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.
Choice
“Make good choices!” is the de facto cry of parents. Which in one way is the same as my parents telling me to have a safe flight … of course we all know I have no choice in the matter. My point being: Telling your child to make a “good choice” really doesn’t actually do anything except make a parent feel better via a false sense of control because navigating “making good choices” is sort of this specter that hangs out in the ether throughout years and years of parenting. You hope that common sense just sort of rubs off on them as you model good choice-making, but it’s not like you can role-play or narrate every single situation that a child might encounter. (But of course we all know the general highlight reel…)
James / So Much Blue
After finishing my third and fourth Percival Everett novels — prior to James and So Much Blue, pictured, I had read The Trees and Erasure — I am convinced that this author of 34 books (!) should be considered one of America’s greatest novelists and also that his work should be taught in high schools. (Not everyone would like that last take, I am absolutely certain…) I’m repeatedly surprised at how successfully he can make a very readable book (so much more “readable” than I think people might suspect) completely erudite and subversive at the same time. Not to mention super funny.
Connecting With Tommy Orange
I read There There by Tommy Orange soon after it was released in 2018. If you’re not familiar, Orange’s novel about “Urban Indians” in Oakland was a Pulitzer finalist and a National Book Award longlister. The historical Occupation of Alcatraz, a 19-month occupation of Alcatraz by 89 Native Americans from 1969-1971, plays a large role. (This was new history to me.) It’s richly layered, cleverly derivative — the novel’s title comes from the Gertrude Stein line “There is no there there” — and made me want to learn more about urban-based Native populations.
Night Watch
With any crisis where one might feel somewhat removed, it takes a lot of self-imposed effort to (attempt to) understand what it’s really “like” to be in the center of it — whether that be due to time (a historical event) or location or any other seeming lack of connection with events. I find that bothersome (and I mean that about myself as well), but I suppose that’s human nature. We covet, crave, and glom on to what we know and what is familiar. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
Trust
What makes a book “very readable”?
A Book Prize From Those Behind Bars: Goncourt des détenus
As always, I’m spending too much brain space on this notion of celebrities becoming book pushers. So this NYT article from a couple of weeks ago was a nice change-up. The Prix Goncourt is France’s version of the Booker or the Pulitzer, but in some ways it might be more akin to being bestowed the Oprah stamp of approval: The monetary prize is only €10, but the payoff in book sales is considerable.
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.
Buying Novels in Our Pajamas
The Sudbury Town Crier
For Library Lovers’ Month, a heart-shaped letter to all the libraries I’ve loved before.
Pillow Platitudes: On The Overstory by Richard Powers & Instagram Influencers
The New York Times recently published an interesting Opinion piece called “The Empty Religions of Instagram: How did influencers become our moral authorities?” Well, I focused straight away because the type of influencers that this piece discusses – namely, Glennon Doyle – is my kryptonite. I, a middle-aged white mom, fall squarely in Glennon’s target demographic, yet my fascination with her and her ilk is more of the sideshow variety. This category mostly doesn’t appeal to me – and the questioning cycle of “why does this not appeal to me?” of course makes me feel completely out of sync with my peers – but it’s interesting watching her peddle self-help-with-an-edge while everyone seems to fall into lockstep. If I get too far down this rabbit hole, I (and my heart), get stuck in a cycle of cynicism.
Fact or Fiction: On The Stone Diaries, The Body Papers & Investigating a Life
I just Googled “fiction versus memoir,” even though I know the difference – and I suspect that you do too. My search results yielded the following top result: “Memoir or Novel? How to Decide.” It’s from a random literary agency that hosts an accompanying blog full of tips for would-be authors, and this was one of its posts. I admit to being a little baffled because I always assume that writers sort of know what genre they want to tackle. Do you want to make up a story or not? Ok, ok, I’ll concede that maybe at the beginning of one’s writing days, a little waffling may present itself. Writer: “I have a message I want to convey, but I’m not sure how.” But otherwise, “fake news” notwithstanding, we have FACT and we have FICTION. They’re different, right?
The Better Way
As soon as we have our first experiences with the stage—waiting to go on for a piano recital or a nerve-wracking regional spelling bee—we learn the backstage rule of thumb that teachers and other official adults-in-charge have screeched for years: If you can see people in the audience, they can see you too. With little children, however, keeping away from the glow of those footlights is a tricky proposition; they all want to see, and although they may not be aware of it, their main goal is often to be seen themselves. As for the adults in the audience? Although they may be glad that their children are obeying, it is that lone excited child waving frantically to Mom and Dad whom they’ll all remember. And for those children too meek or too compliant to make their faces known? Well, the audience won’t see what they’re doing until they come on at the appointed time, in the appointed fashion.
To Otto
“And most important, it was our duty to give love to those who needed our affection.” — Grace Roby, in Empire Falls, by Richard Russo
I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I have been, on rare occasions, enthralled by the Duggar family. [ed note: This was written in 2014!] If you’re not American—or if you avoid People and US Weekly—the Duggars are an extremely religious family comprised of 19 children. One of the family’s mottos is J.O.Y., the acronyms standing for the order in which they believe respect should be bestowed: Jesus, Others, and (finally) Yourself. It’s an interesting concept, one that can be taken too far, particularly in a rigid and patriarchical environment. But wipe out the religious overtones, and it’s probably an attitude that most people—especially parents—embody. And subconsciously or not, we do it often: Full car and one child has to ride up front (air bags turned off, of course!)? I’d rather put one of my own in the hot seat than someone else’s child.
Alone With My Books?
Does loneliness look the same in Las Vegas as it does in New York?
Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch: The book left me simultaneously heartbroken and somehow optimistic for a happily ever after—but as far as settings go, her subtle sense of the ticks and tocks of a place, a region providing the backdrop for a culture and for a society, is one of the best I’ve read.
