WRITING BLOOMS ON NORTH COAST

Over the past several decades, Northern California has changed

dramatically. So has the literary scene. Now there is a literary scene.

Now there are writers everywhere you turn -- from Petaluma to Petrolia, St.

Helena to San Rafael. Now there's renewed interest in the literary past and in

our literary ancestors -- in Jack London and in M.F.K. Fisher. There are

hundreds of writers in Northern California and each one of them is unique.

Still, they have all been shaped in one way or another by the region -- by its

history, geography and culture, and in turn they have all helped to shape and

define the region.

Our writers have held up a mirror in which we have been able to see

ourselves and the world in which we live. They show us as fragile and yet

resilient, lost and yet very much at home. The male writers tend to be wild

men; the women are often warriors of one sort or other. Our writers, like

writers all over the state, explore the California dream and the California

nightmare. And then, too, we have our share of mystery writers and authors of

detective fiction.

When I first arrived from New York, our writers seemed few and far between.

Author appearances in local bookstores were rare events indeed. Folks ventured

forth to see the prize pigs, sheep and cows that the 4-H kids nurtured -- they

were worth seeing -- and for pancake breakfasts to raise money for local fire

departments. The fairs and the fund-raisers still go on, but now there's a

book culture to go along with the agriculture.

The first book party I attended took place at the Bodega Fire Department,

not far from the Pacific Ocean. There was a good turnout that day for Chester

Aaron -- who was born in Pennsylvania -- but as a rule, folks did not come out

to see writers, and in those days writers didn't seem to care that much about

being seen and heard either. The idea of ''literature'' was suspect in some

circles -- even in academic circles -- but it was also beloved, especially

among farmers and ranchers, many of them European immigrants who would rather

read Tolstoi and Thomas Mann than watch TV.

If I wanted serious writers, I was often told, I had best look elsewhere.

Why didn't I go back to New York? More than one neighbor asked me that

question. I have remained here, perversely perhaps, and I have kept looking

for writers, though at times I have thought that I might be looking in the

wrong place. Henry James -- who thought a lot about the connections between

literature and society -- once said that for literature to thrive it was

essential to have a rich cultural soil and solid institutions. I've wrestled

with that idea for years, and I've come to the conclusion that James was

right. Literary geniuses like Jack London and M.F.K. Fisher seem able to

thrive anywhere, but most of us need community, cultural roots and a sense of

history. And roots, history and community take time, as Henry James

understood.

The longer I have lived here, the more writers I have met and grown to

admire. The literary community has grown, cultural traditions have become

richer and more complex, and as a literary environment we've developed a keen

appreciation of the past. Like me, many writers have come from other towns and

other cities all across America. Soon after I arrived, I met J.J. Wilson --

who came from Virginia -- and Karen Petersen, a native who was born and raised

in Petaluma. Together Wilson and Petersen wrote about unknown women artists

from around the world, and their work inspired local women artists. I met Bill

Barich, who was from Long Island and who wrote about horse racing and fishing

for the New Yorker, no less. There was Gerald Rosen, who came from the Bronx

and wrote about his family in the Bronx. There was Gaye LeBaron, The Press

Democrat's premier columnist, who wrote authoritatively about local history,

and Professor Hector Lee, who rewrote the lore of Northern California's heroes

and villains. The list grew larger and larger: Jim Dodge, Dana Gioia, Joy

Sterling, Mavis Jukes.

The local scene experienced setbacks as well as its advances. There was no

steady line of literary development. At times, I felt I'd never find a lasting

literary scene. Then a new wave of writers would suddenly break on these

shores -- even writers like Chile's Isabel Allende, who came from distant

continents and who felt like exiles.

Increasingly, too, men and women who had been born and raised in Northern

California began to write fiction about this place and its people. The

insiders had advantages the interlopers and outsiders didn't have, especially

if they had listened to tales about the secret past. Greg Sarris makes his

home in Los Angeles and teaches at UCLA, but he grew up in Santa Rosa among

Native Americans. In ''Grand Avenue'' and ''Watermelon Nights'' he tells the

hidden history and mythology of our region. Sarris is the closest thing we

have to William Faulkner -- a novelist who makes our own little world into a

whole universe.

In the mid-1980s, I started a summer writers' conference at Sonoma State

University. Suzanne Lipsett was a spark plug. Gerald Haslam made an

appearance, and Bill Barich paid a visit. Amy Tan -- who had grown up in Santa

Rosa -- gave a talk, though no one paid that much attention. She hadn't yet

published ''The Joy Luck Club,'' her first book, and she hadn't been

discovered by the literary world at large. When I gave up the reins of the

writers' conference, Robin Beeman took over. In addition to working on her own

stories, Beeman taught writing at the Sitting Room, the community library in

Cotati that has mostly served women and that features women writers, both

local and global.

Cultural institutions, such as the Sitting Room, have sprung up all over

Northern California, and so have publications, like ''The Reader's

Rejoinder,'' a newsletter that the poet Don Emblen founded, edited and wrote

for when he wasn't printing chapbooks and broadsides at the Clamshell Press.

Today, Susan Bono publishes fiction and nonfiction in ''Tiny Lights,'' Barbara

Baer operates Floreant Press and Chip Wendt publishes poems and stories at

Running Wolf.

In the mid-1980s, I began to write book reviews and profiles of local

authors. I had published book reviews in the San Francisco Chronicle, but

writing for The Press Democrat was different. I liked being a local critic

accountable to my neighbors and not to the publicity department of a major

publisher in Manhattan. As far as Manhattan was concerned, I was invisible. I

enjoyed that invisibility; it gave me a license to speak my mind.

The Sunday book pages of The Press Democrat have helped to create a book

culture in Northern California. Sara Peyton and Victoria McMains shared space

with me at the PD and gave the book pages depth and diversity. Librarians

joined the burgeoning book culture, too, and the bookstores played a part by

holding author events, and making it possible for readers and writers to meet,

mix and talk. At North Light in Cotati, Carolina Clare persuaded Guerneville's

Dorothy Allison, the reclusive author of ''Bastard Out of Carolina,'' to read

from her work -- a rare treat indeed. At Copperfields, Paul Jaffe, Jane Love

and Tom Montan lured famous writers here, including Anne Lamott, and

encouraged the growth of book clubs where friends would gather to talk about

books -- and about babies, recipes, marriages and divorces.

Northern California's book culture has grown as the region as a whole has

grown, and it has thrived as newcomers have collided with old-timers, and as

the spirit of innovation has clashed with the weight of tradition. Our

literature has grown as wineries have grown, as creative chefs have

transformed our menus and our palates, and as first-rate creative-writing

teachers and creative writers themselves -- Sherril Jaffe, Gillian Connely and

Noelle Oxenhandler -- have come to Sonoma State University.

Over the past 30 years or so, Northern California has lost much of its

invisibility and anonymity. It isn't a literary backwater anymore. Now it's a

destination for tourists as well as for authors on book tours. We belong on

the literary map of America. We have come of age as a region for readers and

for writers.Jonah Raskin is a regular book reviewer for The Press Democrat and

is the chairman of the communication studies department at Sonoma State

University. This is excerpted from his new book, ''Natives, Newcomers,

Fugitives and Exiles,'' which will be published in December by Running Wolf

Press in Healdsburg.