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.
Taylor Swift Has Rocked My Psychiatric Practice
There was an essay in the NYT this week called “Taylor Swift Has Rocked My Psychiatric Practice.” In it, Dr. Suzanne Garfinkle-Crowell describes the deluge of “What would Taylor Swift do?” queries that seem to have all of a sudden colored her practice. She doesn’t see this as a bad thing; quite the opposite, actually. “[Swift] says: Borrow my strength; embrace your pain; make something beautiful with it — and then you can shake it off.” (Side note: Can we all agree that incorporating Taylor lyrics into text is now passé?!)
Just Us / Saving Time
ISO book recs!
Five Tuesdays in Winter
Those who create something are often offering up shortcuts and windows to their soul. Whether it be a piece of writing, a painting, a podcast (or two…thinking of a good friend here!), or, say, an Instagram account, the “creation” in question is an outgrowth of some sort of message, articulated or not, that is burrowed in one’s heart and is in need of conveyance. At least that’s how I think of it, and I know it’s how another friend — a visual artist, and the one who prompted me to finally get this book off my shelf — thinks of it too.
Lucy
I am not really a fan of the “Bloom Where You’re Planted” adage. Do I think that one should “find the silver lining” when they end up in a place that doesn’t quite feel right? Yes, of course. (Been there, done that.) Do I think you can just slot a person into different environments and expect them to simply thrive to their fullest extent no matter what the environment? 100% no. This is the flip side of “homesick” — people often refer to this phrase in a gauzy, nostalgic way, but it also can be experienced as a byproduct of ending up somewhere that just doesn’t click.
All This Could Be Different
“We all have our truth of a place. There is no universal narrative of any city that is also real. Only marketing.” This is very true and this line was a great takeaway for me that I’ve tucked away to use elsewhere. I would say the same sentiment applies to books.
Jayber Crow
I’m not quite done, but this novel — Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry — has come at just the right time for me…
The English Understand Wool
My brain space is [this small] these days. A long time ago I requested The English Understand Wool, a 69-page novella by Helen DeWitt, part of a series of bite-sized books by Storybook ND — a division of New Directions Publishing. The tagline? “The pleasure one felt as a child of reading a marvelous book from cover to cover in an afternoon.” Guess I was really prescient months ago when I clicked that “request” box on the library site because not only is that my speed these days…it also sounds completely delightful. (The Los Angeles Times has called this series “highbrow pocket books.”)
I’m a Reader: Here’s My Response
From Newsletter Issue No. 14:
The other day, I came across a draft of my thesis for my masters program. I have a MA in Media Studies, and in 2003 — just a few months before I had my first child (timing is everything!) — I completed an ethnography of a group of children of immigration in one neighborhood in Charlotte, NC and how their media preferences were shaped. Because of guidance from my advisor, I used a framework from a book called Is There a Text in This Class? by the scholar Stanley Fish as a way to frame my own work. In academic circles, Fish is known as one of the main proponents of something called Reader-Response Criticism. The Cliff Notes version of RRC is that the main lens through which to view literature is the reader and his or her experience as opposed focusing on the author. In the introduction to Is There a Text in This Class? Fish writes…
I Have Some Questions for You
The second season of The White Lotus created so much buzz late last year, yet nothing I read seemed to point to how the entire show was underpinned by themes of “gaslighting” — how others convince us something is true and maybe more importantly, how we convince ourselves that something is true. (Maybe this analysis is out there and I missed it?) Characters continually wonder: Is my partner having an affair? Is this person attracted to me? And — zinger — is this cabal of “high-class gays” (to borrow Tanya’s phrasing) trying to kill me? Or…does the “evidence” just overwhelmingly tell me so, ergo it’s true? I thought this last season was brilliant.
This is Happiness
“It seems to me the quality that makes any book, music, painting worthwhile is life, just that…”
My Name is Leon
Since college (or earlier?), I’ve pondered the theory that there are a finite number of story structures (ie “overcoming the monster,” “tragedy,” etc.)
The Idiot
How in the world had I never read this book before now?!?!
Iron Curtain
Iron Curtain by Vesna Goldsworthy is like holding up a funhouse mirror to different cultures — in this case, an unnamed Soviet Bloc country and England. (But like the novel Beyond Babylon by Igiaba Scego, Goldsworthy in Iron Curtain occasionally inserts little factoids and artifacts from other countries, underpinning the fact that even down to the most basic of things — let’s throw out food shopping as an example — everywhere has its own “way.”) Everything looks worse — or a little crazy — when viewed from a different vantage point.
Remote Control
I’ve been thinking about “active” reading, not just a let-the-story-wash-over-me thing. It’s on my mind because, lucky me, I got some (v minor) insights into student life recently.
The Past
“She’d picked up this book about a doll’s house from the shelf in her room quite casually and fondly, remembering how she had liked it in her childhood, not at all expecting to be ambushed with overwhelming emotion. Every so often she looked up from the page and stared around her as if she hardly knew where she was — but she was at Kington, which was the beloved scene of her past anyway. So her glance through the panes of the old glass in the arched window, to the yellowing rough grass in the garden and the alders which grew along the stream, didn’t restore any equilibrium. It wasn’t only the recollection attached to the words she was reading — a memory of other readings — which moved her. The story itself, in its own words, tapped into deep reservoirs of feeling. The writer’s touch was very sure and true, unsentimental — one of the doll’s-house dolls died, burned up in a fire. The book seemed to open up for Alice a wholesome and simplifying way of seeing things which she had long ago lost or forgotten, and hadn’t hoped to find again.”
A Small Place
My brother recently sent me an article that Noam Chomsky contributed to regarding ChatGPT. Chomsky is technically a professor of linguistics, but really, he’s a “public intellectual” or “social critic.” It landed in my inbox around the same time I was organizing my old grad school materials. I re-discovered the book Is There a Text in this Class? by Stanley Fish, who was influential in the rise of reader-response criticism. (Something interesting that I’ll explore another day!) Anyway, all this sudden immersion in the idea of “criticism” is very appropriate given that I’d been reading A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid for #ReadingJamaicaKincaid w @ifthisisparadise
I Finally Read American Dirt
From Newsletter Issue No. 13:
Remember when a little novel called American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins was published in 2020? It was a much-anticipated work of fiction that was meant to shed light on and give voice to people who found themselves in the crosshairs of the migration crisis happening at the border between the United States and Mexico. Oprah selected it for her book club. Stephen King provided a blurb and called American Dirt “Extraordinary.” Sandra Cisneros (family roots in Mexico) and Julia Alvarez (family roots in the Dominican Republic) both praised the book.
Annie John
When you’re a child, “school” and “family” are the countries you travel between, each offering up a seemingly impenetrable border. I attended four different schools for K-12 (if you count a trimester I spent at a “sister school” across the country), and because none of them were a part of a natural progression (i.e. the elementary that feeds into the middle, etc.), each transfer felt like an initiation into a new nation where the students — even if residents of the same region — were different. Adults don’t necessarily notice these nuances, but kids sure do. School is their LIFE. I’ll always laugh at the line “She doesn’t even go here!” from Mean Girls because it totally encapsulates the “in” or “out” situation of being a part of an institution. (And also because if you ever met someone in a different context, you automatically knew what they meant when they asked, “Where do you go?” No need to finish that prepositional phrase.)
Growing Up Rich
“But isn’t all art derivative?” = a short topic of discussion this weekend with a friend.
The Marriage Portrait
I was an English major in college, but I have not read a text with the same intense scrutiny as I did then since…then. (That would be 1998 for purposes of tabulation and judgement.) Well, maybe I did back in 2019 when I (haphazardly?) decided to read one Shakespeare play per month. I mean, I do think I read carefully and with a critical eye and all that jazz, but it’s still different. Who has time to consider and then write 10-page papers about the meanings and various uses of “the”? (Just to exaggerate a tiny bit…)
