wanting the kids to be alright

I found it so strange that two book clubs meeting this week read novels that were centered on missing kids. I don't think I'd have felt like reading either of these when I had younger kids myself. When I told EM this she chalked it up to me being likely to imagine At and Nu as the missing kids. Probably. I could barely bear reading these even with grown kids. And I doubt those worries go away entirely--Nu still texts when they get to school; At is off to Seattle tomorrow and will send travel updates. (Both at least partly per my request.)

I finished grading all the midterms this morning. (I'm teaching only two classes right now because I'm teaching a May-term this year as well, so it was relatively easy.) I'm so immensely proud of the way my students are thinking through problems and phenomena and coming up with amazing theses. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if I saw something like this as an abstract in a professional journal: "When reading Amelia Lanyer’s “Eve’s Apology in Defense of Women” I was struck by how much it reminded me of but also contrasted with John Milton’s Paradise Lost; both works reinterpret the story of Adam and Eve, and were published in the 1600s. I remember that Milton reinterprets Adam eating the forbidden fruit as an act of love for Eve since he knows that she will die and can’t bear to live immortally without her. If this interpretation (and memory of it) are correct, it could be interesting to contrast this to what Lanyer does with Eve, interpreting her giving the fruit to Adam as a similar act of love.These are just the beginnings of an idea, though, and I would have to modify it to better fit the vision of the assignment outlined in the directions." Interstitially, as students write out their ideas I get to learn about personal details here and there and am humbled by how much so many of them have to combat to show up and keep on. Each of those circumstances is made even more heavy by the antics of the current administration. I'm so weary of all this chaos and cruelty.

Pic: These book covers are so pretty, especially dappled by sunlight like this. I know I'm making something blueberry themed for The Berry Pickers bookclub on Friday. What is the alarming 3-D seeming Pepto-pink drip on The God of the Woods supposed to be?! (OK, I googled--it's the pink coverup paint in Barbara's bedroom.)

"practice the art of resilience"

Many things did not go according to plan today--I got behind on a couple of tasks, my massage therapist canceled, I broke one of my favorite dishes as I was readying dinner, I burnt two parathas and also my hand, I accidentally heard a few snippets of news about the inauguration, and was surprised and saddened by news that Cecile Richards had died (that's when I lost focus and burned my hand, actually)...

But the title of this article played in my head like a mantra: "With their lives upended, they practiced the art of resilience." It's a story about a new exhibition at the Smithsonian featuring the work of three Japanese-American artists, two of whom had been incarcerated in internment camps during World War II. One of them, Miné Okubo, later wrote the book Citizen 13660 about her life in the camps--Big A's grandfather, Harold, was instrumental in getting that book published as she notes in the introduction. 

We'd been talking about taking a trip to D.C. to see the exhibition yesterday because of this connection... But also, I'll take every reminder of people going through terrible times and making it out to the other side. 

Pic: Nu showing me which kid they resemble on one of our treasured Miné Okubos--She gave Big A's grandparents a few of her paintings as gifts over the years they stayed in touch.

bookends

I woke up to see that a writer friend had tagged me in her exhortation to read more books in 2025 because she'd used a picture of our Little Free Library. And of course the week has been full of various enjoyable year-end roundups of reading lists. Then Lisa wondered about my top books of 2024... The thing is, I don't have a digital record of my reading. Reading is what I've always loved doing but also kind of my work work. So it never made sense (for me) to quantify my reading by hours/pages/titles. When I read for pleasure, like other things I do for pleasure, I tend to do it rather whimsically and for as long--or as little--as I want to. It's not very efficient. But that feels perfect to me.

Lisa's question made me curious, though. So I went to check on my scribbly physical planner, where I usually note what I'm reading "for fun" to compile this top-12. (I think these titles are a mix of 2023 and 2024 and are in no particular order.)

Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Message; Catherine Newman, Sandwich; Paul Murray, The Bee Sting; Percival Everett, James; Kaveh Akbar, Martyr!; Sally Rooney, Intermezzo; Fady Joudah, […]; Tony Tulathimutte, Rejection; Emma Cline, The Guest; Yiyun Li, Wednesday’s Child: Stories; Tania James, Loot; Elliot Page, Pageboy: A Memoir; Teju Cole, Tremor. (Fun fact: Teju Cole used to comment on this blog a very long time ago.)

Pic: OM's Facebook Reel of our Little Free Library. I did a quick search, and this is the first picture of it in the snow, I think. I love that our neighborhood keeps it so well stocked. It used to be all my responsibility in the other place where we had it from 2012-2016.

a kind (of) bereavement

 

            our old house has new folks 

                       and so... now we are ghosts

              no one sees although we lived

                    here barely 12  years ago 

         morning  mists cling  to  us 

                        ghostly as nights of regret 

             our older selves are yet silent, 

                      uncertain, unknown outside

            we find we forget to exhale

                         are reminded there are no 

             songs in sighs and although

                          not quite death, cold-ness 

                 takes away our breath, leaves 

                          us to mourn a different lack 

                 of warmth despite being back

__________

Note: I felt a bit strange walking on our old street in Yellow Springs early in the day. I think I imagined that a neighbor or two would be out and that we'd have a warm impromptu reunion. I had plans with friends later in the day, but wanted the chance encounter too! Speaking of friends, I'm ordering a few copies of Rebecca Kuder's Dear Inner Critic Workbook to give as Christmas presents. 

____________

Pic: Our descent into Glen Helen for a long hike yesterday. Back in the day, when we lived across from the Glen, I feel we solved many of our parenting dilemmas and disagreements over a walk through these woods.

it's going down at the (book) club

Pic: Today my bookclub people were so delighted with the verdict finding Trump guilty on all 34 felony counts--JS brought a grocery store cake whose icing read "34 Convictions" and CD had a bottle of wine whose label had been altered to say "34 Crimes."

(We were discussing The Bee Sting--I could have talked about it for another 24 hours. Our next book is Percival Everett's James--the Huck Finn re-vision.)

Bonus: My WTF dream in which I was upset because in addition to my real life kids, I had twins who were killed in a bus accident. I didn't seem to be grieving them, I was upset because (a) I hadn't put their names on the Father's Day T-shirt I had made for A (IRL, I've put Scout's name on it, of course) and (b) I couldn't remember the name of the second twin. In the dream, I went round and round wondering if it was "Collin" or "Mike" or "Asa--" all real life twins I know. I was so relieved to wake up and remember I never did have twins.

other lives

I've been immersing myself in a ton of fiction lately--anything to take my mind off the news. It has been pretty eclectic. I started the week with a reread of Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49--I have a faint memory of reading it for an undergrad American Litt. class. I wonder if I skimmed it, and how many of the references I got back then. It's stuck in my memory as a book with several weird sexual situations. 

I've since moved on to what I took to be a romance set in Havana (free on my Kindle). I thought I'd be irritated with its anti-revolutionary stance since the first chapter was about some Batista cronies fleeing, but it actually goes back and forth in time and among various classes quite well. 

Next up is going to be Curtis Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy, which I found at the thrift store for a dollar and forty-nine cents when I went looking for old vases. I've always enjoyed Sittenfeld but recently she mentioned someone I know in her acknowledgments and that has cemented her standing in my reading lists forever.

I'm also watching shows I used to watch in the 90s (Frasier, Felicity); they're kind of calming and help me fall asleep. 

Pic: I was looking forward to taking pictures of the moon this evening, but it's suddenly quite cloudy.

Here's a picture of a squirrel looking straight at me instead. 

"Oops, I did it again!"

I just finished Deepa Varadarajan's Late Bloomers the book Nicole inadvertently recommended. It's not terrific, but it is about South Indians in the U.S., and I kept reading out of curiosity.  It's about people in their 50s dating other people after having been married to each other for 30+ years.

Coincidentally, an older colleague of Big A's is going through a divorce at 60+ and I was surprised to hear Big A say that perhaps after 60 people should just stay put in their relationships. I find that disturbing--surely people should be free to start over at any point in their lives? Why should someone live another 30 potential years with someone they don't like?

And then, oops! Straight on the heels of finishing one book about South Indians, I started Abraham Verghese's Covenant of Water and am loving the intensely South Indian location and poetics of it all. There was a moment where a character helps a vendor lift the wicker basket off their head and land it on the ground--and that gesture seemed to tug at some memory of seeing that... in a movie? My grandmother's house? I think the writing is beautiful and the story compelling... but honestly, maybe I like it so much because there are flashes of the city I grew up in? And there's an elephant! What more could I want?

Pic: Big A, Huck (lounging near me), and Max (longing for me). 

book talk

to move out of no and never
look up to the untold 

It feels as if we've already 

lived forever

made the eternal arguments 

a hundredfold 

friend, tether me with books

cover me with pages

mix me in the breathlessness

of these mistakes

turn me to light and lightness

learn me to be courageous 

---------------------------------------

Pic: Books for reading groups at work this term. The first discussion was today at the President's house. Usually, a book that describes students as "consumers" would make me ditch it, but I had to read it so I did. Small colleges like ours are likely to go the way of the afternoon newspaper (i.e. into oblivion) if we don't innovate. Fair. We'll need to do that, however, without losing our idealistic core--our conviction that education impacts and improves lives and that learning to learn is the best form of future-proofing for our kids. 

great starts

My friend Oindrila Mukherjee's novel "The Dream Builders" was launched today. Here she is with her fabulous book and a cake version of it too. After the launch, reading, Q&A, book signing, and helping with clear up, we hung out with tapas and wine, celebrating until late with her local and Atlanta friends. 

I got home after midnight, and hung out with Scout and Huck for a while (they were the only ones up), too tired to actually go to bed. It's after 1:30 now, so I really should get up and go to bed as I'll have to wake up at 5/5:30 to help Nu get to school...

The first day of classes went well. For the first time in a while I don't have the same students in more than one class, so it felt very liberating to make the same silly icebreaker jokes without feeling like I'm repeating myself. Ha. 

(Oh... and I was one of the few people who was masked at the book launch. One of the guests who'd come from Atlanta, and WHO WORKS AT THE CDC, said they put away their mask because no one else was wearing one, but now that I was masking they felt more comfortable...  then they pulled their K-95 with a flourish and wore it. What the what?!?!)

storyteller

I wake wanting to be

inside the side 
you are on                  to step outside my body 

                                   threading through

                                   discarded stories                your departures guiding me

                                                                               through volcanic swirls

                                                                               so swaha / shanti

                                    I'm ready to swallow fire 
                                    unwrap smoke shapes
                                    hold revelation

when you nod, mouth "now"

I'll know how right away

to rehearse my life 

reading weekend

I'd saved a couple of books for the long weekend and they were amazing. I'd actually preordered Preeta Samarasan's Tale of the Dreamer's Son-- I was that excited for it. But I saved it to be my reward for after NWSA and Thanksgiving were accomplished. 

At 492 pages Tale of the Dreamer's Son didn't feel long enough, I wanted to keep reading it. I fell in love with P.S.'s first book Evening is the Whole Day, met her at a conference years ago, and then we became friends on "the socials." She thinks Nu is an amazing artist and that Scout and Huck are treasures (all true) and I've loved her quirky and irreverent takes on parenting, her parents, classical music, the odd short story or essay, dead celebrity heartthrobs (Kafka! Chopin!) etc. This book--which has been a long time coming--is nothing like any of that... it's twisted and suspenseful... political gothic. I was sad when it ended.

My other read was Brian Doyle's One Long River of Song, which continuously broke me in so many beautiful ways. It was a book club pick--definitely not something I'd have picked for myself. And kids, that is why I should be in more book clubs.

what was I thinking?

I wanted to (re)read some Mary Stewart, who's been a comfort read since my teens, and picked Wildfire at Midnight, which was my first Mary Stewart and a book I'd originally picked somewhat serendipitously from the untouched hardback section in the Holy Angels Convent library. I was so taken by it, I retold it frame-by-frame to my sister and cousins at our sleepover later that week.

Anyway... So I had very good reasons to pick Wildfire... And yes, the language and descriptions were just as flawless and the murder mystery just as intriguing. But of course the historical moment is a key player too--the conquest of Everest by Tenzing and Hillary and... the coronation of QEII.

I guess subliminal colonialism is a thing.

Pic: Reading my Mary Stewart compendium with Scout and Huck.

404

 

Full day: 10+ hours of teaching and grading and meetings and approx. 2 hours of commuting...

And it's now 3:18 am and I can't stop reading Anthony Doerr's Cloud Cuckoo Land.

Help.

(I liked his All the Light We Cannot See too although its very eurocentric depiction of WWII irked me. This one, OMG, is incredibly lush and includes wide swathes of humanity and historical times.)

of darker days

> Torrential rains last night and then a pretty innocent-looking morning. Yet at my all-kids-pre-breakfast cuddle/huddle, At remarked on how it already looked darker at our regular wake up time.

*

< Started Ayad Akhtar's Homeland Elegies. FML, I didn't expect so much of that first chapter to be about Trumpfzzzz. It has been such a relief not to have to deal with that din on the daily.

"Yes or no or maybe"

Big A set the kids to deep clean the bookshelves in their rooms, and Dori Chaconas's Momma, Will You? didn't make the cut. (The last time we did bedroom library evals, I convinced manipulated Nu into keeping it on a shelf of keepsakes.) But this lovely, lovely book that reminds me of the heft of a baby in my lap and a super cuddler by my side will now live in my upstairs library for ever.

For ever ever.

Because my human kids are eight years apart, this was a book I read to too-old-At and too-young-Nu, but they too still remember the refrain of "Yes or no or maybe;" the sometimes silly requests of the kids ("Momma will you wash the pig?/ Yes, or no or maybe?/In the tub! He's not too big./ Wash him with our baby."); and the always lovely and wise responses of the Momma: ("No, we will not catch a wren/ for wild things should fly free./ But I will sing a song for you,/And you sing one for me.")

I'm fairly certain I got this book from the Beavercreek Goodwill in 2008 or so, but I am so happy to see that it's still in print and seems to be universally appreciated. 

First!

I got to bookclub first, with my signed copy of Rainbow Rowell's sweet debut Eleanor and Park for the book exchange. (Reusing book, bag, and tissue paper here. Hola!)

Half-an hour later, the place was all raucous exuberance, with discussions hilariously veering off course. The book was Tayari Jones's An American Marriage and the loudest, longest discussion SOMEHOW became: which famous prisoner would you write to?

10,000 Words

It feels like I said everything that needed to be said multiple times with my nearest ones, and I need a break from thinking and talking about the same thing.

Early morning walk with L; Lunch buffet at Saffron today with L&T and EM and Nu and Big A; baklava from Shatila via Sultan's; and the short story volume from N.K.Jemisin for book club tomorrow.

I'm calling the day officially closed for further business.

Here

No weekend walking club, didn't make it to The Overstory bookclub, but--I cleaned the driveway, grocery shopped, planted the indoor hyacinths (I just press them into pots with other things around the house and someday will get a SURPRISE burst of color and fragrance), chatted about all the things with all the people, and ended up with  dinner at The People's Kitchen (Big A's Boss Day pick) just as the sun was setting over the capitol.

Kind of a lovely day, actually.

Yes

Noobs and I finally made it to the bookstore after panning to for literal days, and I'm beyond excited to start this book.

And also, how awesome is that bookmark (and the kind bookstore person who just gave it to me)?!

Some Books

MIL's book (illustrations by her, words by SIL when she was six) is out in print. I love it and we ordered a bunch to give to friends with kids. LMK, if you'd like a copy!











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