January:
Ex Libris:
Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman
In January, while in
Oregon watching misty rain, rain, and one day of sudden snow fall from the sky,
I read this delightful book of essays about reading and books. I relate to many
of the ideas such as how much one can learn about another by the books they
keep on their shelves. Bookshelves are insightful. As are library book withdrawal
lists. At one point, Fadiman says, “I have never been able to resist a book
about books.” And I understand exactly what she means.
February:
The Emotional
Craft of Fiction by Donald Maass
February, in
Oregon, while slowly beginning to build an online tutoring business and trying
to keep my writing and writing skills in a prominent place in my life I read
books on writing craft. As I go, I copy out bits that stand out to me. This is one
paragraph I write in my notebook: “Nothing builds reader involvement more surely
than a character whose moral struggle pervades the tale. When readers hope,
beg, and plead with you to let a character turn towards the light, you have
readers where you want them. A character who is good is good; a character whom
we want to be good is even better” (page 49).
During this month,
the friend I’m staying with and I watch the show Cobra Kai (COBRA KAI NEVER DIES!)
– the continued story of The Karate Kid (definitely worth the watch if for
nothing but the hilarious 80s references). One of the most interesting characters
is Robby who follows a winding path that takes him from rebellion, to trust, to
having his trust betrayed. He ends up at a crossroads of choice, and chooses
the worst possible route. As I watch, I realize I like Robby so much because he
has a moral struggle and I want him so badly to be good, just like Maass said. So
very badly. The season ends before this development is resolved, but I can hope
for Robby’s ultimate redemption and joy. I can hope.
March:
Deep: Freediving,
Renegade Science, and What the Ocean Tells Us About Ourselves by James Nestor
People do amazing
things. One of those things is freediving. The Earth is an amazing place. One
of those places is the ocean with all its mystery, terror, and beauty.
Exploring the ocean depth by depth, Nestor takes me on an intriguing journey as
he learns how to increase his lungs’ capacity and begins to freedive himself. As
I read this book, I spend a lot of my time on the front porch of my friend’s
house, catching occasional sunshine, watching hummingbird battles, and observing
the Mystery Gardener’s mysterious ways, here in Oregon where I’ve established a
daily rhythm of reading, writing, tutoring, and cooking. All the while, I dream
of doing more amazing things myself. Though perhaps not freediving.
April:
Piranesi by
Susanna Clarke
I’m always in
search of a perfect book. This book is one of those. Relatively short, magical,
heartbreaking, redeeming, lovely. Over the course of an afternoon, I follow Piranesi
through the labyrinth of his House and watch as he comes into knowledge,
acceptance, and peace. I add this book to the list of books I wish I’d written.
[Here’s a nice
article about Susanna Clarke and her work which includes a review of Piranesi: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/sep/12/susanna-clarke-i-was-cut-off-from-the-world-bound-in-one-place-by-illness]
May:
Bird by Bird by
Anne Lamott
I begin to attend
an 8-week online writing workshop. Bird by Bird is one of the books the
instructor recommends. I’ve read it before, long ago. But it still holds
nuggets and is worth a reread. It’s part instructional, part encouragement,
part the speaking of the writer’s soul. I find myself reflected in many of her
words. For instance, “You wouldn’t be a writer if reading hadn’t enriched your
soul more than other pursuits” (page 170) and, “One can find in writing a perfect
focus for life. It offers challenge and delight and agony and commitment. We
see our work as a vocation, with the potential to be as rich and enlivening as
the priesthood” (page 190). Oh yes, exactly.
June:
Battleborn: Stories
by Claire Vaye Watkins
Bidding my friend (and
the cats) many thanks for the company and the room, I’ve left Oregon and come
to Colorado for the summer. I watch my friends’ dogs while they go away on
vacation and divide my time between the house and the backyard. Nearing the end
of the 8-week writing workshop, we’re assigned to read a short story called
Man-O-War. It’s a vivid story with a setting in the desert that becomes in many
ways as strong a character as the humans. I tell the instructor I enjoyed the
story and she recommends I read the rest of Watkins’s stories in the book Man-O-War
was taken from. So I do.
July:
Room by Emma
Donaghue
I only read two
books in July both by Emma Donaghue. My time is taken up with watching my
friends’ kids, exploring Colorado, and prepping for an upcoming writers’
conference where I will pitch three separate novels to six different agents. Room
is interesting in that it’s written from the point of view of five-year-old boy.
If it weren’t, the horror of this story of kidnapping, imprisonment, and the beauty
of a mother’s love might be too overwhelming.
August:
Bridge of Spies: A
True Story of the Cold War by Giles Whittell
I pitch my novels
at the online conference, finish up my summer job, visit as many places in
Colorado as I can manage, prep for leaving the state, and, ever interested in
Cold War history, read about the events and people that led up to the exchange
of spies that happened at Berlin’s Glienicke Bridge and Checkpoint Charlie in
1962. As I read, I take a quick trip down memory lane to 2015 when my older sister
and I met up with my Swedish friend in Berlin and went, among other places, to
Checkpoint Charlie and what’s left of the Berlin Wall. Back in current time, the
summer has sped by and I’m feeling reluctant to leave the mountains.
September:
All Systems Red by
Martha Wells
Suddenly, I’m in
Texas, dog sitting for my aunt and uncle, worrying about my next thing,
applying for the Peace Corps and a volunteer position for a winter stay at some
trailhead at some National Park, working on a short story that comes one slow sentence
at a time. As I always do, I stalk a few friends’ Goodreads book lists and recommendations
and in doing so see one friend’s four-star review of Network Effect by Martha
Wells. When I look it up, I see it’s the 5th in a series. So I start
at the beginning and am pulled completely, delightedly, and utterly into The
Murderbot Diaries. I inhale the entire series and want to start them right over
again when I’ve finished. If you haven’t read these books, you should. My
recommendation is to read all the novellas first and save Network Effect for
last (for after you’ve finished Fugitive Telemetry). It works better chronologically
that way.
October:
The Starless Sea
by Erin Morgenstern
After I’ve
completed my dog sitting gig and while I’m putting Next Plans into motion and
waiting for something to catch, my parents graciously let me stay with them. Continuing
with my online tutoring, I make myself read a handful of other books and finish
the short story I’ve been pulling out of my imagination like deep-rooted teeth
before I allow myself to settle into the complete joy of The Murderbot Diaries
again. One of those other books is Morgenstern’s The Starless Sea. I’m not sure
I like the book. It has a slow, slow start and I keep wondering how the author has
gotten away with it (perhaps because she had a very successful book with The
Night Circus). Maybe the book needs the slow build and I am just feeling
impatient after the perfectly paced intensity of The Murderbot Diaries. Even so,
even now, I can’t quite remember the point of the story, though I remember the
honey sea and the stickiness of pages and the image of doors. Doors are
powerful in books. So maybe it is a good book because it has left me still on
the shore of that almost horrifying honey sea.
November:
A Really Good Day:
How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life by
Ayelet Waldman
This has been a
rough year in many ways for me. I’ve struggled with a fairly deep depression, chronic
pain, and a sense of hopelessness that while I know is not true still feels
real. I’ve done a lot this year to get my body back to a healthy place, to
adjust my thinking, my emotions, and my forward thinking. It’s slow going. I’m
still a work in progress, but I am taking deliberate steps to be the person I
want to be. While neither condoning nor condemning microdosing at this point in
time, I do, however, want what Waldman wanted; to have more really good days
than otherwise. It’s not an unreasonable desire. I trust I’ll get there again
myself.
At some point in
November, I realize I’ve read 81 books so far this year. With the stabilizing need
for a solid goal, I decide to read 100 before the year is out. I’ve got
50-something days to read 19 books. It’s not impossible, but it will be a push.
December:
Cold Moons by
Magnús Sigurđsson
(Translated from the Icelandic by Meg Matich)
Honey
Ursin’s Astronomy:
Appendix
Imagine
the Earth
immersed
in honey.
Its rotation
trailing
honey strands.
As with
time
and space,
in Einstein’s
universe.
I meet my 100 book
goal (and even make it to 102 by the writing of this post which includes a
third read of All Systems Red by Martha Wells because, well, Murderbot).
