A delightful gathering

 

Women in Texas Publishing
(l to r), Fran Vick; UNT Press; Kathie Lang, SMU Press;
Gayla Christiansen, Texas A&M University Press;
Shannon Davies, UT and Texas A&M University presses,
and me, TCU Press, seated

It’s been a dull, rainy week in North Texas, and for me, personally, a week filled mostly with a medical appointment, untangling insurance mix-ups, and that kind of busy work. Not much time for writing, so you can perhaps imagine how delighted I was yesterday afternoon to host a brief reunion of women I’ve worked with in publishing. The annual meeting of the Texas Philosophical Society made this reunion possible. The society is meeting in Fort Worth this year, and most of my gathered colleagues were headed to a reception that marked the beginning of a  weekend of study devoted, far as I can tell, to the life and work of the late Larry McMurtry. Their list of assigned reading included the relatively new Larry McMurtry: A Live, by Tracy Daughterty. I expect them to be most knowledgeable about McMurtry, his puzzling life, and his many and different books.

Meantime we gathered at the cottage, and I served them wine and a caviar dip (figured I had to do something to measure up against the reception they were going to). We talked about writers we’d worked with, from McMurtry to Larry L. King, about what is going on with various university presses today, and what we would do differently were we still running the show; we caught up on news of some folks we hadn’t seen in a while. We talked a lot about food and cookbooks, though I honestly tried to steer the conversation in other directions because I didn’t want it to be all about the book I’m working on.

But a difference of opinion that came up interested me: some thought in working with vintage recipes (strange to think of the Fifties as vintage, but that was seventy years ago, so its historical) you should never change a thing, not one  comma or period of quarter teaspoon of salt. Others  (including me) think it’s okay to adjust  the recipes for today’s palate. It struck me later that the conversation was like the division on the Supreme Court—originalists vs. moderates—or like religious differences, principally among Protestant churches: is the Bible the literal word of God or the work of men, to be taken as a guide rather than carved in stone. I won’t check in on that one, but I am not a constitutional originalist (mostly because I don’t think the second amendment is at all relevant in an age of assault rifles). So I’ve decided I’m not a recipe originalist either.

I also got nice words on what an original and interesting character my diva chef Irene is—those comments may spur me to go back to look at the half-written fifth book in the series.

And we caught up on families and children and grandchildren and, yes, Gayla and I exchanged dog news. Because these women are family to me. But the big takeaway of the afternoon to me was that I enjoyed book talk with women who are knowledgeable about books—the kind of talk I long for and don’t get often enough. I had a long career in Texas publishing and loved every minute of it. When I said yesterday that I still sometimes dream that I’m working again, hosting an Autograph Extravaganza or going to Texas Book Festival, someone asked, “Really? After all this time?” (I’ve been retired twelve years). “Really,” I replied. “I’m sometimes very busy about books in the night.”

So for a bit yesterday I was back in that world, and there was a touch of magic about it.

The philosophical folks are dining at the Drover Hotel tonight and were told to wear “Texas chic,” whatever that is—lots of turquoise, boots and jeans for the men I imagine. Seems perfectly fitting to me for a society that puts two disparate terms—Texas and philosophy—together. I’m anxious to hear a report.