READ ALL ABOUT IT
Since 2012, I’ve been writing about books. And the act of reading. And the importance of story and narrative. But, mostly, the underlying theme of all I write is how taking a moment to stop and digest some longform text — instead of scrolling, instead of watching a video, instead of multitasking — can be one of the most grounding things we can do for ourselves. Here’s the one-stop online home for all this writing.
You can read more about me and my work by moseying over here. Want to peruse periodic “essay drops” — excerpts from my work-in-progress essay collection about Homesickness? Here ya go.
My Phantoms
I like reading about visual artists and their work and how capturing those elusive things like “light” and “shade” might be what makes a work…work. And how the work of a truly skilled person differs so greatly from the caricature-ish work of, well, me — or a child who reaches for a crayon to draw a house with a pitched roof, four windows, and curlicued smoke coming out of the chimney. What the non-artists among us put to paper might be how we see and interpret an object, but when set against the actual setting, the disconnect is clear.
Now is Not the Time to Panic
My friend Ashley sent me this article about a woman who, oopsies, knocked over a Jeff Koons sculpture that then shattered into “at least 100 pieces.” This story conjures a lot of responses, which I will first summarize via emoji: 😱😂🧐 They are: 1) second-hand shame and embarrassment (because who else has “what if this happened” thoughts in museums and galleries?); 2) genuine laughs at its ridiculousness, esp since it’s love-him-or-hate-him Jeff Koons; 3) (this is the best one) intrigue about how “the meaning of art” perpetuates itself in unexpected ways. (See to see an excerpt of the part of the story wherein people wondered if this was Banksy-esque performance art and someone wanted to purchase the shattered pieces.)
Lessons in Chemistry and Easy Beauty
Everyone loves Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. What’s not to like? It’s entertaining, it’s charming with brisk storytelling, it addresses important topics. It’s pretty heavy-handed in that regard, but I wonder if that’s partly Garmus’ point since the characters’ one-dimensionality must be intentional. (I really do believe this has to be a stylistic choice on the author’s part.) I decided to read it sort of like a fable. Like how I think La La Land is a fable. (I am a huge La La Land fan! I wrote about it together with Milkman by Anna Burns back in 2019.)
Let’s BeReal
From Newsletter Issue No. 12:
Sometime this autumn, I became a BeReal-er. (I just made up that term. We have TikTokers, so what shall we call people who use the app BeReal?) If you’re not familiar, BeReal sends a notification at a different (i.e. unexpected) time each day to all users with the cue, “It’s time to BeReal!” Users then take a photo of whatever they’re doing, wherever they are at the moment — simultaneously, the app takes a quick snapshot of your face. Here's a rundown of the app from the New York Times Magazine back in August.
Surrender
“A story line is everything.” – Bono, Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story.
The School for Good Mothers
This book made me so tense, which doesn’t happen often. (While reading a book, I mean…)
Unaccompanied
Last month I was trying to read a memoir called Solito by Javier Zamora. It’s about the author’s solo journey as a child from El Salvador to the United States, where both of his parents were living.
Happy All the Time
Like a classic New Yorker cartoon. Or an older Woody Allen film, à la Hannah and Her Sisters or Annie Hall. Throw a Wendy Wasserstein play in there too. If that's your thing!
At the Bottom of the River
I cannot stand winter in the Northeast US. I don’t mind the cold (rather like it, actually), don’t mind the snow (love, it actually), it’s not like I have seasonal affective disorder and need to move to Florida (no) or get a special lamp. Rather, I just really, really dislike the grey-ness and I really, really, really dislike the barren trees that all look dead. “Look at that marsh over there,” says Matt with an admiring tone on our drive. “You mean the one with what looks like toothpicks sticking out of it?” I think. Pass! Sorry to offend any diehard NE’ers here, but well...
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
My journey through this book — the everyone-loves-it Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin was ↗️↘️↗️↘️. I wish I could type out more of a parabolic line, but the arrows will have to do. I don’t mean “up and down,” like I liked it and then I didn’t like it. No, I mean that this novel — that uses gaming as a foil to explore friendship, love, grief, and how work and ambition weave into all of those emotions — so beautifully mirrors the heave-ho of a real, offline life.
Trust
What makes a book “very readable”?
Seven Empty Houses
First book of 2023: FIN. (To be fair, I had literally 3 pages left when I put it down yesterday. What is my problem.) Seven Empty Houses, by Samanta Schweblin, translated by Megan McDowell.
The Days of Abandonment
On the back of this book — The Days of Abandonment by Elena Ferrante — a blurb by Mona Simpson states, “[Ferrante] is the Italian Alice Munro.”
Demon Copperhead
Ohhhhhh….I really wanted to lovelovelove Demon Copperhead, by the beloved Barbara Kingsolver. I did like her much-anticipated novel (very much so), a retelling of Dickens’ David Copperfield. It’s the ultimate “Bildungsroman,” as readers follow protagonist Damon (nickname Demon) from the first line (“First, I got myself born.”) to young adulthood set (mostly) amidst Lee County, Virginia — just one area in the middle of a pigeonholed-for-all-the-wrong-reasons region.
Salka Valka
For those who haven’t seen my Instagram stories in the past month: I have finished Salka Valka by the late Icelandic novelist Halldór Laxness, and it is Annie Proulx’s “favorite Halldór Laxness book” according to a back blurb on this new translation by Philip Roughton and published by Archipelago Books. I don’t think many people outside of certain literary circles even know who Halldór Laxness is (I was in this camp, for sure), so I got a chuckle about how the heck had Annie Proulx (Barkskins, Brokeback Mountain, etc.) read enough Halldór Laxness books so that she could say Salka Valka was her “favorite”??
Foster
Ok. So I should just go ahead and read everything that Claire Keegan has written, correct? (Correct.)
Fleishman is in Trouble
If I Survive You
“We can do [survive] hard things!” (Name the wannabe psychologist who likes to say this.) While I for sure don’t disagree with that statement, I suppose it doesn’t resonate with me (and often makes me feel kinda sad) because there always seems to be a whiff of oblivious privilege involved. While everyone needs a boost once in a while — and some people of course are in seemingly impossible (and even dangerous) situations where a “pep talk” like this might give them that extra resolve — I always wonder: Is this the first time some people have been told and encouraged that, yes, they can get through a situation? People have “survived” (done “hard things”) forever. Feel free to look up the Darién Gap in Panama and the story about the young girl who got separated from her mother there.
Northern Spy
Nope, I still don’t like “beach reads,” but I’ve decided I’ll take a good thriller any day for a “palate cleanser” type of book. This one — Northern Spy, by Flynn Berry — was recommended by @katrinschumann. And btw, I totally agree with her about the title and cover design: Nondescript. But Northern Spy is a great clip of a read and revolves around the IRA in contemporary Belfast. So set aside titling and design quibbles!
The Trees
The Trees by Percival Everett didn’t win the Booker this year — but it did make the short list. And not that I am a Booker judge and not that I even read every other finalist — but it was important and deserving that it was on that list. I can’t even begin to think of another book I’ve read quite like it.
