Sushi, Queen Elizabeth’s Spine, and Becoming One with My Car

Creative non-fiction, Humor, Inspiration, Life and Other Existential Problems, Month in Review, Parenting, Poetry, Recommendations, Under 750, Writing, Writing process

A Scrawl of April Delights and Wonders

April, that slippery trickster, played peekaboo with my sanity and my word count, yet here I am, wrestling it all into a monthly wrap-up blog post.

The dungeon of delights I toss stuff into (i.e. a crummy little computer file called “Cool Stuff!”) is ever-burgeoning. 

I also have a file called “Can You Believe This Shit?”, a cavernous pit of my more epic fails — those are usually what I serve up here once I’ve pulled my face out of the mud of life, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of my own clumsiness. But let’s sidestep the slapstick for a moment, shall we? 

Here are some splashes of the marvelous from April 2024 :

  • I got to hear author Julie Otsuka (of When the Emperor Was Divine, among other gems) speak at an event. She talked about the musicality of her prose as a guiding force. It was revelatory to me as a writer, who gets so worried about writing well that sometimes I forget about writing with beauty and whimsy and lyricism. The Swimmers is next on my list to read.
  • How lovely is this piece about the creative seasons by Austin Kleon? (peek here).
  • Ever feel like you’re in someone else’s movie (picture of definition of “idiot plot”) and it was a movie written by a coked-up background muppet whose Mahna Mahna has slipped off its cracker? I mean…
  • I’d absolutely demolish Le Crookie, a sinfully delightful pastry mishmash taking Paris by storm. (Feast your eyes on this madness).
  • It was my daughter’s birthday on April 8. We told her we moved heaven and earth for her, and that’s cool and all, but don’t expect that every year, kid.
  • Having kids has completely reshaped my understanding of time, especially when there are milestones. It’s like living in a real-world example of relativity: they’re at once newborns, teens, young adults, and everything in between, while I just steadily decay.
  • And then the routine chaos: proms, concerts, sporting our way through life. The husband and I morphed into glorified chauffeurs, hauling our offspring hither and yon.
  • Our sports pilgrimage included track meets in Arctic temps and baseball games called by some marvelously colorful umpires — can you say, “turkey, chicken, duck”? Because one umpire sure could every time there was a foul. Games and meets are long, is what I’m saying, and I have a lot of time to enjoy things like that. Except for the Arctic temps.
  • My bookshelves are screaming under the weight of an ever-expanding TBR pile. So many books, so little time (and this doesn’t help).
  • While I’m shedding no tears — except for the workers affected — over Oberweiss flirting with bankruptcy, I’m totally drooling over Jeni’s ice cream (I mean, have you tried it?). If I indulged as often as I’d like, I’d be experiencing regular cardiac events while living in a cardboard box — but what a sweet, sweet home it would be.
  • Discovered joy with my husband at a new sushi joint that actually knows what spicy means. It’s our new “our place,” because let’s face it, my usual place is inside my own head. It’s cluttered in there and there’s no sushi.
  • Kudos to The Crown for reminding me why posture matters (thanks, scoliosis). Also I AM WELL AWARE OF HOW BEHIND I AM. I DO NOT OFTEN HEAR THE ZEITGEIST OVER THE SOUNDS OF LOCAL LEAF BLOWERS.
  • Hat tip to Redditor thewelfarestate who, in a thread about not (over)using adverbs in writing, said, “Adverbs killed my father… meanly.” 
  • This is also good writing advice:
  • Dove into k.d. lang’s “Constant Craving” and “Hallelujah” on repeat because her voice cools the burn of a world that can get too loud and cruel.
  • And not to bury this or anything, but this happened a couple of days ago. More next month.

(and also, I love this flavor, in case you’re wondering. And this one. And this one. And this one. Also this. And I cannot forget this.)

May we all come into the peace of wild things.

And may we wild things bring peace to you.

Suburbialis Clangum: A Melodic Guide to Your Neighborhood Wilderness

Humor, Life and Other Existential Problems, Under 750, , , ,

Nature May Abhor a Vacuum but Suburbia Sure Loves a Leaf Blower.

In the verdant suburban sprawl, the uninitiated masses vainly search for the quaint silence once celebrated in pastoral myths — charming, perhaps, to those with less refined tastes. The modern sophisticate, however, appreciates the richness offered by the incessant, blaring symphonies of human achievement. Why pine for the whisper of wind when one can revel in the roar of an arsenal of machinery running day or night (or both!)? Here, in these cultivated fields of progress, the glorious din of civilization justly overrules the silence sought by the hoi polloi. This sonic landscape is not for those unfortunates who crave a rough-hewn quietude, but rather for the discerning citizen who understands that true progress resonates through the hum of industry. The air simply must crackle with the sounds of civilization’s upkeep, the resounding overture of spring.

Continue reading Suburbialis Clangum: A Melodic Guide to Your Neighborhood Wilderness →

The Folio – What I Read Mid-March Through April 2024

Book Review, Books, Reading, The Folio, , , ,

It’s All About the Transformation!

Oh, the twitchy weirdness of not blasting this out the second March ended. Of course, I’m the only weirdo policing the time boundaries of my own monthly book roundups. What can I say? I like the snap of “March Reads” better than the soggy “What I Read March Through Mid-April 2024.” 

But here we are, and this is how it’s going to be for a while and now I’m uniquely positioned as a mid-month book yammerer. 

Market niches, folks.

In the last five weeks or so, I’ve completed seven books.

Ahem.

I was set to roll out an unremarkable apologia, a grand harangue about life and reading and such.

Mad busy, that’s me.

A grand self-flogging, agonizing about feeling like a fraud for not being able to “keep up.” As if I’m somehow a slacker in the sacred arts of wordcraft and self-betterment.

I might have even gifted you this.

Then I’d pivot, launch a counter-offensive on myself, get all gooey about the bliss of slow reading and how my own calendar is stuffed to the gills and my body is drafting strike plans.

I had all sides of this covered and an abundance of gems like “my relationship with reading has evolved” and “joy of discovery.” Flowcharts, highfalutin words, and not a few huffs and puffs.

But there’s something to be said for not doing that.

Let’s just get to the books in some particular order or other:

These Precious Days by Ann Patchett

Ann Patchett excels at weaving tales loosely enough to let them breathe but tightly enough to make them work. Patchett’s explorations of love, loss, and friendship are patient, never slow. She once again pulls, surgically, from the everyday and it is glorious to look at how life squiggles under her microscope

I loved “Three Fathers” (which you can read here). There was a section about one of the fathers whose writing talent, perhaps, did not rise to the level of his eagerness, his effort, or his output. It was a good reminder to her (and me) that when we ask people to read our work, we ask them to give us their time. And time is a gift sometimes more precious than feedback.

I adored “A Talk to the Association of Graduate School Deans in the Humanities,” because it was about life in/of the Humanities. Bookstore Ownership! Theater Attendance! Staged readings of Our Town in the living room. Reading! Community! Oh, how I want all of that. Next, life, I suppose.

“Contrary to popular belief, love does not require understanding in order to thrive.” — Ann Patchett

The Best American Essays 2022, Alexander Chee Editor)

This collection is a child of the pandemic. Each essay, no matter the theme, has an undercurrent of wearing a path in the carpet from pacing back and forth. The collection prowls and lies in wait. 

As with any anthology, you will love some pieces more than others, but trust me, something will snag you, whether you’re reading as a fan or a scribe. Sublime craftsmanship. 

From Chee’s introduction on sense memories and writing: “Was the writing wet? Could you feel the rain, the blood, the tears?” 

Standouts for me were “Abusement,” “Ghosts,” and “China Brain.”

You’ve Got a Book in You by Elizabeth Sims

Every month I try to read a craft book or two. Sometimes I come across texts that are lush and gorgeous. Other times I come across things that are practical and fresh. This is more the latter, but there are dabs of the former.

I’m adding this to my I-only-need-to-lean-over-and-grab-it shelf. 

It’s full of solid advice without being simplistic, repetitive, or useless. 

It’s a reminder that we write because we love it. We may not love it all the time, but we need to commit to that love every time.

It’s “LET’S GOOOO!” across 280 pages.

This one hits at the right time. I think a year or so ago, when I thought all was well with my first novel, I’d have scoffed a little. Now I realize what a lifeline it is.

 I especially like her sections on stormwriting.

“Open it up, write deeper, write long, write relaxed, write loose. And never ever worry about your finished product in the midst of all this messy glory.” — Elizabeth Sims

The Witches are Coming by Lindy West

If you loved Shrill, you may very well love this, even though it covers some of the same territory. That’s probably the point, though. Have things really improved in the world since then? Nope.

I laughed and then didn’t – shouldn’t things be better? Especially if we can name them? Are we naming them correctly?

West is brilliant and the through-line in this book is similarly brilliant. She makes it look easy. It is not easy. That’s her gift. 

“So fine, if you insist. This is a witch hunt. We’re witches, and we’re hunting you.” — Lindy West

The Book of Fire by Christy Lefteri

I won this book in a Goodreads Giveaway, and wrote a longer review here, but for the purposes of this blog, here is a bit of that about this gorgeous book:

The novel is a study of grief, trauma, and guilt. The narrative unfolds in two timelines: one during the fire and the other weeks after. Third-person narration in one timeline adds an honest and heartbreaking layer of detachment. 

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

This is an eco-murder mystery set in a Polish village. I almost quit after reading the first quarter. It’s…a little slow and I am feeling impatient these days. Thank goodness I didn’t quit. 

The crafting of language, especially as this is a translation – and a deft one – kept me riveted. 

Deep respect to translator Antonia Lloyd-Jones.

The main character’s devotion to Blake works nicely in this book that is a warning about the natural world getting revenge upon us all. 

This is apparently a movie or something, although the BBC could have done a hell of a series. Then PBS could have found a home for it nestled amongst its other weird and cozy mystery series.

It is a genre-busting tale told by a character in every sense of the word, where we recognize the cruelty of these men in how they treat her, an aging woman, and how they treat animals in the world around them. So please read this and can we talk about how older women in society are treated? THANK YOU!

Cut and Run by Ben Blacker and Ben Acker

ANY BOOK WITH AN UNWITTING ORGAN DONOR IS FUNNY, RIGHT?

Possibly not, but this one is. Available exclusively as an audiobook on Audible, it nails the art of snappy banter and clever meta-commentary. The cast is made up of the finest in the business. *Waves to Ed Begley Jr.*

What’s been moved to your “Finished” pile?