@ Home in the World

Maynard and the Mommybloggers

J.D. Salinger is dead. Well, yeah, that happened a couple of weeks ago, and in blogging terms this is way out of date, but....

Most of us had to read Catcher in the Rye in High School.   I escaped the requirement, but I read it later, maybe in my early 20s. I know it was supposed to be brilliant, and highly controversial for its time, but my reaction was "Meh, big deal." Of course, that was my reaction to most of the stuff we were supposed to be reading in High School*; yet another reason I should never have been an English Major.

I did not like the protagonist, maybe I didn't understand him. I couldn't relate, although I'd known a bunch of Caulfields; kids looking to reject their privileged backgrounds, putting on this tough-guy, hate the world, trust no-one over 30, facade. This included a guy I'd worked with in the bookstore who wanted to be addressed not as John, his given name, but as Andrujar (how did that just come to me after nearly 20 years?), in an attempt to convey some mysterious ethnicity he did not possess. I laughed at him.

That's not to say that I didn't have my own armor; my own facade. I certainly did. And I still have a problem with authority. But to me, from maybe the third grade on, the world of my peers wasn't any less phony or threatening than the adult world. I had more of a Lord of the Flies kind of experience, I guess. And at the same time, I never really got what the punk rockers were so darn angry about.

If I didn't always enjoy what I was reading, I did like learning about the life and times of many of these authors (should have been a History major). And while I've generally ignored Salinger since my first, failed, attempt to appreciate him; his death has caused a lot of that "life and times" information to come bubbling to the surface.

In amongst the hero worship were several, often disparaging, references to one Joyce Maynard, of whom I had never heard. A little research showed her to be the author of a book with the same name as this blog. I'll admit, right up front, that predisposed me to sympathy with her.

It turns out that in that book, she first revealed the story of a relationship she had with Salinger when she was 18 and he was 53. Their period together, ultimately abusive, began in correspondence, but it was he who wrote to her first.

Of course she was, and still is, castigated for violating the privacy of the hermit genius. As if she had no right to her side of the story.

Elsewhere she is labeled medicore, a "chronic oversharer" and "The Woman who Mistook Herself for Someone Interesting."  Her work is not the stuff of the Great American Novel, most of it is not even fiction, but most of the criticism leveled at her is not always about the quality of her writing, but the fact that she writes about herself and her personal experiences.

Reading this sounds so awfully familiar. A few years ago, when hundreds of women, many of them mothers, first took to the Internet to chronicle their experiences, there were so many voices in the mainstream media, often male, calling for them to shut up and go away. As a new mother I quickly discovered that there was a significant element of society who believed that families should be isolated from the rest of the world and not be allowed to intrude on the lives of the busy, the important, the childless. When the women in these families attempted to make their voices heard, they were often scorned, trivialized, and judged. A man, writing about fatherhood, on the other hand, might be greeted as novel, insightful.

In the afterword to At Home in the World, Maynard writes:

It appeared that to many of my critics the sole significant event of my life had been sleeping with a great man. This was disheartening not just personally, but for what that portrayal of me and my story indicated about those writers’ perceptions of women. One day I hope some feminist scholar will examine the way in which a woman’s recounting of her history is so often ridiculed as self-absorbed and fundamentally unimportant. (So often, our stories deal with such topics as relationships, our bodies, the formation of a sexual identity, giving birth, making a home, the deaths of loved ones, the disintegration of a marriage, raising children.) I believe it is a measure of the hostility towards women still deeply woven into the texture of our culture that when a female writer gives voice to the struggles that are the stuff of women’s lives, she is so often dismissed as emotional, self-indulgent, and trivial. One need not look far for examples of male writers who have written freely and with no small measure of self-absorption about the territory of personal experience, who are praised for their courage and searing honesty.

Whether working in fiction or non-fiction, all writers mine their experiences for the purpose of storytelling. When something happens and we are told not to tell the story, a red flag goes up.  What purpose does that silence serve? Who benefits?

So I'm a little disturbed when people, particularly other women, suggest that Maynard should not have broken her silence regarding Salinger. One of the consistent values of the mother/blogger community is those myriad other voices who, upon reading a particularly personal experience laid bare, come out of hiding and say "yeah, me too."  Maynard, as it turns out, had her fair share of those as well.

At some point, I will actually have to read her book. I'm not going to be able to resist it now. When the time comes, I will let you know what I thought of it, though I am no book critic. As it happens, Maynard herself just became the mother of two internationally adopted, older children; girls from Ethiopia. Best wishes to her and her new family.

=====================================

*Except Shakespeare. I LOVED Shakespeare from the word go. Still do. Amazing when you think that the first Shakespeare I was expected to read was not Romeo and Juliet, or even Much Ado, but Julius Caesar.

Laundry Weekend

If anybody asks me what I did this weekend, my answer will be Laundry. I washed, sorted, folded, paired socks, and ironed.

I did do a few other things this weekend, but the two days have largely been taken up with clothes.

Last weekend I cooked. Nearly everything I did had to do with cooking. Saturday, we had our neighbors over for dinner, and I roasted two chickens, made mashed potatoes, green beans with a lemon-butter sauce, and a salad with homemade garlic dressing. Dinner took a little longer to cook than I anticipated because the temperature indicator on my high-end oven got twisted out of whack. Thankfully, my neighbor is Mr. Fixit won't let go of something until it's perfect. He and Piper set to work on the thing. They had it recalibrated before we sat down to eat. No expensive repairman needed. Yay!

After our guests went back home, I picked all the meat off the chickens and made stock from the carcasses. Come Monday, I used the leftover chicken and the remaining green beans and some of the stock to make chicken pot pie. We did not have enough gravy leftover from the roast, so I made a bechamel sauce instead. Pumpkin loves my chicken pot pie; unfortunately Tigger has a preference for the frozen kind they serve at school that's mostly a high sodium gravy with a few token peas and carrots swimming in the sauce.

We've struggled for years with Tigger and his preference for trash food. I don't know how we found ourselves with such a picky eater. When he first came to us of course, he ate nearly everything, though he didn't really care for red meat. Now all he wants is pasta and pizza and if your force him to have a fruit or vegetable, he'll pick apples, sometimes grapes. No veg if he can possibly get away with it. I find myself sneaking chapped up spinach into the pesto sauce to put on out pizza, or making zucchini bread in the summer.

Most of his food fights are really just control issues. Last night I made a teriyaki glazed salmon, which I know he likes, and he refused to eat it because there was no gravy for the mashed potatoes. So frustrating!

Last weekend, when we had the Fixits over for dinner, we reflected on the fact that when we first got married, I did not know how to cook. I had never been allowed in the kitchen growing up and could make nothing beyond boxed macaroni and cheese and hamburgers on the grill (that I was good at). Piper did most of the cooking. I'm not exactly sure when that began to change. We cooked together for a short while, but eventually I became a better cook and I actually started to enjoy creating things. At first, I had maybe two or three things that I did well, the most notable being coq au vin, but over time, my repertoire expanded. I think I really started to get serious about food after our trip to Italy. That trip changed my perspective on a lot of things, but the American style of eating was probably the most important.

Having Tigger rebel at our food ideas at every turn is exasperating, and I know I have spoiled my chances of winning the game by pushing the issue.  Piper is taking a different approach and getting Tigger in the kitchen to cook. Of course, it's just simple things right now, mostly stuff he likes anyway, but under Piper's direction, Tigger made meatballs for pasta, and I'll bet next weekend they'll be making lasagna. The only trouble I see is that letting Tigger do the cooking makes it hard to sneak vegetables into the mix.

I always wonder whether families from other cultures face this kind of pickiness from their kids or if it is a uniquely American problem. We have this wonderland of kid foods that have so little nutritional value. I just can't imagine Asian families or Italian families getting this kind of push back, but maybe they do.

Well, since that tangent had absolutely nothing to do with laundry, I might as well follow that by mentioning that one of the few things I did this weekend that was not laundry-related was drag my family to the bookstore to get some new reading material for the boys. Chalk that up as another thing that is important to me that Tigger absolutely hates. Somehow though, he easily found four or five books that he thought he would be interested in, including two about the person he needs to do a report and presentation on in a couple of weeks - Thomas Jefferson.

Did you know that Thomas Jefferson invented the dumbwaiter? That was news to me.

Pumpkin found a book on Christopher Columbus, and one about a cat in a library that he was positively drawn to. I threw in a few others at his rapidly increasing reading level and we wound up with a great haul. We did not buy, but spent about 20 minutes looking at, a photobook of some of the world's tallest most impressive modern buildings. Pumpkin kept asking if they had spiral staircases, but eventually I sold him on the idea of elevators.

On the way to the checkout I grabbed one of Mark Bittman's books. Again Pumpkin was drawn right to it since the cover artist had morphed an apple into a globe. This kids draws like no one else I've ever seen, just wait until he discovers the miracle of Photoshop.

Best Christmas Gift, Evah!

Or at least comparable to the year I got X-country skis out of the clear blue sky.

I think this is a reading, or maybe a lecture, if you can imagine such a thing. Hell, I don't really care what this is.  As a friend of mine said when Kurt Vonnegut gave a talk at his school "just to be in the same room with his brainwaves is enough."

Okay, maybe this isn't quite Kurt Vonnegut, but still. Fellow Bourdain watchers/readers will know what I mean. 

There is a meet and greet portion, but it was sold out. It's just as well given what I've written here. I'm not sure I could come up with anything to say in person that doesn't make me look like a fawning idiot. I would hate that.

For those of you not familiar with "No Reservations," the show, not the movie, Piper and I started watching it at the very beginning of our child-induced grounding. We've done an awful lot of armchair traveling over the years and much of it has been with this show. I've appreciated the humor and the literary references, and then, apart from the show, I've appreciated his writing. There's an essay in The Nasty Bits about diving off a cliff in Sicily that I won't soon forget.

So this is what I'm hoping for from this "whatever it is" event; for a couple of hours, I want to sit in my chair, listen to the sound of his voice, and go wherever he's going.

Five books I'll always keep

I have too many books. Well, in a way, you can never have too many books, but I have a lot.  I've pared down over the years, especially before we began the renovation. It's a lot easier to do that now, than it used to be. 

 

Here are five books that I've read often and would never want to part with.

 

 

Among Schoolchildren Tracy Kidder

I read this book when I was at the bookstore 20 years ago, and it suddenly gave focus to my rather unfocused pursuit of a Bachelor’s degree. All though years when people used to ask me, an English major “What are you going to do with that, teach?” I always said no.

I still haven’t, not in the traditional way that one thinks of a teacher. Instead, everything else I’ve worked on has been centered around education. I am, as it turns out, more of an education policy geek.

That one book led to an entire library of reading about what works and doesn’t in education. What I’ve learned, or at least come to believe, could fill a whole separate blog.

 

Mornings on Horseback David McCullough

I first read this when I was a teenager. It was the beginning of my lifelong interest in the Roosevelts and my first in-depth introduction to politics. I happened to read it again in 2002, seeking an escape of the real politics of the day and happened upon this:

“…Saltonstall, in particular, harbored bitter enmity toward almost all Republicans as a consequence of the 1876 election. Sent by the National Democratic Committee to witness the tally of disputed votes in Florida, he had seen the presidency being stolen before his eyes and refused to ever forget it.”

Who said Bush didn’t study history?

 

Gone to Soldiers Marge Piercy

The first fiction on the list;  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read this. This book was heavily promoted when I was in the bookstore, but I didn’t read it until later. Not quite a trashy novel, but not quite serious fiction either. It takes place during WWII and treats the experience of the war and the home front from the perspective of at least half a dozen characters. I think this was the beginning of my interest in that era. It certainly helped that I happened to read it around the time that 50 year commemorations were happening in all sorts of places, so there was lots of other material available. My copy has fallen apart from overuse and will have to be replaced if I ever want to read it again. I wonder if it's still in print.

 

 

Crossing to Safety Wallace Stegner

I once read that women’s reading groups were responsible for keeping Stegner in print. I’ve never belonged to one, but I have read a number of Stegner’s books. This one is by far my favorite and one I come back to it often. The story is about a friendship between academic couples, including an unspoken competition between the men. Like a strong cup of tea with the right amount of sugar, the story is comforting and often re-read.

 

The Lost Continent Bill Bryson

My first, and favorite, Bryson book. My first, and favorite, travel writing. This is a book that I have given away to friends and then gone out and bought a new copy. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was my first inkling that there was a market for my sense of humor. I told these kinds of people-watching stories all the time, but I had no idea that they were worth the pen and paper, or hosting fees.  I laughed through the entire book. Given the state of my head these days, maybe it’s time for a re-read.

 

 

What are the favorites in your collection?

Sticky Notes 2 - an occasional series

No car yet. We spent the weekend looking for one. Most dealerships close ridiculously early on the weekends, and many aren't even open on Sundays. We drove quite a distance to check out my top choice only to find that it had been sold 30 minutes earlier.

We are getting enough back from the insurance company to make a reasonable down payment on a new car. That's the first good news I've heard yet.

The Pumpkin's asthma has returned. He had not had an attack in two years and we thought perhaps he had grown out of it. I had to leave work early to take him to the doctor because all of our medicine had expired. He was home today too because his breathing was too shallow for my comfort (the nurse at school can handle his nebulizer treatments during the day, but still). It worked out pretty well, I was able to go through two conference calls from work without him interrupting. This is good.

Tigger and the boys across the street are home from school, playing in our back yard now, as I'm wrapping up here. There's no fighting. This is great.

People collect all sorts of strange things, but this is ridiculous.

The Hunt for Red (Sox) October begins tomorrow. Piper bought me a Tim Wakefield shirt for my birthday. Wake is a month older than me. He gets out there, does his job, doesn't showboat, is pretty reliable. He's been with the team forever. I'm hoping that even when he stops pitching, he'll still be a part of the organization. He personifies a lot of what I like about baseball.

The Red Sox fan club is holding a mock election to choose the president of Red Sox Nation (ever notice that there are Red Sox fans in the audience no what what stadium they are in - that's Red Sox Nation). One of the candidates is apparently Doris Kearns Goodwin, the historian. True, she has written about baseball, but I thought she was a New Yorker.

That's all I have for today.

Low Notes

I've never been much of an opera fan, but listening to the excerpts of Luciano Pavarotti during the numerous NPR tributes to him, gave me the chills. I don't think you have to be an opera fan to appreciate that kind of power and emotion.

But all that singing drowned out the news that Madeline L'Engle also died Thursday. She was a favorite author of mine and one of the few I have met. She came to do a reading/signing at our tiny little local bookstore several years ago at the request of someone who spent summers here, but knew her in Manhattan. I remember cutting an evening class I was taking at the time to attend the event. It was a magical October evening, the room was compeletely packed, and I was impressed at how encouraging she was of the children in the audience, many of whom expressed a desire to be a writer.  How lucky I would have been to meet her at age 10.

As a teenager, It took me a couple of readings to get the full message of A Wrinkle in Time, but as the oldest and perhaps least secure child with an unbreakable father-daughter bond (even in death), I saw a lot of myself in Meg. I also got my first memorable glimpse of a working mother in Mrs. Murray, conducting experiments in an at-home lab and cooking over a bunsen burner.

But I came to really know L'Engle as an adult through her Crosswicks Journal series, named after her home in Connecticut. In them, she shared her experiences trying to get published, her experiences raising a family while trying to write, and minding a general store with her husband Hugh Franklin, her life after losing her mother, and then her husband, and reflections on her relationship with God.

It is not mentioned in the New York Times tribute and barely in the Washington Post, but she is often referred to as a Christian mystic; someone who has experienced God. It was L'Engle's writings that persuaded me to try the Anglican/Episcopal Church when I was looking for somewhere more welcoming of my humanity than the Catholic Church. 

Her relationship with God was not without its struggles, and although I have read many, many of her spiritual explorations, it is this quote from the first Crosswicks Journal, A Circle of Quiet that sticks in my mind and best defines my own journey:

"...I really and truly believe in God with all kinds of doubts."

Thank you Madeline, for being so gracious, for sharing your struggles as a writer, mother, and believer.

___________________________________

An older, but more complex discussion of Madeline L'Engle can be found at Half Changed World.

103

I'll confess to being a Sitemeter junkie. Not so much for the hit count, which is never that high, but more for the locations the vistors have come from and what links or searches brought them here. Last night though, I opened the page and saw a number for the day that I had never seen before: 103. Wha-- Something must have happened.

Well, It turns out that Vodkarella nominated me for a Perfect Post award for Bad Words, a post I wrote a few days ago about labels. Wow! That's the magic of writing, you just never know who is going to read what you put out there and how they will react. Here is the rest of the list of award winners with some really good reads among them.

Thank you. I'm honored and I promise to share the wealth soon.

The Basic Art of Italian Cooking - a recipe novel

I loved my trip to Italy and I am dying to get back there. I also really love Italian cooking. Naturally I jumped at the chance to interview Maria Liberati for her virtual book tour

Lisse: Would you give us a bit of background on the The Basic Art of Italian Cooking and why it was written the way it was.

Maria Liberati:  My book is a recipe novel and is not just a cookbook. It includes stories about my life in a small town in the mountains of Italy.I wanted to make people not only be able to cook the recipes  and to taste the food, but smell the air and meet the people that live in the places I write about. Sort of a vacation in a bookI wanted the book to be not only for cooks but for others that have an interest in food, travel and culture. I have always felt that the beauty and allure of Italian food is not just the food itself, but the way that you enjoy the food with family and friends. So I wanted to give my readers that experience.

I have also made a ‘marriage’ between art and food (two of my favorite things)- as I mentioned colors and style of food as it relates to fashion but there is also a marriage between art and food. The preparation of food is an art. You should take as much care in preparing your food as you would in creating a work of art. Beginning with your trip to the market, selecting the fresh foods, to the preparation and serving of the foods- all the steps to create your simple masterpiece. No mater how simple the dish is- make it your work of art. This is what led me to the title of The Basic Art of Italian Cooking for the cookbook series and the cooking method.

The recipes are all special, wonderful, delicious foods but recipes are presented in a way that any level cook can master. The recipes are all straightforward and authentic as well. They follow the ‘slow food’ way of cooking and eating-reminiscent of the slow food method that began in Europe and has finally made its way over to the US

The book has only been out for under a year and has already developed a cult following of ‘foodies’ that get it- making ‘good for you foods’ in an old fashioned, uncomplicated way. Meals that you can share with family and friends and create special memories of your own with.

So many of us cherish recipes from our parents or grandparents. Can you tell us about your experience with cooking as a family ritual/family tradition?

ML: My favorite recipe is Fresh Fruit Macedonia, my grandmother always made this as an ending to every dinner. And I love fresh fruit and just can’t finish a meal without having a piece of fruit for dessert-so I am thankful for my grandmother and my mom for getting me in the habit of eating fresh fruit after dinner.

When I was growing up, and it wasn’t in vogue to have an extremely sounding ethnic name-like Maria Liberati or eat meals and dishes that they do in Italy- I was always fascinated by the things my grandparents did and couldn’t figure out why we did these things but my classmates in elementary school were doing ‘normal things’-like having apple pie for dessert and I would talk about having this wonderful fresh fruit type salad or Macedonia for dessert. So I always stuck out-whether I liked it or not-whether it was my very ethnic name or doing things that seemed foreign to my all American suburban classmates- like bringing Italian style pannini’s for lunch to school instead of bologna and cheese on white bread and Italian homemade cookies instead of the prepackaged lunch cakes.

Anyway, this is a really healthy recipe, perfect for summer picnicsYou can mix any fruits you want in it- but fresh fruits are best and organic are even better. With summer fruits like berries and melons and peaches it makes a great, refreshing summer picnic dessert. In winter you can also enjoy a mix with fresh apples, pears, kiwi, bananas, etc as well. The most important ingredient in this simple recipe is the lemon. Lemon is a natural food enhancer. It enhances the flavor of the fresh fruits. You can also accompany this with a small scoop of vanilla gelato or ice creamThis recipe is on page 100 of The Basic Art of Italian Cooking, (copyright 2005-2006, art of living ,PrimaMedia,Inc.) it also includes a story about Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house.

Fresh Fruit Macedonia

(you can substitute other fresh fruits that are in season)

strong>*1 ½ cups fresh strawberries-hulled and halved

*1 cup fresh blueberries

*3 nectarines

*3 peaches

*2 bananas (peeled and cut into ¼ inch round pieces

*1 fresh cantaloupe with skin and seeds removed and cut into ¼ inch cubes

*Juice of one fresh lemon (seeded)-preferably organic

<

*3tbsps to ¼ cup sugar or brown sugar (dependent upon your taste-fruit should already be sweet, so you should not need a lot of sugar to enhance it only to counteract the tart taste of lemon juice)

*Fresh mint leaves for garnish

Combine all fruits cut as directed in a decorative bowl. Cut lemon in half, squeeze both halves of lemon on top of fruit eliminating seeds. Sprinkle sugar on top. Stir fruit gently, so that lemon juice and sugar coat each piece. Place two lemon halves on top of fruit, cover bowl and place in refrigerator for 2 hours to marinade. Serve in serving dishes and top with fresh mint leaves.

To me, cuisine is part of cultural understanding. When one travels, it's important not just to eat "tourist food" or the American breakfasts I saw advertised around Rome and Venice - try something new....

ML: When you go to Italy (not just Rome) the saying of ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’ could not ring more true or have more meaning. When I first began going to Italy, I began understanding the true meaning of that saying. To really experience the true Italian culture and flavors you need to also eat the true authentic way of the region you are in. It is not really Italian food but each region has really their own specialty. This is why Sophia Loren will tell you that she is Neapolitan (from Naples) and not just Italian. So if you go to places that say ‘we serve American breakfasts or we cater to tourists.-you sure not to find any local specialties. And local specialties will be produced in a fresh authentic way. And always be sure to eat at places that cater to the locals not to tourists. In Rome, one of my favorite neighborhoods for a Sunday stroll is Trastevere. If you go there you will find this wonderful place that produces fresh pizza and bread. It is called La Ranella. Just ask anyone in that neighborhood where La Ranella is and they will tell you. Or you can follow your nose and the smell of freshly baked bread-that is how we found it. The pizza gives you a taste of the pizza you traditionally should find in Rome. In Venice, it is a bit more difficult to find local places because it has become so much of a tourist mecca that many of its’ long time residents have moved out. However, if you want to go to a good restaurant, look for places that are recognized by the slow food association. They have to cook the foods in the authentic way and use fresh ingredients.

Can you tell us about a part of Italy that not many people get to that shouldn't be missed?  You know, for my next trip.

ML: I just did an article for the San Francisco Chronicle on this- Abruzzo is the region that is near and dear to my heart. My family originates from this region. It is about 40 minutes East of Rome and is wonderful we have the mountains and to another side of the region we have seaside resorts. It is one of the last ‘untouristy’ places left in Italy. There are many regulations that will not allow the tearing down of national parks in that region and there is the National Park of Abruzzo -which is really beautiful. We also have the Gran Sasso Mountains, where you will find some of the highest mountains in Italy and has a beautiful skiing resort. One of our main cities is L’Aquila, it is famous for having 100 churches and they have a famous festival that still continues from 700 years ago. It is a medieval festival called Il Perdonanza. It was started by the Pope at that time- and was done to try to make peace in the rest of the world and bring all of the nations at that time together by attempting to pardon some for their past wrongdoings and encouraging them to start anew and ‘turn over a new leaf’ –an idea that is ay ahead of its’ time. Last year I was invited to walk in the procession that starts at one end of the city and ends up at the famous Basilica de Collemaggio (which has been written up in many art books). The parade included reps. from many of the government of the different regions in Italy other Italian celebs, politicians and others. But there are so many people dressed like medieval times and you really feel like you are experiencing the medieval times. I have photos and stories on my blog and website about this (www.marialiberati.com)

There are also so many wonderful foods special to the region. If you go to L’Aquila be sure to visit the coffee bar called Fratelli Nurzia-it has been there since the late 1800’s and they still produce this chocolate covered candy the yare famous for called Torrone. Be sure to get a Café torronato-which includes one of these delights mixed into your espresso and topped with whipped creamI must admit that I have forced my fiancé to drive me there (I Live about 40 minutes from here) sometimes just to have this. It is more than just a drink-it is truly a wonderful experience- the European chocolate they use in the candy really enhances the flavor of the espresso-mmmm!! There are also many restaurants in L’Aquila that will tell you on their menu where the foods that they used are produced locally-the wines, the produce, olive oil, bread, etc.

Those are the kinds of restaurants to go to. There are also great little out of the way pizza places you can find in the little ‘nooks and crannies’ and alleyways as you walk around.

Thank you. I can't wait!

Maria Liberati's book, The Basic Art of Italian Cooking is available through her website. Portions of the proceeds of the book sales raised through the book tour will benefit Gilda’s Club,  a worldwide nonprofit organization that provides support to cancer victims.

So it goes....

I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center.

-Kurt Vonnegut

Updated to add that having spent part of the weekend blogsurfing, and I'm just amazed at the impact he and his writing had on so many. And I remembered the words of a friend who went to hear him speak when he was in college - "I was this close to Kurt Vonnegut's brainwaves!"

Bookmarks

We're cleaning out the room we used for storage during the construction and doing a lot of sorting, tossing and consolidating. Eventually that room will be my office and I can stop working at the dining room table. It holds the last collections of things we do not know what to do with; like two bins of clothes I had as a child, but will clearly not be using for my kids. I am holding on to them in case my sister has a girl. The other big thing in there is the books.

I wound up having to unpack the books because the boxes were too heavy and awkward to carry up the folding stairs to the attic. My library says a lot about me. That's probably true of anybody, but as I went through the boxes I could see laid out before me, a catalog of my previous interests and obsessions. There was the Nancy Drew collection from childhood, the Thomas Hardy and D. H. Lawrence books from college, the Celtic myths and legends collection from the time when I was seriously into the fantasy genre of writing, the education and educational policy books from the time I wanted to be a teacher, the books on Russia, the adoption books, the books on the Roosevelts, and WWII, and most recently, the travel writing.

When I develop an interest in something, the first thing I do is grab a book on the subject. Not just one book, but several. Maybe I'd get through a few of the titles, and with the others, I'd feel that by  just having them on the shelves they'd impart their knowledge to me. Sometimes too, the collections represented an absence in my life; the belief that when that absence was finally filled, it would be as if I already had years of experience behind me.

For the first time I was able to weed out and let go of some of these obsessions, acknowledging to myself that with all that I had on my plate, it would be highly unlikely that I would get to them, and in some cases they were no longer a part of who I was. A good friend once taught me to eliminate distractions, and it took me a little while to figure out that he wasn't just talking about TV or the Internet. My interests were so vast and varied that I was rarely able to pick one and do anything constructive with it. Well, now I had to face the fact that I was never going to write that fantasy novel, and that I didn't really read them that much anymore either (with a few notable exceptions). I was probably not going to teach at the K-12 level, so many of those books would have to be weeded through.

And while I was doing this, I came across a bookmark. I can't even remember what book it was in, but it was one of those laminated, tassled, numbers with the cutesy saying on it. It was reminiscent of middle school; something you'd find tucked in a Judy Blume book. I was trying think how it got there. I can't imagine buying it. Clearly it came from the bookstore, and that meant I hadn't cracked open that particular book in over 10 years.

My reading patterns have changed since the kids came along. I used to have several books going at once, and I still do, but it takes me longer to get through them. I need the bookmarks now, because there is often so much time between the last time I opened the book and the next, that I have no idea where I left off. I'm reading Of Human Bondage and Italian Days now, and there are sections of each I must have read a dozen times. The books wind up all over the house now, because a few minutes snuck away to read mean that I wind up dragging the book with me when a fight erupts. And so interrupted, I completely forget what I was doing and move on to something else, leaving the book at the now abandoned scene of the crime.

When the children are at school, reading feels like an incredible indulgence. If I am not working on a paid project, I should be writing, or cleaning, or looking for my next project. The only remaining magazine subscriptions are National Geographic Travel and Fast Company, which I typically read cover to cover. I am three issues behind right now. It is hard to finish even the shortest of articles. When my children watched Caillou, I used to laugh at the scenes that had the mother sitting in the living room reading quietly while her four- and two year olds were elsewhere in the house. Like that ever happens.

My reading is like my life - pulled in so many different directions by competing demands and my own interests. What with blogging and reading so many blogs, I have less time for physical books and a greater need for those bookmarks.

In my local Starbucks, a place now littered with non-coffee related marketing, I recently grabbed a bookmark from one of their displays. Looking at it later I realized it was embedded with wildflower seeds, and meant to be planted. Such a neat idea! The bookmark is now tucked into a copy of yet another book I'm in the middle of, one I hope to review here.

Assuming I ever finish it.