Excerpt from the novel White Cedar Press:
I could become another permanent member of the Cleveland Diaspora. I might join people like Michael Dirda, the book critic of the Washington Post. Also Jim Krusoe, a writer, in California I think, who had put out the fine novel Erased. And of course at that time in 2011 I was hearing the song of Mark Foster, of Foster the People, every five minutes—another diaspora Clevelander.
I had talked about the Cleveland outmigration in a bar in New York, a year or so ago. It was with another Clevelander; a guy named James who worked for a nonprofit.
“Do you ever read Ian Frazier’s stuff?” he asked me. “His essays in The New Yorker?”
“He’s one of us, too?”
James nodded. “From Hudson. He’s mentioned it several times — it’s worth looking for.”
“What a brain drain. It’s sad,” I said. “What if we were to all head back there?”
“You and I alone would make that town into Paris,” he said.