US Tour
- Jen Stout
- May 19
- 11 min read
If you'd told me a year ago, just as Night Train to Odesa was first hitting the shelves, that'd I'd go on a book tour all over the US, I'd have laughed at you. So I'm still blinking in surprise now, a couple of weeks after getting home. It started with an invitation from the Ukrainian Institute of America, asking whether I'd give a talk about my book, in their remarkable building - a 19th-century mansion on Fifth Avenue. My publisher was keen, and the plan was that I'd apply for funding from Scottish Books International, and do a short tour on the east coast - perhaps a few bookshops in NYC, Boston, maybe DC.
That would've been manageable. But of course I started pondering. It's such a long way to fly just to see one little corner of the country. I had relatives and friends to see on the west coast. Maybe something longer was possible... So this one week turned into three, and a whirlwind tour that took me from the east coast over to San Francisco, then back across to Chicago, Detroit and down to Dallas. I am still stunned that we managed to pull it off, and extremely grateful to everyone who helped so much, especially Jamie Harris at Birlinn. The costs involved in travelling round the US are incredibly high, and the grant I got from Scottish Books International (huge thanks to Patrick Jamieson at Publishing Scotland who helped with this) was quickly swallowed up - and that's without needing to cover a single night's accommodation, thanks to the incredible hospitality of friends, friends-of-friends, relatives, and various organisations hosting me.
(Briefly: it seems that people often assume, if you're on a book tour, or if you just have a book, that you're making lots of money. I have literally no idea why they think this. I'm not, of course, and this tour was a massive, insane endeavour; organising it (a million hopeful emails, first off) took up much of the first part of this year, so much so that I forgot to... actually write any articles, and thus earn any money, during that period. Anyway, it'll pan out, that's just some context to explain how these things work.)
Then there was Trump and politics and the various indications that the US government was losing the plot under its new rulers. I was getting strong echoes of the time in late 2021 when I was heading for Moscow, with everyone saying 'Oh dear, what an interesting time to go there'. The messages began pouring in, well-meaning but increasingly stressful, urging me not to go, not to risk it, or at least to get a burner phone, citing numerous articles about tourists and researchers being detained by ICE and imprisoned in detention centres.
This reached a bit of a fever pitch in the days before I left. I didn't get a burner phone - I can't think of anything that looks dodgier, and like most humans now I need my phone to get around cities - but I was a bit worried as the plane touched down at JFK and we shuffled in a hot, airless corridor for more than an hour, edging towards immigration control. But all my interview amounted to was a young, bored guy demanding to know 'what you write about' once I'd told him I was a journalist on a book tour. I told him. He let me through. That was that.
I'd never been to the US before, but I'd certainly spent long hours walking the streets of New York on Streetview, while stuck in a windy dark Shetland winter. (I did this with Odesa too, obsessively, so now I've visited both and can be happy). And I was deliriously happy to be in New York City. It's a cliche, but the sheer energy it gives is so palpable - I should have been tired from the journey but instead was bouncing around taking photos of steam vents. It was a very short visit - just time for a couple of meetings, then the Ukrainian Institute of America talk. It's an extraordinary place - a beautiful old mansion right on Central Park - and I had such a warm welcome from Lydia and Andrew. Adam Higginbotham, a British writer long resident in NYC, chaired the event. I think Andrew Horodysky from the Institute gave the most heartfelt and thoughtful introduction I've ever had. Here's a bit of it.
"Through her empathy, unique viewpoint and sensory-laden craft of writing – augmented by the quiet companionship of her still camera and an eye finely attuned to the emotional immediacy of time and place, meshing the organic and the inanimate – Ms. Stout brings to life the raw, intimate, and deeply human stories of Ukrainians from all regions and walks of life. Forging meaningful relationships and bonds like few others would allow themselves to do, in a world steeped in uncertainty, she captures moments made truly momentous by their very survival, revealing the profound toll of a war that continues to reshape individual lives and collective memory."
What a start, eh. We had a reception afterwards, and I was reunited with some NYC friends and even a Shetland relative from New Jersey. Then it seemed I blinked and it was time to get the 7.30am Amtrak train to Boston.
Except I quickly learned that I wasn't in Boston. It's confusing. First I went to the Fletcher School - it seemed like Boston, but no no. This is Medford. I was reunited with my buddy Bennett Murray, who features a lot in Night Train - he was on the Alfa Fellowship programme with me in Moscow, and then freelanced in Ukraine. It meant a lot to give a joint talk at his graduate school, which is part of Tufts University. In Medford.
Then I went to find my host, a friend-of-a-friend who'd very kindly offered to put me up. Again, this felt like I was still in Boston - but no! This was Cambridge. I found a very cosy, old-fashioned pub and ate gumbo for the first time, which was great.
The next talk in Boston was at Brookline Booksmith, with the brilliant academic Emily Channell-Justice. She's written so much about Ukrainian society and Maidan - check out her work.
Before I left Boston I spent a few hours in the huge public library, a place of marble and quotes and religious murals and hushed reading rooms. Totally beautiful. Also had some chowder and oyster crackers there, as one should.
Then a week in DC, thanks to a friend letting me take over his spare room - and even hosting a private book talk, the evening I arrived. A packed week followed: first, a book talk at the Atlantic Council, chaired by the brilliant Melinda Haring of Razom. They're real pros and produced this fantastic livestream of the event, including my photos from Ukraine:
Incidentally, the Atlantic Council is now home to the long-running Power Vertical blog and podcast, hosted by Brian Whitmore. It was previously at RFE/RL and I've been listening for a very long time - since I was a student of Russian in the 2000s. So it was real pleasure to be a guest on this podcast a few days ago - episode's available here.
Over in Georgetown (once again a separate city, though looks like the same city on the map) I gave a lecture on foreign reporting to Ann Oldenburg's journalism students and was hosted by the Ukrainian Society, with a talk chaired by Professor George Mihaychuk. For all these talks I was dragging round a rucksack of books to sell on behalf of the distributor, so I was very grateful to all the students for snapping up every copy I had!
At the Center for European Policy Analysis I joined a panel discussion on Ukrainian society and the impact of the war - alongside Melinda Haring, Elina Beketova, Kseniya Sotnikova and Uliana Movchan. We had a great audience and it was really heartening to meet so many Americans fully backing Ukraine. But grim to hear how many are losing their jobs, thanks to massive cuts at USAID and the insane purging of entire government departments.
People's Book in Takoma Park (another city that you can reach on the metro) is another fantastic place that made me so welcome - they really love books in this shop, but they also clearly love community. There was a box for donated books, for people who'd been laid off in the government cuts. We had a great audience and slides from Ukraine and it was all very deftly moderated by Amy Mackinnon, a fellow Scot, now national security reporter at Politico.
I didn't really have time for sightseeing in DC but did get a tour of the Library of Congress, thanks to the staff of the American Folklife Center - years ago they were involved in bringing over what looked to be half of Shetland for a trad music spectacular. The interiors are almost too much to take in; extravagance and marble and statues and a million tiny details, you could spend weeks there just wandering round wide-eyed.
The San Francisco part of this plan came about because I have lovely relatives there, who got me a plane ticket. Jeez, the US is big. Crossed two time zones, crossed the Rocky Mountains at sunset, glued to the plane window the whole way. I woke up the next morning to sunshine, lemons, a jumble of gorgeous colourful houses, and some very excitable dogs. Then straight down to Monterey with a friend who runs Old Capitol Books. At one town we drove through, the intersections were lined either side by people protesting the government and its new tech bro overlords - it was a Saturday, and that's what people do on Saturdays now. Almost every car honking in support.
If you ever visit Monterey, make a beeline for Steph's bookshop. She used to work in some of Edinburgh's lovely and deeply weird old bookshops (next to the strip clubs in the Old Town), and the Monterey store feels like a Californian version of that (healthier, sunnier people, but same jumble of books on every topic imaginable).
This was 10 days into the tour and I had a much-needed day off - driving down to Big Sur, far enough to get past the mobbed bits (everyone standing on the same outcrop to get the same instagram picture, why) - we forded a little river, walked out to a wild rocky beach, and both promptly fell asleep. It was glorious.
In San Francisco I'd found a bookshop happy to host me - Bird & Beckett, in Glen Park. The first night I arrived, it was full of people listening to a jazz concert. A really special place. I'd been introduced to the owner Eric by Zarina Zabrisky, the American writer who does such excellent reporting from Ukraine - in particular from Kherson, enduring 'drone safari' and constant shelling. Follow her work here.
Back on a plane. So many planes. Back across the time zones to Chicago. I stumbled out of the metro just before dark, and Chicago hits you like a CITY, a fast mad cacophony, the L train grinding overhead, buildings towering miles above you. It has neon lights and grime and feels like an exaggeration of what a city might mean. I found out, the next day, on an impromptu tour in someone's car, that a whole other city exists underneath the pavements. Great long tunnels for traffic, named after the same streets above - where they film underground car chases.
The city's cultural centre, free to enter, is magnificent - another public library, originally. The walls are decorated with 10,000 sq ft of mosaics made of Tiffany glass and mother of pearl inlay.
I'd come to Chicago at the invitation of the city's Council on Global Affairs, to join a panel with Ivo Daalder, Elina Beketova, and Samuel Charap - 'Ukraine, from Battlefield to Bargaining Table?' There's a recording of the panel, below. I think was particularly interesting in part because we didn't necessarily agree on every point.
And there's a whole lot of photos of this event, thanks to photographer Ana Miyares. I was taken to the pub by the Chicago Scots for an informal book chat afterwards but (probably luckily) no photos of that.
The last couple of hours in Chicago, I raced around trying to photograph buildings and largely failing, and visited John David Mooney, the sculptor and artist, who has an amazing gallery in a tall tenement building. Up at the top of it I met Nina Murashkina, a Ukrainian artist there on a residency with John David's foundation. She was making this, it's spectacular ->
A huge thunderstorm accompanied my dash for the train, which I nearly missed, and then I spent 5 hours very soggy and tired on the Amtrak to Detroit.
The Detroit leg came about because of Cultural Vistas, a DC-based non-profit which ran the programme I was on in Moscow, back in 2021/22. When planning this absurdly ambitious tour, I got in touch with their president Jennifer Clinton, and from that came introductions to Global Ties in Detroit, and the Dallas/Fort Worth World Affairs Council - a massive stroke of luck that made the rest of this tour possible.
A few days in Detroit, as I found a cheap room in Mexicantown, and the city made a huge impression on me. It's known over here for industrial decay, abandoned buildings, the stuff of 'urbex' fantasies. But Detroiters, understandably, have little patience for that. The city is undergoing huge changes - with massive renovations of once-derelict buildings like the Michigan Central station. It it absolutely, absurdly huge - 139 square miles of city. There is so much to say about Detroit. I learned a lot on a tour with Ed Clemente, who was very generous with his time and knowledge - but there's still so much I want to learn about Detroit. Everyone should visit. The music! I went to the Raven Lounge, a long-standing Blues bar, and it was one of the best nights of music I've ever experienced. With the friendliest people you can imagine. I was sort of adopted by them; by the end of the night the manager had announced 'Jen from Scotland is here and she's family now' from the stage, and Michelle and Robbie sang 'I Would Rather Go Blind' when I requested it, and I may have cried.
The book talk I gave was hosted by Global Ties Detroit, in partnership with Oakland and Wayne State universities, and chaired by Saeed Kahn, who teaches so many topics I'm amazed there's just one of him - and other than this I just explored the city, watching the sunset from the monorail - the People Mover - which is such a unique and kind of inexplicable thing that you'll just have to go there to see it for yourself. I met the legendary journalist (that's no exaggeration - she's in the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame) Patricia Montemurri - a fellow Free-Presser! (Detroit Free Press, and the Stranraer and Wigtownshire Free Press, respectively) - and fellow union activist. And visited the Ukrainian church in Hamtramck, where a street is named after the national poet Taras Shevchenko.
Penultimate stop, day 19, was Dallas. I gave a lecture about Ukraine and the book to members of the World Affairs Council there, way up on the 42nd floor. Dallas is a little bit of a blur, as I was so tired by this point, but I had some great barbecue, saw the spot JFK was shot through a rain-streaked car window (a storm came, truly impressive amount of rain) and packed and re-packed my bags as all the flights were delayed one after another (also storm).
I got back to DC to find it was suddenly 30 degrees and humid, which is way beyond my melting point. I was back to speak at the Cultural Vistas spring reception. I'm really, really happy I made it to this, because it was all about international exchange and cultural immersion, about those opportunities for people who can't 'just go' abroad when they're young, because they don't have the resources. Fully-funded (I really stress, FULLY funded) opportunities like the fellowship I was on in Moscow are life-changing. I wanted to thank this organisation for all their support - not just while we were in Moscow, but also getting us out very quickly when it became necessary - and their support for me on this US tour - so it felt like a perfect way to bookend this whole wild marathon of a trip.
In a review recently, Nicole Yurcaba wrote this: "Stout’s book arrives at a pivotal point in American politics, in which Ukraine remains a contentious flashpoint in the country’s politics. The stories contained in the book have the potential to reopen public conversations about continuing US support for Ukraine." I really hope I managed, even in some tiny way, to have an impact on those conversations, by telling stories about Ukraine's fight and about the incredible people I've been lucky to meet there.
