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.
Reflections on Reading, Empathy at Chism Beach
The “read books to build empathy!” line of thinking drives me bonkers … just a tiny bit. It’s a nice start, but what do readers do with newfound “knowledge” about a group/topic/whatever apparently gleaned from a book? I had a quickie trip to my hometown (pics are down the road from my childhood home), and I guess “empathy” was on my mind. What does that look like in practice?
The Wren, The Wren
R.E.M.’s album Green came out when I was in 7th grade — that was my “entry point” to the band. I nearly wore out my tape, lovingly dubbed by a friend, except there were all these whispers about it being a commercial sellout, but what did I know? I think it’s common to have a sweet affinity for the “thing” that introduces us to an artist, musician, writer. Often, we explore the back catalogue and then abhor anything that comes after our own particular entry point. It took me a long time to appreciate that Out of Time is, actually, a brilliant album. (Despite Shiny Happy People, which you know we all secretly love…)
It's Like This... On Anne Enright and What Are You Like?
1961 brought something amazing into the lives of every young girl who has ever attended a slumber party. The advent of games such as “Truth or Dare” and “Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board”? A guide to prank calling? No, sorry, what I’m talking about here is Disney’s smash hit The Parent Trap (in Technicolor), starring Hayley Mills as twins separated at birth: snooty Sharon McKendrick from Boston and freewheeling Californian Susan Evers. The underlying romantic story, which essentially declares “opposites attract,” brings the girls’ long-estranged mother and father back together in an all-too-perfect fashion. The film, marketed as a comedy full of high jinks, was nominated for two Academy Awards, netted $25,000 at the box office, and provided a springboard for three television sequels, a theatrical re-release in 1968, a popular remake more than 35 years later, and the remarkable ability for “Let’s Get Together, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” to get stuck in every viewer’s head. This is compelling stuff, and I have seen this movie at least ten times, mostly at sleepovers.
