Archive for Readings

The Best Moments in Reading . . .

“The best moments in reading are when you come across something — a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things — that you had thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dead, and it’s as if a hand has come out and taken yours.” — Alan Bennett, The History Boys.

In a previous post, where I replied to a piece of fan mail, I tried to approach this idea in my own way — without being familiar with the scene above, written by Alan Bennett, spoken by the actor Richard Griffiths. Of course, together they articulate it perfectly, far better than my own attempt. Which is why I share it here. 

Reading really is quite a miracle. It’s forever astonishing and a little heartbreaking how many people in our world willingly deny themselves this deep source of pleasure and solace. 

 

 

New Year, New Words, New Hopes

New Year’s Eve.

I’ve decided that my guiding word for the next year is balance

On a physical level, I’ve reached the age where balance has become incredibly important. I don’t want to fall and go boom. Balance is a skill that can be developed, nurtured, cultivated. There are a lot of simple exercises I can do to improve my balance. And it’s all about hope, I think, a vision for the future. For health and wellness and happiness. So, yeah, I’m standing on one foot while I brush my teeth.  And on particularly daring mornings . . . I’m closing my eyes. 

The other aspect of the word, where different elements of our lives are somehow in correct proportion, is a much more imposing goal.

A balanced life. 

I know a lot of people, myself included, who need regular exercise in order to feel settled. That sense of, ah, I’m good. And onto the next thing. It’s the body-mind connection, how our mental & spiritual health thrives when we are taking care of our physical self. Balance is a circle; everything connects and affects.

Lately I think of writing in that way, too. The lifelong struggle. I want to writer better. I know that I’ve held back, all these years, out of some fear or personal shortcoming. A very deep sense of not being good enough. It’s the devil in my ear, I know. 

Maybe this year I can do better with that. Work harder, fail better, worry less. Because when my writing life is moving, my life feels whole, balanced, a circle. I need to take care of this for the remainder of my days. My new year’s promise to myself. 

Here’s some advice from novelist Lily King, words I found today on the last page of the book, Writers & Lovers:  

“I knew that I felt better after I had written each day. That’s all I knew. What you need to be true to, what you need to abide, is what you hear inside you, what wants to come out. 

Listen to that. It has a story to tell.”

 

 

Three Days in June

 

“Anger feels so much better than sadness.

Cleaner, somehow, and more definite.

But then when the anger fades, the sadness

comes right back again the same as ever.” 

I don’t often talk about what I’ve been reading here on ye olde blog. Maybe I’ll do more of that, maybe not. But I’ve been wrongly erased on Facebook — an outrageous story I’ll document one day soon — I ran afoul of the robots, somehow, despite doing nothing wrong — and that’s where I’d often talk about movies I loved, books I loved, music I loved, etc., along with publishing news from the relentless self-promotion machinery. 

This Anne Tyler book reminds me of Elizabeth Strout’s Lucy By the Sea, another one I loved. Some similar themes and writing style, closely observed realistic fiction from an older woman’s POV. 

This one is only 165 pages! Gosh, I love a short book. I read it in a day and thoroughly enjoyed every page. Tyler is one heck of a writer. But you knew that, didn’t you?

 

A Recent Tree, and a passage from SMALL RAIN by Garth Greenwell

For almost no reason, a recent tree in my daily wanderings with Echo:

And here’s a lovely passage from a book I was listening to this morning as I walked in a wooded spot. The book is Small Rain by Garth Greenwell, and it is extraordinary by every possible measure. It is, essentially, about a man who enters a hospital with a serious illness. I’m 80% through it and he is still there, still stuck with needles and tubes and connected to machines, all the indignities and anxieties, the strangeness and the mathematical inevitability of that world. But here he is remembering something, a beloved oak that fell on his property, onto his house, and the crew that came to take it away. 

These brilliant creatures, I thought as the workers clambered around the trees; these brilliant creatures, they stand up for so long and then they lie down. The oak that fell was dying already, it turned out, it was rotten inside, straight through the trunk. The woman had apologized to me for not flagging it in her inspection; sometimes it takes a long time before they show signs, she said, a tree can be dying for years, decades, and you’d never know. It was beautiful how they died, in the wild, in forests; as they rotted and the wood softened more animals took shelter in them, more insects feasted on them, even after they fell they served a purpose, enriching the soil, they had long lives and long deaths. And there was so much we didn’t understand, the way they communicated through intertwined roots and fungal networks, their huge lungs moving oceans. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine them sentient, ensouled, the only religion that has ever really made sense to me is the worship of trees.

JFK Quote: “If a Free Society Cannot Help the Many . . .”

I came across this quote in Greil Marcus’s book: Folk Music: A Bob Dylan Biography in Seven Songs

I’m posting it here so I don’t lose it. 

Seems timely, don’t you think?

 

“If a free society

cannot help

the many who are poor,

it cannot save the few

who are rich.”

— John F. Kennedy.