As you know by now, Cadow, who lives in Norwich and is the high school principal in Bradford, VT, was one of five finalists in the young people’s literature category for his recently published YA novel, Gather. On Wednesday night, he and the other finalists—both in his own category and the four others—were fêted at a gala event put on by the National Book Foundation in NYC, with LeVar Burton as emcee and Oprah Winfrey as guest speaker.
Since that’s not a common spot for Upper Valley school administrators (or residents, period) to find themselves in, Daybreak caught up with Cadow—full disclosure: he’s also a friend—by phone Thursday morning to ask what it was like. He was at LaGuardia Airport awaiting a flight to Miami, where the young people’s finalists were to spend time at a teen press conference and then a series of workshops at the Miami Book Fair.
Gather, by the way, did not win the award—though being one of five finalists out of 348 submissions considered by the judges is so close as to make very little difference. When the winner’s name was announced—Dan Santat for his graphic memoir, A First Time for Everything—Cadow says, “I felt every muscle in my body relax when it wasn’t me. I’d wanted to prepare in case I won, but I think I only slept an hour and a half the night before. So all I had were little talking points I’d stuck in my phone.”
So how was it?
It’s been a total whirlwind. I’ve been walking around with a publicist who’s accompanied me and Lisa [his wife] everywhere. She’s like, “This is where we’ll have a window to eat, and then sneak off to a bookstore to do some signings. And hey, Ken, don’t forget your glasses!” Man, if they could do that for principals I might actually get my job done.
And then, last night was an absolute highlight. I thought, This is what the red carpet is like! The New Yorker interviewed me there. I was totally tongue-tied. They asked me what my favorite book was. I never know how to answer that question. I ended up saying Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow.
Ken Cadow at the gala. Photos by Lisa Cadow. (For a more realistic sense of how he dresses, see Alison Novak’s great profile in Seven Days.)
Really, the whole experience was mind-blowing and wonderful. It was incredible to be sitting with my agent and editor and meeting wonderful authors and writers. They are my people. Especially the YA writers. There’s a levity there that speaks to the hope of our children, that I sometimes miss in some of [the people who write for] older folks. You know, there’s a joke among authors for young people that the rest of the literary world treats us like, Oh, we need to go to bed now. Like we are not capable of these heady thoughts. That’s a place to try to make a change, within the literary world.
I’m curious: Did you speak with any of the judges?
Yes, most of the young people’s judges came up. We had great conversations—they had fantastic things to say. Such lovely interpretations and things I may have missed myself. Listening to somebody who’s really read your book, it’s like watching an actor do your screenplay. The reader brings so much to it and so much depth; it’s something you think you understand in four dimensions already, but you’re getting new angles and new slices and new dimensions. Especially critics of that kind of caliber.
The day before, you were at a “teen press conference” with the other finalists for young people’s lit. Watching it, to me it felt like an intensely urban crowd, and here you are a rural writer and school principal. Did it feel that way to you?
No, actually, it didn’t. What was really, really neat was the young people’s literature authors, we stood in a huddle and chatted with each other. There was an amazing camaraderie there that I really liked. We talked about kids, where we grew up and where we moved from. I think I’m the only one who’s not a full-time writer among that group. We shot the breeze and gabbed, and Dan, who won the award, he’s a wonderful guy. He came with everybody’s book, which he wanted everyone to sign. I felt very newbie, but very relaxed.
Afterward, when we were signing books, one kid showed up with my book, with more sticky notes than my book has pages. She was an urban girl of color and Gather resonated with her like I couldn’t believe—it gave me hope I could reach kids with this. She told me there was a line on every page that stood out to her. I had 120 kids I had to sign for in an hour, so I couldn’t talk very long, but that was just a wonderful thing.
At that press conference, you told the kids that to school administrators, they’re just data, and that writing Gather was a cathartic experience for you, because, you said, “I finally got to tell the stories of people that a lot of folks don’t want to listen to.” Could you explain what you meant?
We spend so much time trying to get kids to comply, that’s where our efforts are and our judgment is: on test scores and behavior data. In the book, Ian’s late to school because his mother’s in the hospital. The data show he was tardy. These are blanket policies for incredibly human problems. We’re asked to do so much that completely misses what it means to be growing up and to be struggling.
… Sorry, I’m getting distracted… There’s this fountain with water droplets that I’ve been watching for a half hour, and it just did something it hasn’t done: spelled out Staten Island. (Ken’s video of the fountain below, though not of the Staten Island trick. Just click on the block):