I decided to sign up for SuperWendy’s TBR Challenge again; I missed it last year–the fun of checking out others’ posts, the kick in the pants to read some of the giant romance backlog lurking on my ereader.
This month’s theme is We Love Short Shorts, and I thought “Hey, don’t I have a novella with a winter search and rescue in it? It could fit the #FireandIce theme for that Twitter reading challenge as well!” Of course I couldn’t remember author or title, but browsing my library brought it back: In the Clear, by Tamara Morgan. When I started reading and found it checked off “book with characters who are twins” for the PopSugar Challenge as well, I felt extremely smug. Continue reading
Well, 2018 hasn’t given us a break from the firehose of ridiculous and horrifying news. But so far, I’ve been successful in my goal of “bookending” my days, and that’s meant less exposure to the stream via Twitter. My FOMO is lessened by the realization that I still know way more than I want to about Someone’s latest words, even though I’ve been spending less time on Twitter. It’s not like you can miss this news.
I’m pleased that I’ve managed to start (almost) every day with a book, even when my daughter started school again this week and I returned to the 5:30am alarm. In the morning, I’ve gone for reading that’s easy to dip into, either a chapter of the romance novella I’m reading for the TBRChallenge or a handful of poems–I read Carol Ann Duffy’s Standing Female Nude and the current US laureate Tracy K. Smith’s Life on Mars. I enjoyed the way poetry affected my morning pages: they always started with looser syntax or more surprising vocabulary. So even if my groggy pre-dawn poetry reading wasn’t the most thoughtful, the experience was doing something to my brain. Continue reading
Over my winter break I re-read Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising, a childhood favorite–starting on Midwinter Eve, as the book does, and finishing January 2nd. I was prompted by a Twitter readalong hosted by the writer Robert Macfarlane, though I didn’t participate on Twitter. On the final day of the readalong, Macfarlane tweeted a message from Susan Cooper, who wrote, “Writer, reader, when our imaginations speak the same language, we can change each other’s lives.”
Did The Dark Is Rising change my life? I don’t know, but it does feel to me like one of those childhood books that helped make me who I am, that speak my language in a very deep way. Such books feel like part of me; when I reread them, a small part of me may be critical, but mostly I feel as if a puzzle piece is clicking into the place prepared for it in my mind, my heart, my soul. When I tweeted about this experience, Victoria Janssen commented that these are books that made grooves in your brain. Continue reading
I started this year reading Serious Non-Fiction for This Political Era (most of which I’ve forgotten) and binge-listening to Agatha Christie. And in many years that was the kind of year it was: outrage and escapism.
But in the second half of 2017, especially, I had a pretty great reading year, both in the books I selected and the online book conversations I shared, grateful for the break from politics.
Here are some highlights: Continue reading
Posted in personal
Kapka Kassabova’s Border: A Journey to the Edge of Europe is an example of why I like to wait until the very end of the year/new year to write my year in review post. I just finished it and I think it pushed aside other contenders for my favourite non-fiction of 2017. I learned about Border when Rebecca (@Ofbooksandbikes on Twitter) recommended it at Book Riot.
Kassabova was born in Bulgaria, which her family left in the early 1990s after the end of Communist rule. She now lives in Scotland. For Border, she roams the region where Bulgaria, Greece and Turkey meet, writing a blend of travelogue, memoir, and history. Kassabova is a poet, and it shows not just in the book’s language, but in what I’d call her metaphorical thinking: the book is full of rivers and bridges, for instance, natural borders and marks of human attempts to cross them. Border alternates short, “poetic” sections with more straight reportage, but the border between these two approaches is one Kassabova keeps permeable. Myth, mysticism and history mingle; sometimes it’s hard to tell if the tale of a border crosser is literally true, if she really met the same woman who carved her name in a border tree decades ago, or just another Zora with a similar story. But all the stories of people confined by, forced across, or fleeing over borders feel “true” in some way. Whether she has met them in a story or in reality, Kassabova brings people to vivid life on her pages. Continue reading