Reminiscing
I am sitting at the computer at my parents' house, feeling suddenly like I have just returned from Oxford and am waiting for one of you to get online for a festive IMing session. But if that were the case it should be much later at night (waitressing hours) and I should not be so sleepy. As it is I need to go to bed, because it is 11:15 p.m. MDT and my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. EDT, and I have to work tomorrow. Being a grown-up sucks.I'm home for my sister's wedding--last one of the summer--and it is fun to watch her as her wedding plans begin to bloom. Tonight, as we turned on the twinkle lights (still set up from my brother's wedding just a month ago) and spread Chinese lanterns around the yard, she said, "Wow, I still can't believe this one is finally mine. It finally looks like I want it to." We have had three weddings in this yard, but this one will have Jenny's mark. It is beautiful.
In other news, I miss you. Suddenly I feel our separation more freshly than I have for many moons, and I wish we were holed up in some blustery kitchen laughing and speaking a language I barely remember. Do you feel like you have changed monumentally since those days? Or just grown up? Would we recognize each other in this new, "pushing thirty" (Jason, who turned 27 three days ago, declared that he is pushing 30. I, who turned 27 in March, am not.), more settled, secretly-craving-adventure world? I don't doubt that we would. But I would like to know for sure.
I've been reading voraciously lately, and I want to talk to you about books.
posted by Missy Small @ 8/14/2006 06:20:00 AM
12 Comments:
No, I've not grown up...and the only change has been accumulated losses and pain. But I am finally, after three years, beginning to come out of it...
Although I turn 29 this year, I am most definitely *not* "pushing 30." I feel the same as I did at 16--accumulated time on this planet doesn't necessarily have to make you old.
I am not settled, but if it ever happens, it will probably be in this country (never the States). I am still neck-deep in my lifelong search for vocation (a mythical creature I barely believe exists)--no news on that front as of yet. I so desperately wish I could love teaching--it would clarify things beautifully. But I don't...and so the search continues. For now, I survive these school days and have now been granted 3 hrs. a week to work on the library (which desperately needs it!). We're currently working on a database project to to computerize the check-out system--which makes me happy.
I just finished Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers--amazing prose. I really like this guy. (John Banville's Kepler came before that.) Now I'm reading Hawking's A Brief History of Time (something I should've done a long time ago). On the side of personal study, I'm really enjoying James Longenbach's The Resistance to Poetry (I'm taking notes). And in my Spanish reading, I hope to embark on Gabo's Del amor y otros demonios soon (a gift from my favorite person).
I don't devote as much time to reading as I'd like...my progress is incredibly slow (as my litblog can attest). But at least I'm trying to be more intentional about it these days.
What pages have you been reading lately? I am always open to talking about books (although there is usually a bit of pain involved in that there is only one tiny bookstore in town and my only chance to act on recommendations are the annual visits Stateside). But it's always good to hear about what people have been reading (in spite of the fact that we've been chastized before for trying that stuff here ;).
have just finished 25th Hour. i love the film, was tentative to read the book - found it under waterloo bridge (zack, you know where i mean). but it was everything i wanted it to be. hommage to new york: the facinating, the ugly, the mystical, and the real.
am now reading hundred years of solitude (you told me to years ago, mimi, and after all this time i have finally cracked it). what i love about it is that i find myself smiling reading it. it is a slow smile which spreads across my face without me knowing until i am in full beam and my cheek muscles hurt. what i hate about it is that every 2 minutes i have to turn to the front where the family tree is to find my bearings.
that is my literary standing.
Anna Maria, I would feel very good about myself if I had kept your reading schedule in the midst of working all summer. I finally finished Moby Dick a week after I returned from Israel/Palestine (Nicole, remember how I kinda sorta starting to read that when I visited you in January?), then eagerly plowed through 150 pages of The Known World on a flight home two weeks ago, only to neglect picking it up since. Don't ask how I've been doing at keeping up with Greek.
How did we get to be talking about books in response to Missy's lovely posting? Oh yeah, I forgot who reads this blog...
Also, Ana Maria, I feel you on the search for vocation. I find it somewhat heartening that you too are in the midst of finding what you love to do (besides read). I have been having an early-late-twenties crisis of late. A friend of mine (pushing 37) likes to say that all the time before 40 is just preparation, and we don't start to accomplish our life's work until afterward. So, on that timetable, you are right where you ought to be at 29: in process. Still, I can't say it wouldn't be nice to have something figured out...
And Missy, even if being an adult isn't all the fun you had ever dreamed of and more, I hope I am a bit more like you when I grow up. And I'm not being cheeky.
Now, let us all collectively pat ourselves on the backside for one post with three responses, all in one twenty-four hour period. Go team!
Zack, we started talking about books because Missy (in her "lovely post") said she wanted to. (Don't worry--I have no agendas.)
Well, I'm glad my existential crisis can be of some help to somebody. After roughly 13 years of searching, multiple cross-country and intercontinental moves, and various types of employment, I'm about ready to shoot myself in the head. But it's all about the journey, right?
Ah yes, Missy did indeed solicit the books discussion. Mea culpa. My statement was not directed at you personally, but at all of us collectively, like "What a shock that we all should end up talking about books." It is one of charming things about us all, which I dearly love, and it may have something to do with where we all met each other.
Thank you for sharing your (actual, not half-sarcastic) existential crisis with us. Know that you are really not alone on that, and I don't think it is only for myself that I am speaking. Also, I sincerely hope that your penultimate comment above was in jest -- but it's okay if it was not. I am sorry if I said that clumsily, but having worked as a hospital chaplain all this summer I take such comments very seriously. You are loved by everyone who takes the time to read this blog, even those of us who squandered the chance to know you better in Oxford. It turns out that people I rarely spoke to when we "lived together" are now my dearest Oxford friends. It's funny how that can happen, even through the internet.
If "love" means vaguely pleasant thoughts directed at someone once known and then forgotten as soon as the page is clicked out of...yeah, you're right. I call this many things, but not that. (Evidently there are certain words that I don't take lightly, either. I'm not trying to be mean, only realistic. Superficial expression of sentiment doesn't go very far these days. We all need to wake up to that fact.)
And I'm still waiting to hear what Missy wanted to say about her reading...
One day I will finish Moby Dick (I like what I've read so far).
see, i think i get in too deep when i end a blog "i want to talk to you about books." i always feel a bit like i'm not reading the right stuff, but there you have it--what is the right stuff? my librarian friend with impeccable taste in books is often reading new fiction, many of you are often reading old, ana maria is steeped in poetry, and i, well, i am always rereading old friends.
now, for example, i am reading two old l.m. montgomery books (aka author of "anne of green gables," for those who missed that beautiful phase at 12 or 13). i started with "emily of new moon" and i am working my way back through my collection. is that what you expected from me? perhaps. i found a friend here (the first after 5 years) who is "of the race of joseph" and who, we recently discovered, is simultaneously rereading anne. she commented the other night that she finds "real books" hard to read when life is confusing, difficult, or tenuous, and i agree--this year has been all of those things, and i have felt the need to rediscover the part of me that grew up on prince edward island. it is a large part of me, it turns out.
in other book news, i recently read "love walked in" by marisa de los santos, which was magical. i finished it on my plane ride home and then had to reread many chapters just because i loved them so much. i also read "on beauty" by zadie smith while we were on vacation, and i'm still not clear on how i feel about it. has anyone else read it?
before that was "a wedding in december" (compelling for reasons i cannot articulate--was it really compelling, or just so to me?) and a reread of "northanger abbey," which i recall had me laughing out loud in the bod. this month's "book of the month" is supposed to be "heart of the midlothian," which i never finished during our oxford days. but you will notice i am now on book six for august that is NOT by sir walter scott.
nicole, i have a post-it note with "hundred years or solitude," recommended by vic a lifetime ago, that has followed me to three houses. i remember ana maria's love for it too. thanks for bringing it back to the forefront of my mind.
i have to tell you, what prompted this post was finding old 2001ish emails from all of you filed on my parents' aol which i no longer have access to anywhere else. in particular, one from vic mentioned his going to "the merry wives of windsor" with his "complete works" in hand. he recognized that i might call him a nerd but craftily pointed out that he didn't purchase shakespeare glasses at the bodleian bookstore. so true. it made me miss you all at once.
i was so delighted to see that there were six comments on this post. i found bits of you i was looking for. it became an interesting debate on the use of "love" down there near the bottom. i think my love for all of you is based on a connection deeper than most and an intense experience shared with only you. i care more deeply about what is happening in your lives than i probably deserve to. i believe this is love of a sort. but it is true, ana maria, that this love is sometimes more the love of a shared idea than a love of an individual person--though i am regularly surprised at how deeply i know you and am known by you when i see you again. for some of you, i am happy to say, that love has grown into a real true friendship-love over time and experience over the years. i hope that time continues to surprise me with those opportunities.
Missy, I've read every single one of LMM's 20+ novels and collections of short stories. I adore her (especially the Emily books, The Blue Castle, A Tangled Web, The Story Girl, and The Golden Road). I definitely understand the desire to return to those beloved pages. In bringing books from the States for our poor little library, I found the first four Anne books and reread them last year. They held up well, although I am twice as old now as I was when I read them.
Have not yet read On Beauty, but I heard many mixed reactions from respected litbloggers. Isn't it loosely based on Howard's End? Why do you think you feel ambivalent about it? I'm curious.
You say that "this love is sometimes more the love of a shared idea than a love of an individual person"--thank you for acknowledging this. (Some of us tried too hard for so little.)
Seeing that I live only one hour north of Aracataca, I will certainly be revisiting Cien años de soledad at some point soon. It is amazing... For any of you that have a passing interest in it (or any other bit of Latin American lit for that matter), I would strongly recommend you read Gabo's 1982 Nobel prize speech: http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/
laureates/1982/marquez-lecture-e.html
It will help you see how the supposed "extravagance" of his prose is really just that of a man in love with his country, telling it like it is.
"The Blue Castle" is amazing. Seriously one of the best books ever. I have to put years between readings so that I forget the details and can live them all over again. I also just finished "The Golden Road" and it was even more beautiful on this side of 15.
As for "On Beauty" (yes, based on Howard's End), I must confess I never really got into "Howard's End," though I intend to try again (first try was in college about the time my senior paper was due, so it wasn't an intentional snub). For me, it was very messy. Which is not bad, just...I don't know what. It had lots of character plots, and I don't feel like any of them actually WENT anywhere. More like it was a snapshot of a family. A 430 page snapshot. Hmmm. There were some very good chapters, but my overall impression was that I had a headache when I was done.
My friend who recommended it LOVED it, and maybe I just feel a bit weird that I didn't love it back... I almost wonder if I just started it too soon after finishing "Wedding" and didn't get a chance to process properly. I read it really fast, too, maybe it needed more time...
Valancy ("His lips are too red for a man's") Stirling kills me every time...
Some links re. Zadie...
http://maudnewton.com/blog/?p=5578
When she began writing it, she says, "I was very uncertain whether it was the kind of novel I wanted to write, or even one I wanted to read." Although not out until next week, On Beauty — which she describes as a bourgeois suburban comedy — is producing a hum in literary circles and has been long-listed for the Booker prize....
[S]he admits: "The Autograph Man was a correction to the didactic excesses (as I saw them) of White Teeth. And now On Beauty is an attempt to correct the emotional black hole in The Autograph Man."
On Beauty is arguably her most ambitious novel, featuring two middle-class, mixed-race and black families, one based in an American east coast university town and the other in London. The entire plot came to her in a dream, she says, but it was only after she woke her husband to recount it that she realised the narrative had many similarities to E M Forster’s Howards End.
See also...
http://www.moorishgirl.com/archives/003265.html and http://www.moorishgirl.com/archives/003339.html
Haven't checked the blog since my last comment, so I've missed the books discussion up to this point.
AM: Moby Dick was not a fast read for me, but you may make quicker progress, and the novel paid off for me in the end. Melville's language is rich, and I kept being surprised by the the mythic qualities of the sea voyage, the bonds men form in close quarters, and a monster the author refers to reverently as Leviathan, with all of the (perhaps unconsciously) Biblical/Babylonian significance of that embodiment of the sea, the mother, chaos, and death. I am a criticism light-weight, but Harold Bloom sees this quadrant (I substitute chaos for Bloom's night) as the central set of tropes in English literature. I resonate with such imagery, yet feel I don't yet have the depth to articluate why.
As for your comment on my comment: I admitted it was clumsy, but perhaps that doesn't make up for my saying it. For that I am sorry. I apologize both for trying to chaplain you over the internet and for overstepping what might be appropriate for how well I know you. Like your own comment, and all others on the blog, once published my words are out there. I can't take them back. If affections for each other, as a group, are indeed no more than superficial sentimentality, I would not have even attempted to respond to your comment. And you would not have made it in the first place. This is not meant to be a self-justification. I regret if my comment annoyed or offended you.
You are right, too, in your assessment of what this blog is, and is able to be. We don't need sentimentality. We don't get too many statements as raw as yours on this blog, and I meant to take it seriously. I wanted to acknowledge your genuine expression of real struggle and deep feeling, and I'm sorry if I blew it. But I do wish to point out that, as deep as our books are and as much as they may impact our consciousnesses and feed our souls, talking about them could easily become shallow trivia as much as any trite sentiment. Maybe the books are windows onto the deep things of our souls. If so, wonderful, but if the books discussion actually takes place on the surface it is a mask covering our vulnerable faces. Maybe that's just the best we can talk about for right now. Maybe you are right, and we all ought to lower our expectations for this blog.
You are also right to call me on using certain words flippantly. Perhaps I overstated. But I meant something like what Missy commented next: I share with certain others an affection and fascination with those who shared Oxford with me, one, admittedly, out of proportion to how well I really got to know you all. Maybe "love" is too strong a word, particularly when it is reserved for people and experiences that hold more significance for the hearer than the speaker intended in his own usage. Sorry for violating one of your sacred words. I don't think I am alone in regarding Oxford as a liminal moment, an awakening, or a threshold crossed out into the open air of a new viewpoint on the world. Crassly flowery language aside, being there changed me somehow, permanently and for the better. It is only natural that the people associated with such an experience would hold a special place in one's affections. Maybe this is something different from love, and maybe Missy is right in saying it's only a shared idea that we "love", rather than the sharer herself. We all need to admit this.
However, even if such feelings are immature, we surely must regard them as something more than just superficial sentiment, or we wouldn't bother even to keep this sporadic little blog afloat. We post, and hope our posts are read and responded to, because somehow we still want to know these people we shared a brief but pivotal experience with six years ago. And even more, we continue to want to be known by these people. We are limited in how well we can know each other through this blog, in contrast to how much we may want to relive or revisit Oxford through it. We should have reasonable, realistic expectations for it. Maybe we can develop our own new language for the feeling we have for this little (now ethereal) community, something more meaningful than sentimentality, and not so over-dramatic as love. As I recall, this discussion began with a discussion of "love", namely your desire to "love teaching", which would "clarify things beautifully." I meant, originally, only to affirm and echo that desire, being in a similar search myself. Sorry if I pissed you off. So, "If we shadows have offended..."
Zack, you can use the option to have all comments on this blog sent to your email--it's really handy. (It won't send you original posts, just comments made.)
Yes, I'm sure Moby Dick is amazing (I'm only a third of the way through it and it will probably be a while before I tackle it again--I'd love to give it my full attention). Btw, the fact that you feel things you can't express for this book proves you have depth--the means to convey it don't signify. (There are many erudite people without much depth.)
If affections for each other, as a group, are indeed no more than superficial sentimentality, I would not have even attempted to respond to your comment.
Who said anything about that? I think you're being a little melodramatic here. I said nothing to disparage the affection we have for each other--I only objected to the word "love" used as a verb when the object is virtually unknown. That is all.
But I do wish to point out that, as deep as our books are and as much as they may impact our consciousnesses and feed our souls, talking about them could easily become shallow trivia as much as any trite sentiment. Maybe the books are windows onto the deep things of our souls. If so, wonderful, but if the books discussion actually takes place on the surface it is a mask covering our vulnerable faces. Maybe that's just the best we can talk about for right now. Maybe you are right, and we all ought to lower our expectations for this blog.
Although I do acknowledge your point that talking about recent reading can become a "mask covering our vulnerable faces," I really don't see how that's relevent. At this point, aren't we welcoming comments of *any* stripe? This is the third time I've been "cautioned" (can't think of a better word) about book talk here. Maybe that's one of the reasons I don't post much. If we can't feel free to write about whatever we'd like, what's the point? I have said nothing about "lowering expectations for this blog." If we can't have a free exchange of ideas (aside from the exchanging of memories), I can't see that this "community" can survive beyond pleasant well wishes to people you once knew. This blog isn't solely a confessional. If you're only waiting for vulnerability, you're going to be waiting a long time. Besides, how is vulnerability fostered if the "little things" aren't welcomed?
It is only natural that the people associated with such an experience would hold a special place in one's affections. Maybe this is something different from love, and maybe Missy is right in saying it's only a shared idea that we "love", rather than the sharer herself. We all need to admit this.
Something to think about. Granted, I see a big difference between saying, "I love you guys," and "You are loved" used in reference to a specific person. The latter seems to me to be much more intentional and personal. We can continue to talk semantics as much as you like, but the unavoidable fact is that perhaps this is sensitive subject for me (esp. as it directly relates to losses suffered) and I don't take such words lightly. I've been hurt too much by those who do.
And even more, we continue to want to be known by these people. We are limited in how well we can know each other through this blog, in contrast to how much we may want to relive or revisit Oxford through it.
Hence my words above. I don't think they're too unreasonable.
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