Tired of election talk? Tired of election posts? Maybe a good, thick BOOK is needed to take your mind off things...
Below is my usual recap of what I read in September.
Thanks for reading this month. See you again on Friday.
Tim
*The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo (9/4)
My two posts about this book covered the general cleaning principle Kondo utilizes and her natural inclination to lead by principle. The only comment I have left is a clarification. My feeling is that the tidying step- deciding whether to keep or discard an item- must happen in one sitting. The storage step- deciding where to keep all those items- can happen over time.
*Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (9/8)
Occasionally, this blog breaks news. This is not one of those times (HEADLINE: I thought this book was outstanding). This original point of view is shared by somewhere between a million and a billion other readers (give or take a few). (1)
I did think that some of the writing was extraordinary. Specifically, there were passages that made me stop and think 'I've never read anything like this.' I don't usually think so conclusively (about anything). Perhaps this reveals my own lack of experience in reading
The story is structured around a very basic premise- one day in the life of one woman (spoiler alert, Mrs. Dalloway is that woman). So simple, right? Anyone could do it. Apparently, though, at the time of this book's release, such writing was not seen all too often.
Innovative, generally speaking, is a word often used to describe Woolf's writing. From my point of view, such works experienced lifetimes after the fact pose particular challenges to the reader. What was considered creative, courageous, or genre-stretching one hundred or so years ago might be the mean, median, and mode today.
So, I think a part of me expected that this reading experience would be underwhelming- perhaps roughly equivalent to an iPhone user downgrading to a Motorola Razr. The main idea might still get across but the magic felt by those who understood it as 'new' would get lost.
It did not quite work out that way. The mystery of the Razr endured, I suppose. The longevity, so to speak, of this novel makes an implied point about the relevance of story structure within a written work; no matter how ingenious the layout, the relevant task remains to write well. (2)
*We Learn Nothing by Tim Kreider (9/9)
I picked out this book after I was forwarded an article Kreider wrote back in 2012. The topic was about how people luxuriated in their own worlds of self-created 'busyness'. I thought pretty highly of the article and looked into what else he did, if anything. Truth be told, I was not expecting much. (3)
Good thing I ended up reading this book. A collection of essays and cartoons (though with heavy emphasis on the former), I got a lot more out of it than I expected. The book contains a lot of the same good, simple insight that made the New York Times article a worthwhile read.
I originally looked at this book as pure entertainment and did not read too carefully. That was a mistake. I'm planning to read it again in 2017 with a closer eye so that I can better capture the more compelling ideas.
One thing that I do remember clearly from this book is my own reflection that building something can take a very long time. There are so few exceptions. And yet, shortcuts and quick solutions tempt every day. Creating distance from those forces is a crucial step. This simplifies the challenge of finding the inner source of replenishment needed when the strain of building, optimizing, and living a full life saps us of our energy.
*Religion For Atheists by Alain de Botton (9/17)
This is the second time I've read this book. The first time, I found the acknowledgement that 'human beings forget things' to be life changing (er, spoiler alert).
This time around, I saw the value of this book more clearly. For those wondering about what is missing from the communities of family, neighborhood, or work that they are engaged in, this book will prove a source of clarity. The general thread that ties this work together is that much of what is missing can be restored if we seek the guidance in the customs and traditions of organized religions.
Books like this are very important. For many, specialization of knowledge and commitment to routine are important factors in building and sustaining a rewarding, meaningful life. The danger I see is how such a day-to-day focus limits the ability to connect ideas and topics that are not evidently related upon first sighting. Religion For Atheists clarifies the role of faith in community and relationship building without making the secular reader feel as if they are on the receiving end of a divine sales pitch.
That said, I doubt I will read this a third time. For me, the value of this book comes through de Botton's thoughtful reflections about our communities and his simple acknowledgements of where our default trajectory is leading us astray. In re-reading, I noticed that there is significant space devoted to his solutions.
My reading tastes have evolved (or perhaps I have simply started down the path towards 'curmudgeonhood') in a space of just two years. The introduction of technical details, of know how, is of late the point at which my attention often begins to wander. I suppose the challenge of reading is lost for me whenever an author stacks and arranges the building blocks of truthful ideas on my behalf.
One result of re-reading is that I have two sets of notes for this book. Comparing these for similarities is a fascinating exercise. They further reinforce the suspicion that I've changed greatly in the short time between readings.
The older set of notes focuses on ideas and much of the phrasing is done in a matter-of-fact style. The most recent notes are messier as my emphasis looks at the motives, desires, and contradictions that make building a resilient community one of humankind's greatest challenges.
There is perhaps truth to the idea that the first set of notes took a business-like approach, the second a less structured but more earnest investigation into the truth of the work.
*Daybook by Anne Truitt (9/19)
This the second journal I've read from this artist in the space of two months. However, the timing of my reading schedule means I have read out of (publishing) order, this being the first of three such journals. Like Turn, Daybook balances recollection with reflection as Truitt examines her roles as artist, mother, teacher, and friend.
The stress felt by every artist who loses the balance of art and life comes through in so many little ways. Truitt recalls her own work from times of such imbalance, the resulting pieces skewed out of proportion due to her failure to fully make sense of her own life before attempting to bring order to it through artistic expression.
A challenge for any artist is creating a support system. Ideally, it allows the artist to ask...what do I know?...over and over again, ready to fully catapult oneself in the direction indicated by the answer to the question. Perhaps the biggest obstacle to constructing such support is the constant pressure to force the highest parts of self to serve or remain dormant in the process of responding to the demands of the lowest.
As I tend to do lately, I note a comment about know-how. This observation points out that those focused solely on application of knowledge are inevitably vulnerable to those unwilling to accept this knowledge. The skills required to heal those who wish to remain unhealed are entirely different from those taught and learned in the classroom. What is willingly wounded cannot be mechanically repaired.
An idea I liked that stands somewhat separate from everything else I considered here is how unacceptable it is to discourage anyone showing even the vaguest signal that they might wish to explore becoming an artist. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what type of honest effort is ever acceptable to discourage.
*On Lies, Secrets, and Silence by Adrienne Rich (9/27)
A book of essays from a poet, writer, and feminist whose impact stretched through six decades. This particular collection took her work from 1966 through 1978. Being essays ('prose'), it is light on poetry and, this being the first of Rich's works that I have read, I am as of now unable to comment on the most well known part of her work (as if I could make any intelligent remarks on poetry, of course).
However, her writing makes it crystal clear to me how she forged her reputation as a significant presence in the feminist movement. The theme of oppression felt by women through various societal forces ripples through many of the essays in this collection.
As she describes it, feminism is the recognition that male-created ideologies distort and restrict thought or action. The idea is expressed again and again. It is seen in an essay about how separating lesbian and straight women is a disguised way to once more define women as they relate to men, it is seen in her analysis of how universities prize the skills of roles defined and shaped historically by men, and it is seen in how she points out the impact of the male-dominated medical technology industry on the bodies of poorer, lower class, or racially marginalized women.
Rich describes poetry as necessary because the language we have is never enough to describe what requires transformation. Some of the writing here is jarring but the conviction behind the prose is clearly stated. Without taking great care to describe in new ways what others look at and see as given, the power of mere words to act as catalysts for change is lost.
An idea outside the main themes that I liked was her comment on how prepackaged mediums such as television or the digital screen will, over time, sap the general creativity skills of those who use them. The burden of passing on stories, reading difficult books, and creating oral poetry is taken on by the final product that is idly consumed from the couch.
*What next...?
I never have any idea how to wrap up these 'book only' posts. Oh well. Maybe next time I'll devise a clever exit strategy.
Thanks as always for reading (or in this case, for not reading and coming here instead). See you again on Friday for MORE ADMIN.
Tim
Footnotes / imagined complaints
1. The blog that cried Woolf...
I've read quite a bit of work, both about (a picture book biography, various essays) and by (a diary, various essays) Virginia Woolf. I suppose it was about time I picked up one of the novels that she is most famous for.
My plan was to start with Mrs. Dalloway. Since I enjoyed it, I'll take the next step and move on to The Waves. Assuming that goes well, I'll check out (from the library) To The Lighthouse.
2. Prove you read it, man!
The end of this book was filled with a list of questions for the reader to consider. I believe there were fifteen or so in total. To me, these questions were beside the point. It brought to mind similar exercises from my days as a student. I recalled fond memories of laboring through dull discussions about what I then felt were unnecessary books.
These questions often disguised the objective of proving that one did the reading. So though intelligent conversations were rumored to break out from time to time, most of the discussions I found myself in centered around recall of facts and figures when prompted by the teacher. Perhaps I would have felt differently about what I read in high school if I were challenged to feel anything about the books instead of being asked to process it as simply information.
3. Click here if you are interested in reading the article.
The phrase that prompted this article to find its way to me was the phrase 'to check e-mail I have to drive to the library.' Technically, I don't drive and I do check email at home. But I think the spirit of that comment brought me to mind almost instantly.
