parts. We all do it, but 99% of us have never heard the name before. That’s writing, I think.)

All good things,

James Preller

Joseph politely replied the next day:

Thank you so much! So sorry, but this book was inspiring though haha! Its just I had include one Rhetorical Devices. those are 1. Repetition 2. Parallelism 3. Slogan and saws 4. Rhetorical questions

I had to choose one of them and explain why I chose it and how you used it in this book.

Oh well, I tried!