Philadelphia Stories Weblog

When protagonist Matt Younger returns home after years of being ostensibly lost at sea in J.P White’s debut novel, Every Boat Turns South, he does so ensconced in “the musty tang of things growing and rotting in the same catch.” The moment, needless to say, is pregnant with ambivalence, and the tension between past and future, life and death, hope and despair is one that White develops beautifully throughout this emotionally intelligent tale of high-seas adventure.

The novel is framed much like the classic Persian tale of One Thousand and One Nights. Rather than telling stories to keep himself alive, however, the protagonist is racing against the clock to make a full confession to his dying father; long regarded as the cause of his superstar brother’s death, Matt has been drifting for years, finding himself in one brand of trouble after another, with his nights usually ending up at the bottom of a bottle of a rum. Yet even as Matt flees from his past, the ghost of his brother is always nearby, haunting his every move. Hence the need for Matt’s confession: he wants to make a clean break with the past and start his life anew. Of course, such things are often easier said than done.

In addition to One Thousand and One Nights, Every Boat Turns South boasts a strong literary heritage. Hints of American classics ranging from Herman Melville to Ernest Hemingway and John Steinbeck saturate the novel, but perhaps the strongest connection I can make is to Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, as the prodigal son returns home to make amends with his family only to be met with ongoing resistance. The big difference this time around, however, is that we finally get a chance to find out what the son was up to while he was gone, and Every Boat Turns South serves up the sin and misery in spades.

A gripping page-turner, Every Boat Turns South is the perfect antidote to the end-of-summer blahs. White’s gift for suspense is matched only by his lyrical facility with the language of the sea. Highly recommended.

Marc Schuster is the Associate Fiction Editor of Philadelphia Stories and the author of The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom and Party Girl.

In a world in which news can reach us in a matter of mere seconds after it has occurred, I feel like we are missing out on the human element. When was the last time you honestly had a phone conversation with someone that lasted more than a minute?  Better yet, when was the last time you got a letter in the mail from a friend? With the Internet and email, we don’t need to rely on the post office or old Mr. Bell’s invention to send news quickly to one another. In a click, our baby’s new pictures or a web video of his or her first words can be sent. Our handy phones can do all the talking for us. Just the other day I was scrolling through my text messaging templates and I saw one that said, “I love you”. Now I don’t even have to take the extra five seconds it would take for me to type the words; I could just click a button or two and my message would be sent.

That knowledge makes me sick. How important do I think my life is that I can’t stop for a few seconds and text a loved one those words?

Furthermore, why couldn’t I just call and leave a message? Why do I have to text at all?

In a blog I wrote called, “Saving the Post Office One Post card at a Time” http://mwittle.wordpress.com/2009/08/08/saving-the-post-office-one-post-card-at-a-time/,  I discussed the importance of the post office and also the importance of getting personal mail. But I think with this blog, I need to take it one step more.

I fear we are becoming more and more dependent on machines to hold our memories and our most treasured items. For that, we need to be ashamed.

Computers crash and phones die. But what does last is the written word.

I can tell you that some of my most precious items are cards and letters I have gotten over time. One card that comes to my mind as I write this blog is one I got for my birthday a few years ago. On it was a purple stick figure of me and it said on the front, “Happy birthday to (there was then an arrow pointing to the purple stick figure)”. Inside the card held many of our private jokes that I could explain to you but it wouldn’t make sense and you would be bored, so I will spare you all of that.  But the reason I love this card so much is because it was created just for me by the giver. Hallmark couldn’t have created a better card.

The words that come from the heart mean the most. While it is true you can pour your heart and soul in an email, it doesn’t really have the full power you could get from writing it in your own hand.

So, I ask you all to consider this final thought. When you have something very personal to say to someone else, find the human element that works best for you. Some might want to talk on the phone, while others (myself included) may need to write the words out on paper. Send it off in the mail or hand it to the person; but make sure you take the time to give that extra human touch. Trust me, when that person needs you the most, all they will need to do is take out that letter or recall your voice. It will help far more than an email  or a text message.