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.
The House Shelters Daydreaming
Here’s a text I received from my dad the other day. My parents are in the middle of a road trip to Northern California — a bit of a John Steinbeck pilgrimage. But they first travelled due west and stopped in Los Angeles, they city they moved to after they were married and also the city where I was born. They lived in a few rentals here and there before purchasing their first home, pictured. Yet I imagine each of the homes leading up to this house on stilts held daydreams…because daydreams don’t require ownership, just an imagination.
Past the Present
I keep a 65-pages-and-counting Word doc where I jot down notable quotes from books I’m reading. It’s only for library books — otherwise, I’m a write (right?)-in-the-book annotator. (Sorry, not interested in apps that claim to make this process easier, esp if there’s a “social”/sharing component.)
A Beautifully Furnished House
Two days wandering New Orleans, and I think this is my favorite picture? (Ok, that’s not totally true…so many bright, beautiful, and interesting things to see!)
But 2 days wandering New Orleans = 3 bookshops visited. I try really hard to not buy new (meaning new releases) books these days. (This is why I currently have 20 books out from the library. OMG.) But I do like to support independent bookstores, so my new book-buying philosophy =
The Ease I Feel
“And so the days pass. I keep waiting for something to happen, for the ease I feel to end.” These are the words that Claire Keegan gives to the narrator — a young Irish girl sent to live with distant relatives — in Foster. The girl is in the middle of a gaggle of siblings, and the reader guesses that it is the imminent arrival of yet another baby that prompts the girl’s migration from a chaotic home with hints of trouble to the tidy, childfree Kinsella home where she is told to “make [herself] at home.”
Obsessed With Home
Obsessions go hard, I guess. It’s not a shocker that I’m obsessed with the idea of home — and, specifically, that complex feeling of homesickness, which is its flipside I suppose. Matt and I are just about done emptying the house that will be undergoing a big ol’ renovation, and today I came across a box of all my old clips from the Tufts Observer. Here’s the first thing I ever wrote for the publication where I eventually creeped my way up to Editor-in-Chief. Color me surprised. (Not at all.) I didn’t know what I was writing, really; I just knew that my background and points of reference were a little different from the throngs of students mostly from NJ, NY, MA, and sometimes CT, so I guess I needed to get pen to paper to make sense of that somehow. The specter hanging over all this wondering via simplistic writing was my parents’ cross-country move to Washington, DC right before I wrote this. (ie Where is home?!?!)
A State of Becoming
“We carry around ideas of people in our heads, fixed ideas of their character and firm predictions of how they’ll behave, what they’ll say before the hour is up and the facial expressions they’ll make that will unaccountably get under our skin. We tell stories about them that never vary, never improve, then confirm that our ideas are accurate every time we get reacquainted.” – from A Calling for Charlie Barnes, by Joshua Ferris. (I read this book at the very end of 2021 and I think I’d add it to my “gobble up” list too. I’ll share my wayback post about it in stories..)
Truro Dune Shacks
See that little speck? It’s one of the famous dune shacks in Truro on Cape Cod; this one, I learned, is where Tennessee Williams wrote A Streetcar Named Desire.
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!
Memory Piece
I checked out Memory Piece by Lisa Ko because I have an interest in collective memory and nostalgia — particularly about places. In fact, I am currently trying to refine one of my essays that uses those early-days “Remember when?” or “You know you’re from…” Facebook groups as a framework. The novel is fine — not my favorite, but of course that can’t be the standard for every book — but what I’m particularly intrigued by is Ko’s exploration of how technology mediates our memories and what changes more…a person or the place. In other words, when people like to bemoan “the way things were” especially in light of the structural development of a location, has the place truly changed demonstrably? Or as we age are we more apt to feel out of sync with our memories? (Just some light thoughts to start off your day…)
I Love LA
Recent headline in the NYT: “Why the LA Public Library Acquired a Book Publisher.” The owners of Angel City Press — a small, 32-year-old shop dedicated to LA-specific books that are “drenched in nostalgia but undeniably cool” (yessssss!) — were ready to retire so offered up the whole shebang to the local library system.
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.)
People in Their Privacies
So much happens when we’re not looking. We’re unaware, tucked in, oblivious to life that is churning outside our door.
My parents were once discussing doorbell cameras with friends and someone said, “I’ll just say that maybe you really don’t want to know who’s wandering around in the middle of the night.” Yikes, but true…
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?
Keep Going!
“A book is a version of the world. If you do not like it, ignore it; or offer your own version in return.” This is one of those reading and writing quotes that gets bandied around — this one’s attributed to Salman Rushdie. From a writing perspective, yeah, that’s great inspiration and advice. From a reading perspective, eh…
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.”
St. Patrick’s Day with Roddy Doyle
“If you are a writer you're at home, which means you're out of touch. You have to make excuses to get out there and look at how the world is changing.” – Roddy Doyle
Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl
We’ve got another snowy day today, and I’ve been thinking about how snow is often romanticized. Don’t get me wrong: There is something so satisfying about “tucking in” and feeling unburdened by the rigmarole of daily life. Especially if it’s over a weekend; today is Saturday. Somehow Laura Ingalls Wilder even managed — in the rose-colored, made-for-publishing view of her childhood — to make The Long Winter seem dreamy.
Through the Window
Nearly 10 years ago, I read this: “…writing is a matter of examining the world, reflecting upon it, deducing what you want to say, putting that meaning or message into words whose transparency allows the reader, now gazing through the same window-pane from the same position, to see the world exactly as you have seen it.” – Julian Barnes, Through the Window: Seventeen Essays and a Short Story
What a Reader Wants
“That’s all a reader really wants — to know the author better. Even if it’s a novel, they want to know the author.” – the novelist Cecil Dawkins to Natalie Goldberg.
