Dear Reader:
My latest novel, The Page Turner, is a story about why we too often judge one another – and the books we read – by a glance at the collective cover without knowing what is inside. It is also a story about how reading and books not only change us but also save our lives. They did mine.
Growing up “different” in rural America in the 1970s – with no one like me and no one to talk to about what I was going through – I felt alone in this world. Books allowed me to escape, understand, heal, hope and realize there was a place for me in the world just as I was. My grandma – my pen name, Viola Shipman – sensed I was “different,” and she loved me unconditionally and made sure I cherished my uniqueness. Even though my grandma never finished high school, she was a voracious reader who pushed books into my hands from the earliest of ages and made it clear that reading and education would not only change my life but quite possibly save it.
Books allowed me to see a vast world beyond the small town in which I lived. They allowed me to not only escape from the cruelty I often experienced but also understand the reasons behind the hatred. They allowed me to see – as my grandma instilled in me – that being unique was a gift. Books aren’t just books. Books are family. Authors are friends. The stories we read are timestamps in our memories. They bookmark important chapters in our lives and growth. Books are a chance to right the wrong in the world, an opportunity to rewrite ourselves. We can reimagine and reinvent, see the world in an entirely new way simply by turning a page. Or, sometimes, we can just escape from our own lives.
As Carl Sagan wrote: “What an astonishing thing a book is. It's a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you're inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic."
That’s exactly how I feel when I read and write: Magical. Like a literary unicorn.
Authors tend to write about the same topics – love, death, hope, loss – and we use the same words, the same linguistic tool belt, but it’s how we bring those stories to life that sets us apart.
That is why The Page Turner is also about voice. Not only the voice Emma Page uses to bring her novel to life, but the voice she owns that makes her special and that she is unwilling to silence. We all have a voice. In fact, I bet yours is talking to you in your head right now. However, there’s a good chance that you’ve forgotten the power of your own voice, the beauty of your own uniqueness. As I address in this book, we tend to bury that out of fear: Fear of being different, as I was; fear of being unpopular; fear that our family or friends will disapprove; fear of, well, everything. And slowly that voice becomes so quiet, so distant, we don’t even hear it anymore, and we are no longer the unique souls we once were. We are far from being the people we once dreamed. This novel is about overcoming fear and rediscovering your voice. As I write: Every voice is important. Every story needs to be heard.
I was once consumed by fear. And then I found my voice again. In fact, when I first started writing and dreaming of being an author, I truly believed that there was a golden key that was passed around New York City. It was handed out — late at night, in a fancy restaurant under gilded lights and over expensive drinks — to “certain” authors. And I would never be one of them. I now know — and you certainly already do — that such a key does not exist. The only key you need you already own: The one that unlocks the door to o
