Some short thoughts (but slightly longer than usual for a clearout) regarding books for which I won't bother with a full reading review.
Tenth of December by George Saunders (December 2021)
This short story collection is likely among TOA's most-referenced books - definitely in the top ten, probably even higher. It's currently on my "book of the year" shortlist for 2021, which may be familiar to longtime readers who recall its lofty finish in a prior edition (or some of the thoughts I pulled together after reading it for the second time). It also made it onto my "best book" shortlist, which I started working on a couple of years ago. By the way, that "best book" shortlist, maybe someday I'll get back to the project and finish it up...
Anyway, in the meantime my thoughts on this rereading, which saw me return for a second serving of four stories - "Victory Lap", "Escape from Spiderhead", "Home", and "Tenth of December". I went into this experience with an expectation that I would think the most of the title story, but the other three all stepped forward in their own memorable way - "Victory Lap" was a fitting opening story for the way it seemed to encapsulate the collection as a whole, "Escape from Spiderhead" got me thinking about a follow up project that (maybe) will appear soon on TOA, and "Home" left me wondering if the way my perspective has changed between readings was reflected in my reaction to the story. But when you find time on a winter's day to read "Tenth of December", then go outside to walk a lap around a nearby pond, you realize that it's the type of work which will forever sneak up on you anytime something reminds you of its exquisite details - a crack in the ice, a jacket on the ground, or the breath you take as you resolve yourself, one more time, to be a little bigger than you feel.
Orientation by Daniel Orozco (November 2021)
Back in November I briefly mentioned this collection, which is named after the short story I linked in this post (and includes a reference to one of my favorite lines of all-time). In addition to the title story, I reread "The Bridge" and the second part of "Temporary Stories". Like with the other work I've highlighted on TOA that makes a commentary on the state of modern working life, Orientation makes you wonder why anyone bothers to show up to work at all (and in this moment of the so-called "Great Resignation", perhaps some have taken such a conclusion to its next logical step). But I think what becomes clear over the course of this collection is that these stories, though indeed focused in their details on the working world, have an underlying commentary about life in general that may resonate with many readers.
As it so often is the case at work, there is the permanent question of a larger meaning whose answer always proves elusive, and this fact sometimes threatens to suffocate us. The way we navigate this lack of meaning in the workplace context - making compromises to include others, finding moments of light in the darkness, or steeling ourselves to do what must be done - informs us in a manner that extends outside the boundaries of work and emboldens us to keep doing the right thing, even as everything all around us seems permanently wrong.
Waiting for God by Simone Weil (August 2021)
I'm tempted to describe this as an incredible book, though of course I run the risk of implying my recommendation with such a statement. It's more that I have a hard time believing it exists. This collection, which I understand was pulled together after her death from various letters and previously unpublished essays, details a wide range of spiritual, political, and philosophical thinking that have inspired countless of readers and followers over the past few decades.
There were a few notes I took down across a number of essays that resonated in varying ways. I liked the thought that prayer is essentially defined by attention, with greater quality attention leading to better prayer. Weil also notes that the principle truth of Christianity is that looking is what saves us, which I don't know much about beyond considering whether this implies that looking away is our doom. Weil suggests elsewhere that to become part of a mass such that we lose our own ability to distinguish ourselves is a particularly dangerous form of affliction, a result of her time in factory life that left her surprised at times when others spoke to her without brutality. She also notes the specific failure demonstrated by each instance where an accused is condemned in part because circumstances have made it impossible to articulate a defense, stammering instead before the privilege and injustice symbolized by the judge in the courtroom. Finally, there might be more to say to the remark that to be rooted is perhaps the greatest unrecognized need of the soul, but I suppose I should go back to my notes from reading The Need for Roots back in 2017 - or reference a prior reading review or two I posted about the book - before I take the thought any further.
