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Today, so many entrepreneurs wonder how it is possible to succeed during a recession. Undertaking any business venture in today’s economic climate feels intimidating, especially with so much emphasis on the ailing economy and astronomical costs of living. Let’s face it. For a gaping majority of Americans, these are not prosperous economic times. However, we should not concede defeat prematurely.

The truth is, as long as there are corporations and firms, there will be a demand for writing and editing services. The trick–and sometimes greatest challenge, particularly for beginners–is building a winning portfolio and marketing your expertise in such a way that you become irresistible to potential clients.

Now that you have decided to try your hand at freelance work, how do you build a body of work that you can present to clients as samples? Unfortunately, many beginners fall into the trap of writing extensively (and, unfortunately, sometimes exclusively) for content sites that pay pennies per article. While these sites certainly offer you visibility on the Internet and optimize your articles for search engine success, you may find it frustrating to generate 10 or more articles and only receive a few dollars for your work. Ultimately, you must decide whether or not it is worthwhile to write for peanuts in the name of building a body of work.

Perhaps a better solution would be to hunt down publications that involve your area of expertise. If you are looking to submit to a given site or magazine, take a few hours to familiarize yourself with the publication’s guidelines, style, and tone. Try writing some sample articles in your subject of expertise. Not only can you submit these articles to the publications themselves, but you may also be able to use them as samples when approaching other clients.

Do you have writing wisdom to share with the masses? Perhaps you should consider writing an E-book featuring various tips and ideas and offer it on your website. My own website (which, admittedly, needs work) costs $1.25 per month, and I was able to obtain free hosting from a generous friend. However, there are many hosting plans available and, depending on your bandwidth needs, you can usually find an inexpensive plan for your site. Once you have built a website highlighting your bio, services, and expertise, you are ready to promote informational products that will generate revenue and attract new clients. An E-book in particular can serve either as a profitable product or a free gift to potential clients.

Unfortunately, because the job economy has suffered in recent years, there is a lot of of competition for jobs. However, with that increased competition comes an increased demand for résumé writers and cover letter writers. These tasks, which may seem rudimentary to some of you, are a great stumbling block to thousands of job seekers. Your skills may mean the difference between a job hunter’s application ending up in the recycling bin or winning him/her the job. Create a Craigslist account (free of charge) and offer résumé writing services in the “Services” section.

Today, many companies are looking to independent contractors to complete projects. Since contractual employees do not receive traditional benefits and are often paid in a lump sum, they often prove to be an economical choice. Capitalize on this. Offer your services to publishers, magazines, and successful businesses as a freelancer. Because of this trend towards contractual labor, you will be able to cast a much wider geographic net than someone seeking conventional employment. Freelancers often work remotely; thus, they open themselves up to a client base that spans not only the country, but the entire globe! Working remotely will also save you a fortune in gasoline expenses.

Feel free to post your tips about freelancing in a recessive economy. Just remember: no matter what the economic forecast, writing is always a marketable skill.

**spoiler alert** (I have marked this as spoilerish in content, but wish to reiterate here that this review contains MAJOR spoilers.)

If I could, I would give this book 3.5 stars; however, since that isn’t an option, I will give it 4. I try very hard not to grade a book down when the ending doesn’t go my way. Some of the best books I have read have had disappointing/ambiguous/depressing endings, but ones generally in keeping with the tenor of the narrative. But I do not enjoy cheap narrative tricks (i.e., contrived “twists”, Hollywood tearjerker sleights of pen, or saccharine big-red-bow endings).

Unfortunately, Book Five of this narrative involved a rather unrealistic big-red-bow sequence of serendipities; jobs, income, dwellings, office help, and even rent waivers fell from the sky and into Will’s and Cordelia’s laps. After so much struggle, their starting a life together felt somewhat effortless. These were college-age kids trying to strike out on their own. Where was the ramen, so to speak? Where was the initial financial struggle that couples even a decade older face? Simply put, where was the realism? Perhaps Chambers knew that he was running low on real estate, that his epic adolescent tome was already several inches thick and in need of an ending, so he had Cordelia apologize on his behalf for rushing through this part of the narrative. Unfortunately, in doing so, he forfeited some of the overarching realism that made this story so endearing.

Book Six, however, was when this book jumped the Heinian shark for me, and an otherwise unique narrative inspired by a timeless Japanese classic became a hackneyed tearjerker. Let me preface this by remarking that this story was a bold endeavor from the get-go–a male author taking on the psyche of a teenage girl. Chambers did the feminine adolescent mind justice throughout much of this book, with a few minor missteps here and there. However, Book Six was where he made his most egregious miscalculation. In killing off Cordelia and finishing the story from Will’s point of view, he essentially broke the promise of the first five books–that this was Cordelia’s story, her psyche, her gift to her child. She was not allowed to finish her own story; instead, she was disposed of (literally) at her beloved Uffington White Horse and we were left with nothing but Will’s closing statements. We experienced some of the most pivotal moments of her life–her wedding, her baby’s naming, and her few months of motherhood before death–through her husband’s eyes. Thus, both narrator and reader were robbed of something vital.

Cordelia’s voice carried us through nearly 800 pages of teenage angst, heartache, joy, musings, and relationships. It strikes me as strange that, in the final pages, the author took away her voice and replaced it with that of a man.

**spoiler alert**

There are three major periods of Beijing upheaval in this amazing novel, and Dai Wei survives them all: first Chairman Mao’s Cultural Revolution, then the crackdown at Tiananmen Square, and finally the beautification of Beijing for its Olympic bid, which brings his mother’s housing complex to rubble around him. Through all of this turmoil, Dai Wei is ever the observer, watching as the Cultural Revolution wreaks havoc on his parents’ marriage, as his friends orchestrate the protests at Tiananmen Square, and as his mother struggles in vain to remain in her home. He is, in this regard, an omniscient third-person narrator, allowing us a snapshot of many characters’ lives as he witnesses the conversations, deaths, romantic encounters, and psychological struggles that defined these periods in recent Chinese history.

We encounter characters who are of sound body and deadened mind, and vice versa. No one, however, escapes with both body and mind intact. Of particular interest is Dai Wei’s mother, who devotes her entire life to caring for his comatose body. His mind, however, is sharp as he travels the neural pathways of his own history and somatic systems. Even with eyes closed and body immobilized, he can sense his mother’s frustration and despair. After she is arrested for her participation in a peaceful Falun Gong demonstration and her would-be lover Master Yao is imprisoned, she returns as broken as Dai Wei’s friends after Tiananmen. She wishes her comatose son dead so that she can have some semblance of a life, but ultimately finds herself echoing the student demonstrators she once so vehemently opposed: “Down with Fascism!” The inclination to be free, Ma Jian insinuates, is innate, regardless of ideology and generation.

Few novels have driven home for me the horrors of the Cultural Revolution as vividly as this one, despite its focus on Tiananmen Square. Ma slips in some harrowing, eye-popping anecdotes about Red Guard brutality and inhumanity. Of course, the main event in this book is the unjustifiable brutality against peaceful student demonstrators.

**spoiler alert**

This was my third foray into Salman Rushdie (the first two being “The Satanic Verses” and “The Enchantress of Florence”). What made this reading experience so pleasurable, beyond the exquisite and sometimes raw prose, was being familiar enough with Rushdie’s work now to recognize a few universal themes. Perhaps most notable are the following three:

1) Estrangement from India. India itself is alternately protagonist and antagonistic, sometimes driving away the main characters, but also sometimes reeling them back in. Wherever they flee, she is a reality they will never escape. In this novel, Rushdie examines in some depth the concept of detachment from the East (i.e., “disorientation”).

2) The “goddess vs. property” conceptualization of women (p. 486). In Rushdie’s novels, particularly this one, women harness remarkable power. Reminiscent of Kawabata’s “The House of Sleeping Beauties”, the woman becomes “an empty receptacle, an arena of discourse, and we can invent her in our own image, as once we invented god” (p. 485). The male characters pour their entire selves into women like Vina or the Florentine enchantress, women whom they idolize. In this case, Vina becomes that “empty receptacle” for Ormus’ and Rai’s hopes, failures, desires, passions, expectations, shortcomings, disappointments, neuroses, etc., just as the sleeping beauties do for the old men in Kawabata’s story. In fact, it is not just Ormus and Rai who use Vina this way–the entire world, captivated by her singing and atypical candor in the press, makes Vina its “empty receptacle”. Even in death, she continues to function as the tabula rasa for various therapists, religious gurus, theorists, philosophers, and pundits–all of whom seek both to derive greater meaning and profit from her untimely death.

3) Doubles, twins, doppelgangers, and mirror images. The end chapters of this book are densely populated with Vina lookalikes and impostors. Ormus is haunted by his dead twin brother, Gayomart, who offers him visions of songs yet to be written and glimpses into alternate realities that torment him to no end, ultimately driving him mad. Mirror imagery throughout the story reinforces these dualistic themes.

Ultimately, this is the story of a very flawed, human love, something the narrative tells us explicitly. Ormus and Vina hurt many people throughout the course of their stormy on-again-off-again courtship–perhaps themselves most of all. Rai is the only character who escapes the destructive triangle, emerging not only with life and limb, but with a tamer, more humane version of Vina (Mira Celano). He achieves happiness with Mira that he could not with Vina–while Vina shunned the notions of fidelity and marriage, Mira craves them. And, perhaps most importantly, he does not have to share her body and soul with Ormus Cama.

What strikes me about a lot of Kawabata’s post-war fiction is its attendant silence. There are no melodramatic climaxes, no cheap tricks to shock the reader’s sensibilities. What plot contrivance, after all, could rival the horrors of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, of World War II itself?

The eerie quietude of Kawabata’s post-war Japanese fiction mirrors the silence that must have descended after each horrific detonation. There could be no louder sound, and Kawabata respects this in his nuanced, quiet narratives. He doesn’t try to talk over the deafening boom or outdo it with dramatic excess. Instead of showcasing the tidal waves of human relationships, those culminations of resentment and anger that sell millions of books and movie tickets every year, he probes their undercurrents and finds ample narrative potential there. In short, he reads between the lines of family and romantic relationships, giving voice to the motives, memories, and miscommunications that plague them.

**spoiler alert**

I truly struggled with what to rate this book. In the end, because I felt so physically drained (not to mention ill) after finishing it, I gave it four stars for effectiveness. Still, it was an arduous read, made even more arduous by its waffling between being an epistolary memoir and a page-turner. I probably should have seen the “twist” at the end coming from a mile away, but since the story packs such a painful punch without it, I let down my guard. The book barrels toward its expected conclusion–the school “shooting” (with the very crossbow Kevin received as a gift from his parents)–but then proceeds to kick the readers while they’re down as they relive Eva’s gruesome discovery of her husband’s and daughter’s bodies in the backyard. A horror novel itself could not be as nightmare-inducing as the gory scene Shriver lays out before us. In a sense, this is a horror novel–part chest-clutcher, part bloodbath, part cautionary tale, part scathing commentary on affluent America.

“We Need to Talk About Kevin” takes a cursory glance at the actual school shootings of 1998 and 1999, but the main events are Kevin and his mother, Eva. From day one (literally), the two are at odds with one another: Eva feels nothing when the newborn child is placed on her chest and Kevin refuses to nurse. Shriver creates a dark psychological landscape wherein there is no obvious reason for the ultimate acts of violence. Eva is painted as cold and detached from her abnormal child, while Franklin is painted as an over-indulgent father who sides with Kevin against Eva at every turn. However, even in infancy, Kevin displays aberrant behavior and a total disinterest in the world and people around him, leading us to believe that at least some of his psychosis is innate. We are left wondering whether he was a natural-born monster, the product of bad parenting, or the unfortunate byproduct of a rare Prozac side effect (the sociopathic Kevin tries to make the case in court that Prozac was to blame). The book leaves you with more questions than answers.

Ultimately, I believe that the reason Eva was spared was because she never had any delusions about who Kevin really was. While Franklin, coaxed into complacency by Kevin’s artful lying, turns a blind eye to his every misdemeanor and act of cruelty, Eva remains firm in her belief that there is something horribly wrong with her son. At the end of the book, you wish with all your heart that she had been wrong.

**spoiler alert**

While I need to let this book percolate a bit in my mind, I want to write a review while the details are still fresh.

What can I say about a novel of such epic proportions? For 1349 pages, we follow the Kapoors, Chatterjis, Mehras, and Khans–among others–through a stormy era in India’s recent past. We see how the all-encompassing sociopolitical unrest in 1950s India trickles down into the familial microcosms–and how the seemingly petty family dramas trickle up into the political arena. This is an adversarial time on all fronts. The Hindus and Muslims clash regularly (and sometimes violently), the spectre of Pakistan looms large on the horizon, socialism has taken root and challenged the Congressional status quo, and legal disputes over land ownership abound.

At the heart of this story is Rupa Mehra and her quest to procure a “suitable boy” for her daughter, Lata. It is up to the reader to determine which of her three suitors is the most “suitable”, and whether or not she marries the right one. Perhaps no such suitor exists. The narrative builds the passionate, stormy romance between Lata and the Kabir over a span of over 1300 pages, with intermittent scenes to prop up her courtships with Amit and Haresh. However, it is Kabir who seeps into her unconscious, appearing not only in her waking thoughts, but in dreams as well. Unfortunately, their romance proves to be an ill-fated one–not only does an unfortunate misunderstanding drive a wedge between them for much of the story, but, ultimately, Lata cannot turn her back on her family (particularly her old-fashioned, melodramatic mother) to marry a Muslim man.

Also of interest is the homoerotic friendship between Maan and Firoz. What might have ended tragically, given the heat-of-the-moment stabbing incident, ends somewhat ambiguously and not altogether unhappily.

I give this book five stars for intricacy of plot and four stars for characterization. Lata’s final choice (and, more importantly, her decision to follow through with it) left me feeling a bit baffled–and, admittedly, a bit cheated. However, even the disappointing ending to the suitor saga does not take away from just how stunning this narrative was.

There have been a few false starts in terms of TV/film adaptations. If this novel ever makes it to the big screen, or even the TV screen, it would be interesting to see how a screenwriter would condense such an intricate and densely populated story.

**spoiler alert**

High comedy, high tragedy. Urban sprawl. The preparation of a city for the National Virgin Beauty Competition (otherwise known as the Hymen Olympics), not dissimilar to the preparation of Beijing for the 2008 Olympics. Scoundrel-turned-tycoon Baldy Li, spectacle-turned-loving-wife-turned-nymphomaniac-turned-madam Lin Hong, and then the faithful, terminally unlucky (and often pathetic) Song Gang. The real “romance” in this novel is the stormy relationship between stepbrothers Baldy Li and Song Gang. The center of the love triangle is not ultimately Lin Hong, but Song Gang, who is torn between the two for much of the story.

The deaths of Baldy Li’s mother and Song Gang’s father set the stage for the rest of the story. On her deathbed, Baldy Li’s mother tells Song Gang that he must always take care of his younger brother, and he promises that he will give the last grain of rice in his bowl to Baldy Li. He only breaks this promise once: when he marries Lin Hong, whom Baldy Li has humiliated and stalked for years despite her lack of interest.

Also of interest: the theme of impotence. The brazen Baldy Li undergoes a vasectomy after learning that his beloved Lin Hong, whom he spent years humiliating after peeping her backside in a public bathroom, has married the quiet, sensitive Song Gang. Song Gang himself is impotent, never giving his wife a baby or, as we later find out, much sex at all. His impotence is not just sexual, but universal–he is unable to assert himself in relationships, and unable to provide for himself or his wife.

Moreover, Song Gang is a gender-ambiguous character, more often than not landing in feminine territory. We watch him assemble strands of flowers to sell in a basket to Liu Town women, and even undergo breast augmentation surgery to help sell Wandering Zhao’s “Boobs” cream. For several chapters, he walks around town with D-cup breasts, and has moderate success selling the product. It is patently absurd. We, the readers, are embarrassed for him–not to mention irritated that he is so submissive to his wayward business partner Zhao that he would mutilate himself this way.

This story chalks much up to fate, emphasizing several times, “‘If you are fated to have only fifteen ounces of rice in this life, then even if you go away to seek your fortune, you still won’t end up a with full pound.’” So perhaps Song Gang’s tragic fate “est écrit dans les étoiles”, as the French would say (my choice of expression here will make sense when you read the last page of the book). Or perhaps he is simply too passive, too self-sacrificing to mirror Baldy Li’s rampant material successes.

**spoiler alert**

This story sneaks up on you. Just when you’ve convinced yourself that this is a journey without any real destination (and, in a sense, I suppose it is), things begin to click. The triangle between Mr. Stevens, Miss Kenton, and Mr. Benn mirrors that of Mr. Stevens, Lord Darlington, and Mr. Farraway. In each case, the person stuck in the middle has given all of himself/herself to another, and has little left for the third party. In the case of the first triangle, Miss Kenton has little to offer Mr. Benn, as she has always loved Mr. Stevens. In the second triangle, we see that Stevens has little to offer Farraway, as his loyalties as a butler will forever lie with Lord Darlington.

Throughout the story, Stevens fails to see what is in front of him on both a personal and professional level. The Germans continue to take advantage of Darlington’s kind-hearted nature in order to make gains in Great Britain, but Stevens is too preoccupied with his duties to notice. Moreover, Miss Kenton is desperately in love with him, painfully so, and he cannot see it. He is the quintessential unreliable narrator, confusing past scenes in his memory and hinting (with his sometimes defensive and/or evasive language) that things may not have played out exactly as he describes them.

Perhaps most ingenious about this narrative is how it rarely skims Stevens’ surface. Normally, I would frown upon a story that probes so little into the protagonist’s psyche, but the absence of deep introspection is a powerful characterization in and of itself. In his most candid thoughts, Stevens is often defending a past embarrassment or error in his capacity as a butler. In his most lucid moments, he fails to identify the emotions that Miss Kenton evokes within him. He has remained “in character” for so long that he has forgotten how to be human, how to read between the lines of banter, how to see past façades and into people’s true motives. In his final encounter with Miss Kenton (now Mrs. Benn), she reaches out to him one last time, and he is still as clueless as ever. The novel ends with him thinking of how he might improve his bantering skills in order to impress his new master, Mr. Farraway.

So, in the strictest of terms, the narrative comes full circle. Stevens will continue to be a faithful, albeit somewhat diminished, butler for the rest of his life, pouring the wine while his guests determine the fate of the Western world. He resigns himself to this, declaring it to be inevitable.

Be patient with this book. It may surprise you.