Growing up, there was one person who stands out first in my life—she showed me what it meant to be loved, to be admired, to be acknowledged . . . that was my grandmother Reine Ajas Kirsch. She told me I was good looking, which wasn’t something I heard elsewhere. She used her gas stove in her little summer trailer to heat a curling iron to give me the ringlets she thought were becoming. I ate breakfast with her every day in the summer after seventh grade once I finished my cross-country workout, and she heaped more Nestles Quik into my glass of milk than I deserved. I cleaned out her ashtrays, full of LARK cigarette butts, and my sister Laurel and I used her empty vodka bottles (one bottle each week, mixed with root beer) to make our own bar in the back yard, on a saw horse. She watched us from her trailer window. Granny Kirsch died when I was 14, but she is with me to this day. Here she is in an advertisement “Changing a tire’s so easy, even a woman can do it” or something like that. She was my person.

I was married for 21 years and raised three beautiful children. They amaze me, and they are all way smarter than I am. But the time came when I needed to take care of myself and leave the relationship with my husband / get back to the city of my heart, New York, get back to who I always was. I can’t say it was easy, and the next four years of a nesting house were challenging, for me, for my kids, for him too I’m sure. That’s over now.

For several years, when in New York half the time, I lived simply and peacefully . . . cooking gourmet meals just for myself and traveling to NJ every other week to take my turn at the nesting house . . .

And then I met my split apart, and my world exploded (the split apart phrase comes from Jandy Nelson’s I’LL GIVE YOU THE SUN). After a couple years, my split apart told me that he wasn’t comfortable calling me his person, his partner, or his girlfriend. He told me that he’d prefer to call me his wife. I said, “Are you asking me to marry you?” He said, “Yes.” And I agreed to do so with all of my heart. He brings joy to me, every single day, and he doesn’t ever get anxious. (I do.)

My father had the chance to meet him before he passed away last year. My father, the toughest of critics, loved Marty immediately. My mother loves him too.

I told my mom last fall that we were engaged. And I told her that I didn’t want to wear a diamond again. I told her I wanted an aquamarine. An aquamarine represents happiness, hope, and everlasting youth. In ancient times, aquamarine was thought to protect those at sea. It was believed to make sailors fearless and safe from adversaries on the open waters.

When I mentioned the aquamarine, my mother left her chair from the facebook video chat and went into her bedroom. She emerged with this aquamarine, which my Grandma Reine had purchased for herself when she had a little extra cash. It fit my finger like a glove. How did this suffragette, born in 1896, bearing my mother in 1935 by Caesarian Section, much shorter than I am and not the same body type, have the exact same size finger as I do? That is other. And I believe in other.

How I wish she could be here for my wedding next year. How I love her, and how she influenced me is enormous.

The world goes round . . .

Love to all on this amazing day.

Holly

It’s almost a year since my father passed away. He was 87, but he seemed to be impervious to death. He survived diabetes, colon cancer, heart issues, a burst appendix . . . his health was declining for sure, but none of us thought he would die of a massive heart attack in the middle of the night last February. In so many ways, we are grateful that he did not have a prolonged illness. But in so many other ways it was a total shock.

I’ve been thinking about my father so much recently; and I’ve been talking with his best friend Dwight fairly often, one of the kindest people ever to inhabit this planet. I’ve been thinking about all the baseball games we attended together, thinking about the miracle of his diner buddy friendships, thinking about how that once a year Yankees game formed the tapestry of life-long friendships, between me and his friends, thinking about how proud he was of me. Thinking about how much I miss him.

And thinking about last Christmas (2022), when my partner and I decided to drive up to Marcy, NY and take my parents out for lunch. I didn’t know that would be my last lunch with my dad. And about six weeks later, I was at a very special dinner with one of my most beloved clients, Peter H. Reynolds, and at the end of dinner, be bought me a box of chocolate to send my parents. There was a scrabble theme to it, four of the chocolate pieces spelling LOVE. My parents wrote me how much they loved it, how they researched the French chocolate factory it came from, and how they were rationing out the pieces each day. I didn’t know that was the last gift I would be privileged to send my father. He was a lover of gifts.

So these past few days, I’ve been overwhelmed with how much I miss him, and I’ve been playing LAY MY BURDEN DOWN by Caroline Herring nonstop, crying much of the time. A day or two ago, I called my super, Nelson, to remind him to stay in touch with his father in Puerto Rico. He was on the phone with his father at the time, and he put his father on hold to listen to me. He told me that he was afraid to go on the trip to PR alone, and that his wife didn’t want to go. But he was resolute that he would make the trip because his father is aging and he wants to see him.

I have to call this experience “other”. Whether one believes in God or a higher power doesn’t matter. I do not know what I believe except that there is so much “other” in this world if we pay attention with our heads and our hearts. I’m okay not knowing exactly what “other” is. The fact that it’s there is enough. Nelson has a trip planned, and I hold my father in my heart, always. He’ll be with Nelson on his trip, I’m sure. And I bow down to my mother, who has found a way to be strong, alive, and grateful, even though Dad is gone from this earth.

Our virtual launch conversation for What the World Could Make was extraordinary, and in case you missed it, you can watch it here.

Hosted by Julie Burstein & Schuler Books & Nicola’s Books, Kate DiCamillo, Pascal Lemaitre, and I talked about our dreams and how What the World Could Make came to be. Fortunately, it was recorded and you can see it anytime (just beware the very opening got cut off). I think you’ll be inspired by the talk, maybe laugh a little bit too / it was an amazing night! And if you watch all the way through you’ll have the opportunity to see the reveal of my launch party pants . . .

We can't wait to see you at the virtual launch for

What the World Could Make!

We'll talk about how dreams can morph into books, among other things. Three-time Newbery winning writer Kate DiCamillo will be chatting with us, as she was an integral part of how this story came to be, and the amazing Julie Burstein will be our moderator.

If you are wondering how to attend this virtual event via facebook, simply click on the link below into your browser at 5 p.m. Eastern on Tuesday, May 4 & you'll find us waiting for you.

Link to party!

But we won't be there before 5 p.m., so don't go early & get confused :-)

You'll be able to converse with all of us via the comments, and although we'd rather see you all in person,

this is going to be fun!

xox

Holly & Pascal

The Story Behind What the World Could Make

On sale May 4, 2021

Order here if you like.

“In the depths of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”

—Albert Camus

I first met Belgian artist Pascal Lemaitre in 2001, and our friendship has grown closer each passing year . . .  And I first met writer Kate DiCamillo in 2000, and our friendship has also grown closer each year.  

Both of these relationships have been lynchpins in my life, reminding me always that even though so much may not be okay in the world, there is limitless beauty and hope to be found—in our friendships, in nature, and in generosity and openness toward one another.   

Nearly a decade ago, I had a dream about Kate and me. We were on a roller coaster above the ocean—in a single cart on a single track, 12 feet above the waves. Our cart started moving, and we went up, and up and up, sitting side by side. But at the very top of that first incline, our cart stopped moving. We sat there. Kate looked at me and I looked at her.  

She said, “What do we do now?” 

I said, “We lean forward.”  

For Christmas that year, I asked Pascal to draw this dream for me and Kate, and he obliged. But he turned us into bunnies, to show gentleness, whimsy, humor, and the universal quality of friendship.  

And every Christmas since then, Pascal has drawn an image of the bunnies, based on something essential between me and Kate.  

One year, he drew us huddled, with axes falling around us from the sky . . . but we were safe.  

Another year, he drew us lying side by side on a pillow—this image came from an experience in our waking life—unbeknownst to each other, Kate and I had each bought exactly the same pillow sham and comforter, with the same loud and distinct pattern, far away from our usual sensibility—I didn’t know what to say when I saw her comforter and sham, at her house. . . Kate didn’t know what to say either. But it mattered to both of us, deeply—it was a hint at the mystery of the universe.   

And then in this year’s bunny image, we are simply holding each other, sharing a mask.  

Inspired by this extraordinary friendship, Rabbit and Bunny materialized from dream to book. I am “Bunny,” and Kate is “Rabbit.” We are on a journey together, a journey of noticing, a journey of gifts, a journey of the seasons. But more than anything, a journey about the unfailing possibilities the world holds, always and forever, despite everything. As Kate wrote to me once, “We have built ourselves a small steady flame in the lake of the woods of the world, and we are warm.” 

It is this journey of hope and warmth that I wish for everybody, of every age. 

With love,

Holly

It was one of my heroes, Carl Jung, someone whose philosophy has inspired my life, who said: The world will ask you who you are, and if you don't know, the world will tell you. I want every 17 year old to understand this.

*I am a New Yorker. Sometimes you just know where you belong . . . you know with your heart, and in New York City there are millions and millions of people living in relative peace--it is anonymity, and it is community, all in one, and it is beautiful . . . 

*I am an editor, a literary agent, and the owner of Pippin Properties, Inc. Words and pictures are at the core of who I am, and after being an editor at HarperCollins for several years, there were a few book projects I loved that didn’t make it through the acquisitions process. Out of frustration, and out of passion, I opened the doors at Pippin Properties, Inc. in 1998, a boutique literary agency, now located in Bryant Park. It was born from a longing to see stories I loved in print.

Little did I know that Pippin would grow and flourish and become home to some of the crown jewels of the publishing world. 

*People sometimes ask me what to do in their lives or careers, and I answer them with this: Find where you feel completely yourself, where you feel welcome, and the rest will follow. I promise you this.

*I am a writer. Working intimately with so many extraordinarily talented authors and artists helped me understand that I’m an artist too, and so in some ways it’s not that surprising that I started writing books. My first middle-grade novel, Matylda, Bright and Tender, came out in 2017 as did Come with Me (a picture book illustrated by my Belgian friend Pascal Lemaitre). In 2019, my second collaboration with Pascal, Listen, was published, and I am so excited to keep on writing my own books and bringing books I love into the world at Pippin. Look for What the World Could Make, again illustrated by Pascal Lemaitre, on May 4, 2021, available for preorder here.

*I am a poet, and I am making a commitment to working on my craft, a commitment I’ve failed on for awhile now. There are mixed views on the meaning of poetry, for me: it heals. And it is beautiful and reduces the truths of life to their essence. It is an exercise in discipline, bravery, passion, and honesty.

*I am a Democrat. And a fierce advocate for a more equitable world for all. I am doing all I can to become an antiracist. Growing up where I did, I didn’t understand what this meant. Jason Reynolds’ adaptation of Ibram X. Kendi’s STAMPED FROM THE BEGINNING helped me, and I will be grateful to them and their book for as long as I am here and beyond. And I will always continue making efforts toward a better, more fair world.

*I am a mom of three amazing kids, and I’d do anything for them, unless I feel it would hurt them.

*Love is not finite. & there is no end to the amount of love we can give, for things and people and causes that matter.

*I take care of things I love, including my 30 year old Ming Aurelia plant and her 15 year old daughter. I learned by paying attention that they like to be watered every 17 days. Five bottles of water for the mama, and three for the kid. People and plants thrive when they receive what they need.

*I am a dog lover, and am willing to get up in the middle of the night if my dog (Dario) needs me. (Although I prefer sleeping late.) The ashes of my last dog, Zora Rider, will be with me till I am not. I lost her in COVID, and had to say goodbye via ZOOM. That was devastating, and she didn’t know what was happening / didn’t understand the computer screen. My heart will forever go out to people who had to say goodbye to loved ones, virtually or not, during the terrible Pandemic . . . what a horrible horrible way to begin to process the grief, the grief of losing someone, or something, the grief of the world.

And that said, I still have hope.

*I like certain routines, like my planking, nine minutes a day. Planking has bookended my days, every day, for six and a half years now, minus about five times when I made up for missing with 18 minutes the next day. And a couple times when I did 27 minutes on the third day. While discipline is important, so is the ability to break away from routine sometimes. It is freeing.

*I am unconventional. Some people say I’m a unicorn.

*I am curious. But not nosy.

*I love my family and my friends. And I love passing on traditions too, as much as I love recreating them. I love legacy, old and new.

*That said, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s important to love from a distance, in order to preserve one’s strength.

*I will fight, with dragon power, for a more just and loving world, using all the tools in my arsenal. I will not back down.

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