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.
Motherlands
The Turkish-born novelist Elif Shafak wrote this in October 2020: “Motherlands are castles made of glass…”
Banana Yoshimoto and E.B. White Are in Our Heads
In 2014, I wrote a blog post while on holiday in Portugal with my family. It was about a novel called The Lake by Japanese author Banana Yoshimoto, and I used it to explore the idea of “place” and how we both shed and attract certain elements of places where we live. It was my first time in the Algarve, yet I recall being so struck by this jumbled, yet vivid, fusion of places that I had already experienced: The fishing boats reminded me of the Pacific Northwest, the dry pine needles of central Oregon, the unique red rocks on the Algarve beaches of landlocked Sedona (that one was surprising), and the overall European seaside vibe of an Italian vacation when I was a teenager. And, really, doesn’t the smell of sunblock provide intense recollection for pretty much everyone?
Me and Jeff Bezos
The guttural cries shot into my heart via my clenched intestines like a squishy and hard-won fist. All I can think of is my mom taking a can of Whole Peeled Tomatoes (while thinking how weird it is that this is the official name of this product) and squeezing them into the sauce, like a water balloon that bursts stains instead of refreshing water. Convulse, cry. Convulse, cry. I don’t mean to be dramatic — but it felt dramatic.
The Extinction of Irena Rey
Knives Out, but it’s a group of translators trying to figure out where their author — a famous Polish writer named Irena Rey (“Our Author” in their parlance) — has disappeared to after they convene in a forest village between Poland and Belarus to translate her newest novel, Grey Eminence. The Extinction of Irena Rey is written by Jennifer Croft, primarily (until now?) known for her translation work — she won the Booker in 2018 for her English translation of Flights by Olga Tokarczuk. I know of Croft because of her fab work of autofiction, Homesick, which she originally wrote in Spanish. The Extinction of Irena Rey is actually a novel in a novel; Croft has masterminded the story to be “written” by an Argentinian and then “translated” to English by an American. Got that?
Recreating
I’m enjoying a Thai rice and tofu salad by myself. I think Matt would probably like it, but he is traveling so I see this as an opportunity to experiment with recipes from The Happy Pear, a pint-sized vegan restaurant in Greystones, Co Wicklow where I would often stop with my “hill walking” friends. “A lifetime ago,” we like to say. Meanwhile, Spotify’s Natalie Merchant playlist streams through the speaker. From recalling my “discovery” of 10,000 Maniacs in middle school to easing into the softer melodies of her solo career, my mind’s eye looks through a make-believe pinhole and sees a different me. But still the same…you know what I mean. It’s hard to hold hands with a 10- or 20- (or, yikes, 30-)-years-earlier version of oneself, much less give her a high five. But I’ll always try!
I’m an Alum!
I ran by this guy the other day who was wearing a Tufts shirt. I was wearing a “Bowdoin Mom” shirt. (Yup, I am 100% that dork who wears “Mom” shirts from my kids’ schools.) This is likely meaningless to you if you’re not familiar with a certain subset (or “milieu,” because let’s face it, “milieu” is probably an apt word choice in this case) of small colleges. As I approached this young guy, he smiled really big, pointed at his shirt, and then pointed at mine. I knew exactly what he meant: One way or another, there was a tacit agreement that we A) understood a certain culture and were both part of it, and B) were currently situated outside that culture. Then I made it more confusing because right as we passed each other I took my ear bud out (why?) and pointed more aggressively at his shirt and said, “I’m an alum!” probably way too loud. (Let’s also spend a minute envisioning the other people who may have been around who all of a sudden heard only “I‘m an alum!” punctuating the relative silence.)
The Premonition
If you know me in person, have followed me for a bit, or know what I’ve been spending time writing about (homesickness), it will be no surprise why I adored The Premonition by Banana Yoshimoto, published in 1988 in Japan and recently translated to English.
Grey Bees
I first learned about Grey Bees by the Ukranian writer Andrey Kurkov back in June. (You can check out my post from June 27, which was inspired by an interview with Kurkov, in which he said, “They think you cannot mix culture and politics. I said, maybe *you* cannot. I can!”)
Broken Horses
When a book makes you homesick…
Homesick
Blind Date with a Book (Amy's Version)
Homesick
Homesick is a memoir by the writer and translator Jennifer Croft. (She won the Man Booker International Prize in 2018 for her translation of Flights, by Olga Tokarczuk.) If I had to use just two words to review it I’d say, “Mic drop.” (Alternate reasoning: If I were Michael Scott and tasked with reviewing books.) I’m not trying to be glib, but if ever there were a time to use “mic drop” in full sincerity, it would be in reference to this book, a memoir/”real-life novel” with photographic elements. I’m truly amazed by it. (As is the pooch, apparently.)
Homesick
Oh, this one was really, really good. Carmen Maria Marchado’s praise adorns the cover (of course with this library copy, it’s obscured…), and it’s true: If you like her work, I think you’ll like this one.
Homesickness
I’m trying to read as many books as I can with some variation of “homesick” in the title. So, ta da, this is Homesickness, a short story collection by the Irish writer Colin Barrett.
On Homesickness
It’s a beautiful spring day in Boston. Finally! Finally? Everywhere I’ve lived, the air feels different and the seasons emerge differently, yet except for North Carolina — where we lived for five years — spring has never been an “early” season. So I don’t know why it continually surprises me when it shows itself so “late.”
Serendipitously Inspired by Marge Piercy
Story time.
Home, Where My Thought's Escaping
Does one need to leave home in order to truly understand what that word means to him or her?
With migration inching its way to “top headline” status in news media around the world, the notion of “home” bubbles into my mind repeatedly. I don’t mean just “immigration,” because one can merely mention that word to someone (particularly an American) and know that a forceful stream of opinion will begin to gush forward. Yes, “migration” is in the news because of debate about immigration to America and Western Europe, but migration also refers to refugees, a general spirit of “multi-culturalism” (when you’re married to someone of a different nationality, you’ve obviously got to choose someplace to live and make roots), the globalization of the world’s economy and where multinational companies are sending their employees, and simple but gradual population shifts. The Wittengenstein Centre for Demography and Global Human Capital recently released an interactive map showing major migration pathways from 1990 to 2010. Take a look because it is fascinating: The Global Flow of People
