April 2009 was…

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I can’t believe how fast the time is flying by. Unbelievable. April flew by me on very windy wings. Thanks to a mini mental health holiday I was able to get through some pretty good books:

  • Astonishing Splashes of Colour by Clare Morrall ~ this was fascinating. I definitely want to read more of Morrall’s work.
  • An Omelette and a Glass of Wine by Elizabeth David ~ witty, and global. This made me hungry for really well designed food.
  • The Punch: by John Feinstein ~ The book that got me obsessed with December 9th, 1977.
  • The Noblest Roman by David Halberstam ~ prohibition, prostitution and politics, southern style.
  • The Jameses: a Family Narrative by R.W.B. Lewis ~ I now know more about Henry James and his ancestors than I ever thought possible and I didn’t even finish the book.
  • Flashman by George Fraser MacDonald ~ the first in the Flashman series. Strange.
  • Ancestral Truths by Sara Maitland ~ really intense book!
  • The Apple That Astonished Pairs by Billy Collins ~ a book of fascinating poetry.

In honor of National Poetry month it was:

  • “Table Talk” by Wallace Stevens
  • “Tract” by William Carlos Williams
  • “I Go Back” by Sharon Olds
  • “Colette” by Edwin
  • “Church Going” and “I Remember, I Remember” by Philip Larkin
  • “Why Do So Few Blacks Study Creative Writing” by Cornelius Eady

For the Early Review program:

  • Fatal Light by Richard Currey. This had me by the heart. It’s the 20th anniversary of its publication and just as relevant today as it was back then. It’s fiction but not. If you know what I mean. I think that it’s important to note that I was supposed to get a February pick but because I moved it got lost in the shuffle (translation: I didn’t get the forwarding thing set up in time and it went back to the publisher). Fatal Light is actually a March pick.

Rock Me Baby

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I ask a lot of my friends. I really, really do. Support this unsigned artist. Donate to my run walk. Come to this new restaurant with me. Hear this crazy-azz dream I had. Calm me down. Pick me up. Givegivegive. It’s amazing the amount of love I asked for from my friends. It’s amazing how amazing my friends really are.
Why all this gushing? Not only did the great ones donate to my 60 mile, three day walk for Just ‘Cause, they rallied together to support Sean Rowe’s cd release of ‘Magic.’
We piled in the magic truck and bombed our way to Cohoes, NY. Laughing all the way, we weaved in and out of traffic and got there in record time. Just in time to miss just one song. We got there in time to catch ‘Jonathan’ and get caught up in the electric vibe. Sean sounded great and I couldn’t wait for every word. After waiting for brownies and a monkey-something-er-rather we got settled by the stairs. I think B had bathroom duty without realizing it. Crammed in I couldn’t see Sean but, I don’t need to see the man to hear the words and feel the sound.
After the first set my friend I have dubbed God (don’t ask) snagged spots at the top of the stairs for all of us. Great spot! The view looking out over the crowd was great. The sound was phenomenal. The fresh air from the back door was heavenly. The company was cool.
Wait. Let me talk about that for a minute. I always stress about bringing someone new to see unknown music. It’s always a gamble. I took someone to see sirsy a few years back. Virgin territory. She walked out halfway through the first set and never came back. So I worry. I convince someone to make the trek and maybe they’ll hate it. Hate me. Not so Sean night. B doesn’t know me all that well. Knows the music all that less. Maybe even knows Cohoes not at all. Not only did he subject himself to all that, he survived it all. He had good things to say about the venue, better things to say about the beer, and the best things to say about Sean. It rocked. He rocked.
But, back to Sean. He also rocked in all the right ways. I love the new version of ‘Jonathan.’ I say new because I’m used to the pared down, sparse and folky version of the song. This version builds in intensity that matches the lyrics and the passion. It’s perfect. In some ways it’s even better than the version I’m used to. ‘Trademark of Fools’ almost didn’t make it out of Sean’s mouth. Luckily, the motto is “the crowd is always right” and we got him to get it out. As usual ‘Wet’ wrecked me. Happens everytime. Having the fortress of friends around me really, really helped. Manda, your tissue delivery was well timed. I would have snotted Ruby if you hadn’t magically appeared!

I had to ask Sean for a setlist and here’s the laid back, way-cool answer:

hmmmm. i don’t know if i quite remember
1st set:
duct tape man
jonathan
you’re so real
blue grass baby
draw the line
vincent black lightning
trademark of fools
why i sing the blues

set 2:
old shoes
night
there is a man
my father’s name
the long haul
true colors
jackson
wet

i may be leaving something out and some of the tunes i may have the order slightly wrong but i think this is pretty accurate. hope that helps. xo

Sorry this isn’t much of a review. Now that the album is out I want to sit silent and listen to it from start to finish. I’ll write something more Magic-centric then. For now, trust me when I say it is AMAZING!
xo

Colette

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Hirsch, Edward. “Colette.” On Love. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1998.

 Probably the thing that grabbed me first about “Colette” is the fact it’s a mother talking to her daughter about marriage. The dos and don’ts on love. For a man writing from the female perspective it’s pretty cynical. There is a hint of humor when the mother mentions “one of her husbands” implying she hasn’t been all that expert on relationships either.

Favorite line: “Never underestimate the mysteries of love” (p 84)

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter, “Poetry Pleasers” (p 189).

Writing While Walking

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I set up a blog page just for my donors. I guess I’m saying this here so I don’t have to explain my time there. Aside from the cd release party for Sean (already written but Sean just sent me the set list), I won’t be over here that much – except maybe for book reviews. I think it will be good for me to get away because this walk for Just ‘Cause has brought me to a better place.

Apple That Astonished Paris

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Collins, Billy. The Apple That Astonished Paris. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 1988.

Such a slim, unassuming little book of poetry! Who knew it would pack a punch of powerful words neatly disguised in short and sweet poems? I have decided Billy Collins is one of my favorite poets. His poetry is not pretentious. It’s within reach; a drinking buddy; a lovable troublemaker disguised in a string of words. There is wild imagination (walking across water and thinking of what the fish below see), seriousness (a former teacher looks back on the “community” of students he has taught), nostalgic (remembering a Tuscany vacation), clever (questioning Basque language), humorous (Smokey the Bear is fed up with warning tourists about forest fires) and moving (how cancer is a bad word). Each poem is about a page long or less. Short enough to read again and again. Let the words soak in and open your mind to fun poetry.

Favorite lines:
“…a jaded traveler with an invisible passport” (p 6).
“The evening hangs in the air like lace” (p 13).
“My sentiments are tangled like kites in the branches of her incomprehension” (p 21).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust  in the chapter called, “Kitchen-Sink Poetry” (p 139).

Ancestral Truths

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Ancestral TruthsMaitland, Sara. Ancestral Truths. New york: Henry Holt & Co., 1993.

To be quite honest I don’t know how this came into my hands. I’ve already read one book in honor of National Sibling Month. This was supposed to be on the list for next year, or maybe even the year after that. I wasn’t supposed to read two sib books in one month. But, suddenly there it was and after I picked it up I couldn’t put it down.

Ancestral Truths is a bizarre tale about a woman who starts a journey climbing a mountain in Zimbabwe with her lover and ends it with her alone with an amputated hand and the nagging doubt of murder in her heart. Reliving her days in Italy and on Mount Nyamgani while on holiday with her large family in Scotland, Clare Kerlake tries to figure everything out. Did she kill her boyfriend? Can she live without her right hand? She comes from a large family and they all have baggage so it’s no surprise when the plot gets a little preachy and over the top. Religion, feminism, mysticism and witchcraft all play a part in this novel. It gets heavy at times but well worth slogging through.

Favorite parts: “She was an amputee, a cripple, stared at discreetly and pitied; or completely ignore, invisible in the embarrassment of strangers” (p 10). “‘You named me,’ Joseph once said irritably, ‘not only  after the only married male virgin in the Church’s calendar, but after the only bloke in history who would take his pregnant  girlfriend on a trip without booking in advance'” (p 110). Last one, “Clare had been embarrassed, self-conscious in her laughter while Julia was free in hers” (p 286).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter called, “Brothers and Sisters” (p 47).

Learning to Say IT

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no whining
I had to say no several times yesterday. What a weird concept. Usually I skirt around the issue, not wanting to come right out with not participating. How liberating, how honest to just say no. Not now. Nope. Why haven’t I thought about this before? Why haven’t I dared?

In the case of the work whiners it was easiest when I could look at the time and say we need to continue this tomorrow. My charges? To find out what makes some so damn inefficient. Easier said than done. No Grace under pressure. I had to admire this one administrator. In mid-sentence she was told she needed to be somewhere else. It didn’t ruin her day. It didn’t ruin her attitude. She was able to slide over to a new way of thinking. When I asked her how she managed she looked at me and deadpanned, “interruption is not a word in my vocabulary.” I love it. Word to the wise. Wise up.

It’s harder to say no to friends. I had plans to get together with someone who really means a lot to me. Yet, I need to stay on my training schedule. I couldn’t have done both successfully. It bothered me that the training won out. It bothered me to have to tell her no. After all, she is my inspiration. She is my hero. Yet, I put her off, hero or not. This is the way it had to be. No, I said. I need to train. Her graceful acceptance allowed me to walk nine miles. I got it done because I didn’t give in.

Later, an invitation to chat. Under any other circumstances I would have loved sparring with this flirty friend. He’s quick with the compliments and quicker with the innuendos. I love the sass. I love the challenge this conversation always presents to me. Who can be the most indulgent, the most daring? But, sigh of all sighs, I had to tell him and his innuendos no. I needed a warm bath and a hot cup of tea. As I let the water wrap itself around my tired legs I thought about this new no I seem to have. While I don’t necessary like it or want it, it works for now. For now.

I Remember Church Going

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Larkin, Philip. “Church Going.” The Less Deceived. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1965,

Larkin, Philip. “I Remember, I Remember.” The Less Deceived. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1965.

The beginning of “Church Going” is the most fascinating. The author visits a church (not his first, nor his last) and describes what he sees and does in this latest church. There is a sense he doesn’t quite believe in the place or his unspoken reason for being there. There is a skepticism in his tone that suggests a deeper disbelief. It begins with the very first line, “Once I’m sure there’s nothing going on” [in the church] (p 28).

“I Remember, I Remember” is a little more straightforward but as equally honest. The speaker is traveling with a friend and discovers a forgotten place from childhood. Immediately, the remembering begins. My favorite line is delivered by the friend, “You look as if you wish the place in hell” (p 38). I can think of a few places in my life where I would have that look!

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter, “Poetry Pleasers” (p 189).

Fan Man

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Kotzwinkle, William. The Fan Man. New York: Equinox, 1974.

My first thought of  The Fan Man was what drug induced craziness is this? It also happened to be my last thought when I finished Fan Man. It is chaotic and garbled. To say that I didn’t like it is not quite accurate. I get closer to the truth when I admit I didn’t understand it. Nancy Pearl described this as a book about the Age of Aquarius and maybe that’s the problem – despite being born under the sign of Aquarius, I don’t get the Age.

The Fan Man is also Horse Badorties. He is a slob, obsessed with 15 year old “chicks” he can introduce into his “love choir”, fans (the Japanese hand-held folding kind) and phones. At one part of the book he spends an entire night in a phone booth making random phone calls. At first I thought the obsession with 15 year olds was a metaphor for something else, something spiritual – especially in the context of a love choir.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called, “The Book Lust of Others” (p 33). The Fan Man happens to be a favorite of novelist Herbert Gold.

an omelette & a glass of wine

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David, Elizabeth. An Omelette and a Glass of Wine. New York: Lyons, 1984.

I think when it comes to writing about food Elizabeth David is an icon. Her books are not only widely read, but evenly more widely discussed and considered bibles in the world of gastronomy. For a woman who cooked the way she did, living all over the world, it is no surprise she is still considered one of the best food writers of all time.
David’s “career” in food writing began in 1947 with a frustration. Unable to get meals she enjoyed she vented her frustration by writing down descriptions of the food she craved, “I sat down…and started to work out an agonizing  craving for the sun and a furious revolt against that terrible, cheerless, heartless food by writing down descriptions of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cooking” (p 21). And so it began. 

Probably the best surprise to David’s writing is her humor laced with sarcasm. An Omelette and a Glass of Wine is comprised of essays the wrote for well-reputed publications such as Vogue and The Spectator. While the writing is knowledgeable and professional there is an air of whimsy and playfulness running throughout. Here is an example, just to get you started: “He [the waiter] has been five years with the French navy, alors vous comprenez madame je connais les vins, moi. What he doesn’t connait is that I like my Beaujolias cold, straight from my cellar” (p 42). In addition to having thoughtful, knowledgeable essays, An Onelette and a Glass of Wine is peppered (excuse the pun) with wonderful photographs and illustrations. This was a book I enjoyed savoring one essay at a time.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter called, “Food for Thought” (p 91).

If Elizabeth David was alive and I could ask her one question I would have to ask when, exactly, is mayonnaise season and how can I avoid it?

Broken Beautiful

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I was invited to a Girls’ Night In last Friday. It sounded amazing. Pedicures, manicures, massage, pampering, girly time. Despite the temptation of all those pedicures and manicures I concentrated on another cure. By 5:30pm I was hitting the streets training for Just ‘Cause. I don’t think I can call walking “training” without a little smile on my face, but after five miles my hips told me differently. They gently reminded me I may not be able to finish twenty let alone times three. Doesn’t matter. I’m here for the cure. I’m broken but I’m still beautiful.

The Sunday sunshine saw me out again. This time I had kisa drop me off at the public library. I’d walk home from there. 5.5 miles if I did it right. I’m noticing my new neighborhood. My new town is beautiful but in a very broken way. Bottles dropped by alcoholics who have had more than their share. Gamblers casting off their loser scratch cards by the hundreds. Flattened things. Unrecognizable things. Dirty things. Things that make my eyes slide away. My favorite moment: a young cat peers out from under a sodden, mangled box with worry in his eyes. I smile with conspiracy. Have no fear. I won’t give you away. Stay stone still and no one will take you away to anywhere. We will walk on by. Promise.

I have decided there are more important things than worrying about what everyone else is doing. I watch people become sulky and sullen when they don’t get what they want and I’ve decided it’s none of their business anyway. Instead, I will pour my energy into something more worthwhile. Petty you is not pretty to me. Everyone will be in for a shock. Maybe I’ll get that pedicure after all. In pink. Then I can say I am living it right. Broken, but beyond beautiful.

Noblest Roman

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Halberstam, David. Noblest Roman. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1961.

Noblest Roman is Halberstam’s first book. It is also one of the only two works of fiction he wrote. He would go on to prefer writing nonfiction after One Very Hot Day. It makes me wonder about the artistic preference. Why switch from fiction to nonfiction – never to go back again? It’s like the musician who prefers classical music after years of performing heavy metal. Or the watercolor painter who switches to pencil halfway through his career.

Okay. I’m off track.

Noblest Roman takes place in the south (Mississippi) and is a sly commentary on state level elections and the crookedness that comes about in small, rural communities – especially when bootlegging and prostitution are involved. I found the plot to plod and character development to be contradictory. Everything moved too slow for my taste and while one might argue that is the southern way, I found myself sleeping at the wheel too often. It is curious to note that Noblest Roman was inspired by true Mississippi events. Maybe Halberstam wasn’t that far away from nonfiction after all.

Favorite lines: “He changed the subject from Little Bilbo’s woman because listening to the old man talk about her was almost as bad as listening to her in person” (p 10). Had to laugh at that one.
“By all rights he should have been tired and unshaven and rumpled, but he looked fresh and rested. The campaign did not show on him” (p 49).
‘”I’m an old man, Angelo. Before I had a wife. Now I have a wife and a doctor”‘ (p 106).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter, “David Halberstam: Too Good To Miss” (p 112).

Why so Few Blacks Study Creative Writing

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Eady, Cornelius. “Why So Few Blacks Study Creative Writing.” The Gathering of My Name. New York: Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1991.

Such a long title for such a short poem! Here are the tags words I used for this poem: teacher, education, writing, students, culture, and faith. To me this was all about a growing frustration of a teacher; frustration with his students and their lack of interest in writing. I could almost see the blank stares, the “I don’t get it attitude.” I don’t think this is a cultural problem, but a culture-less epidemic that spans illiteracy and disinterest.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called, “Poetry Pleasers” (p 189).

Punch

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Feinstein, John. The Punch: One Night, Two Lives, and the Fight That Changed Basketball Forever. Boston: Little, Brown & Company, 2002.

Once I learn of a story, an incident that captures my imagination I have to research it, follow it, own it. The story behind “the punch” was no different. What happened on December 9th, 1977 was such a huge deal I needed to see the actual punch itself. Was it really that bad? That shocking? That horrible? I needed to know. In truth, the video evidence is grainy, distorted. To me, there is no way of knowing just how terrible “the punch” really was from a human nature standpoint. Guess it’s a location thing – you had to be there. If anything, I would call the punch a perfect storm. All of the elements needed to make it a horrific moment were in place: Kermit didn’t know why Rudy was charging at him – out of the corner he saw a figure in red barreling towards him. In the game of basketball you are trained to be aware of your opponent’s existence at all times. Rudy was the opponent in red. Rudy didn’t know Kermit was going to turn around and sock him. He was unaware of the danger as he ran full speed down the court. Fist meets face at full speed. Add another element: strength. Kermit was a strong, powerful man. His punching fist would have floored anyone, even if it didn’t have uninterrupted impact. When he hit Rudy, there was nothing slowing either man down.

What makes the Punch such a fascinating read is not only the play by play of the punch and the events leading up to it, but Feinstein is adament about making the reader understand these two players as people. Sports writing meets biography. There is an urgency to make one understand that both of these men were passionate people before they were passionate players. Feinstein carefully illustrates the tough beginnings, the drive and potential each of these basketball stars demonstrated at an early age, including their schooling, family lives and social circles. Even black and white photographs help bring Kermit and Rudy into reality. What is gracefully missing is, of course, the punch itself.

One of my favorite aspects of the book is Feinstein’s casual tone. Here’s how he describes Kermit meeting his wife, “The story of how she ended up meeting Kermit is a complicated one. It happened because of a friend of a friend who had once dated someone who knew another friend of Kermit’s – or something like that” (p 139).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust twice – both times in the chapter called, “Sports and Games” (p 225 & 226).

Cancer Come Get Me

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Carver, Raymond. “What the Doctor Said.” All of Us, New York: Vintage Contemporaries, 2000.

“What the Doctor Said” is about a patient receiving word from his (?) doctor that he has cancer, a cancer so lethal the doctor “stopped counting” the tumors on one lung. You can’t pray but it won’t make a difference. It’s heart breaking and stark. The message is beyond clear. You. Are. Going. To. Die. No bones about it. No hope. No cure. No way out. Imagine that. You are D-E-A-D.

This poem is perfect timing for me. I have mentioned before I have signed up for a cancer walk. 60 miles in three days. The attitude is yeah-yeah another charity. I’ve even gotten an eye roll. I hear the words: So what? Big freakin’ deal. I shouldn’t take it personally, but it still amazes me. No one has asked how they can help. No one has asked ‘how can we donate to the cause?’ They can’t wrap their brains around the fact that this walk could save a life. This walk, this dollar donated might make a difference. It’s amazing. It’s as if the world has become cynical enough to say “you won’t make a difference so I won’t throw my money away.”

What happens when you get a life threatening illness? What happens when you are told you will die? How does it make you feel to have someone say it won’t help you? The attitude is “so why don’t you go ahead and die? It will be painful but just die because I can’t make a difference. I won’t make a difference.”

Drives me nuts.