The Atlantic Fiction 2010

Unfortunately, fewer and fewer of the major magazines publish fiction. The Atlantic, although no longer publishing fiction regularly in its monthly issues, now publishes an annual fiction supplement, which for subscribers is a separate publication, and for newsstand buyers is bound into the magazine. The current (May 2010) fiction issue is now available. It contains seven very different stories, including those by Jerome Charyn and T. C. Boyle, and seven poems, including one by Jane Hirshfield. Also included are an essay by Richard Bausch (about whose recent collection of short stories I posted on 4/10/10), speaking out against writer's manuals; an interview with Paul Theroux about e-books; and a heartrending essay by Joyce Carol Oates about the painful loss of her husband of 48 years, Raymond Smith. Kudos to The Atlantic for its continued commitment to publishing fiction, poetry, and literature-related essays!

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month (for more information, see www.poets.org/npm). Although I am far more a reader of fiction than of poetry, I do enjoy poetry as well, and find it a source of inspiration, solace, and beauty. I was reminded of this yesterday when I was teaching a short poetry unit to my writing students, and found myself thoroughly enjoying discussing such poems as Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" (always a favorite of young people), Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise," and Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" with my students. One student, S., had written a wonderful poem that she shared with me and the class, to great applause and appreciation; this was especially impressive because English is her third language. I've also been thinking about poetry lately because several of the poets/professors at my university have recently received major awards and other recognitions; I would like to congratulate D.A. Powell, Aaron Shurin, and Dean Rader, as well as my longtime colleague and friend, poet Darrell Schramm, for their publications and achievements. And just tonight, I attended a poetry reading at the university in which one of the poets who read was our program assistant, Andrea Wise; she read some lovely, evocative poems. For those who would like more poetry in their lives, I recommend NPR's The Writer's Almanac, which can be subscribed to at http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org; subscribing brings a poem as well as brief literary notes to your email inbox daily; it's a lovely way to start the day! Finally, I want to mention a poem that means a lot to me: "Otherwise," by Jane Kenyon. I am not sure what the copyright issues are, so I won't include it here, but it is easy to find by Googling it.

"Writing Ann Arbor: A Literary Anthology"

One of my birthday gifts from my generous friend M. was "Writing Ann Arbor: A Literary Anthology" (University of Michigan Press, 2005), edited by Laurence Goldstein. M. has lived in Ann Arbor most of her adult life, and she of course knows that I lived in the Ann Arbor area for my last two years of high school, and have visited it often since then; also, my own 2009 book ("Interrogating Privilege: Reflections of a Second Language Educator") was published by the University of Michigan Press; so, for many reasons, this book was a welcome gift. Ann Arbor is known as a beautiful and progressive college town and a great place to live. This anthology contains essays, histories, memoirs, stories, and poems from the mid-nineteenth century through the present. Some of the contributors are or were famous University of Michigan alumni or faculty (e.g., philosopher/education theorist John Dewey, playwright Arthur Miller, political activist and later politician Tom Hayden, poet Frank O'Hara, feminist poet and novelist Marge Piercy, food editor and critic Ruth Reichl, novelist Charles Baxter, and poets Donald Hall and Jane Kenyon, who were married to each other), and some are less known. One of my favorite pieces is author/editor Sven Birkerts' story of working for a couple of years at an offshoot of the original Ann Arbor Borders Bookstore (long before Borders became a sprawling empire); in particular, he tells the story of his meeting and trying to impress the Nobel Prize winning Russian poet Joseph Brodsky, who was then a visiting professor at the University of Michigan, and who came into the shop. "Writing Ann Arbor" is a special pleasure to dip into for anyone who has a connection with or interest in Ann Arbor, or with the writers represented in the book, but any reader will find much to enjoy in the book.

Remembering Saul Bellow

There is a fascinating selection of Saul Bellow's letters to other writers and literary figures - including Philip Roth, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, John Berryman, John Cheever, Martin Amis, and Cynthia Ozick - in the April 26, 2010 issue of The New Yorker. The letters span over 50 years, from 1942 to 2004, shortly before Bellow's death in 2005. As I read them, I was reminded of how much I had admired and liked some of Bellow's novels during my college years, especially "The Adventures of Augie March", and - best of all - "Herzog." The latter was perfectly suited to my early-20s philosophizing years, when I was - in the way of many people of that age - trying to figure out "the meaning of life." I didn't read much Bellow after that, perhaps because I was busy discovering all the wonderful women writers who were not taught in my college classes. Some years later - perhaps in the 1980s - Bellow came to speak at the university where I teach, and afterward, was honored at a luncheon. I remember being in awe of having a meal in the same room with the great Saul Bellow, although not at the same table (I was too junior a faculty member then for that honor!). The only words we exchanged were a phrase or two, but it was an exciting and memorable occasion for me nevertheless.

"The Curse of the Appropriate Man"

At a recent library sale, I spotted a short story collection titled "The Curse of the Appropriate Man" (Harcourt, 2004), by Lynn Freed. I couldn't resist buying it, partly because I had read and liked other books by Freed, a South African author who lives here in the San Francisco Bay Area, and partly because the title was so intriguing. Some of the stories take place in South Africa and some in the United States, some are about poor black servants and some about sophisticated but often restless and unhappy whites in both South Africa and the U.S. Issues of race, class, and gender underlie many of the stories. The women characters in particular seem to have trouble settling into their lives; they are dissatisfied seekers and yet seem resigned to their inability to find or create better lives. The title story explores a topic that many women are very familiar with: the attraction women often feel to the "bad boys," the outlaws, the men who may not treat them well or offer stable lives, but who provide excitement and a feeling of being fully alive. Women know these men aren't good for them, but can't resist them either, and they may find more "appropriate" men dull. Freed is an excellent writer, the author of several novels, perhaps most notably "Home Ground" (Mariner, 1987), which I read and was impressed by many years ago. More recently, I very much liked her book of autobiographical/literary essays (a genre I am quite partial to, as readers of this blog have probably noticed), "Reading, Writing, and Leaving Home: Life on the Page" (Harcourt, 2005), which I posted about on 2/10/10.

Willa Cather: A Pioneer, An Original

The incomparable Willa Cather (1873-1947) was not only the author of wonderful, original fiction, most notably a dozen novels, but also a strong, independent woman who had a career as a journalist before she became a novelist. A major strength and source of originality is that most of her novels take place in heartland areas rather than in the big cities of the East, in contrast to most novels of the time. The best of the novels, in my opinion, are "My Antonia," "Song of the Lark," and "Death Comes for the Archbishop." The main character of "My Antonia" is a young woman who has immigrated to the U.S. from Bohemia with her family; they settle in the prairies of Nebraska. Living conditions are harsh, but the family works hard, gradually making lives for themselves. Antonia, although young, is the strongest family member, the rock upon whom the others rely. She is independent, hardworking, big-hearted, and kind. At several points, she has to stand up for herself and/or her family, and is competent and fearless in doing so. She is an American original, a truly wonderful character, one who reflects many aspects of Cather's own life and qualities. "Song of the Lark" is the story of Thea Kronberg, who is from Colorado but goes to Chicago and eventually New York, becoming a famed opera singer. It is a lovely ode to the way art transforms lives and allows us to transcend limitations. "Death Comes for the Archbishop" takes place in New Mexico, and treats historical themes about the Catholic church, Native Americans, and colonialism. It is a spare, intense, poetic novel, with vivid descriptions of the stark and striking landscape.

"Twilight of the Superheroes"

Several of the stories in Deborah Eisenberg's "Twilight of the Superheroes: Stories" (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2006) are very much New York fiction: urban, quick, abrupt, scattered, elliptical, talky, somewhat neurotic. Some - especially the title story - are informed by the events of September 11, 2001. There are exceptions to the New York setting, such as "Window," which takes place in suburban and rural settings, and "Like it or Not," set in Italy. Yet even the characters in those stories are, or seem to be, of urban American backgrounds and sensibilities. Eisenberg's stories are always compelling, although unsettling. I read this book when it came out in 2006, and just re-read it; the stories definitely deserve re-reading. If you like this collection, you may want to look for the author's very recent book, "The Collected Stories of Deborah Eisenberg" (Picador, 2010), which includes all four of her previously published story collections.

Engaging with a Novel through Teaching It

When I teach a novel, I get to know it in a way that I wouldn't otherwise. First, I read it more often, and more carefully. Second, I read more about it: literary criticism, biographical information about the author, etc. Third, I learn from my students' questions and comments. Most of all, I involve myself more deeply with the book, I steep myself in it, and I feel more connected to it. Of course I wouldn't have chosen to teach the book if I didn't already admire it, but teaching it brings a deeper relationship with it. This has happened to me with quite a few novels and other literary works, perhaps most notably Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility," Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre," Willa Cather's "My Antonia," Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway," Edith Wharton's "House of Mirth," and Toni Morrison's "Sula."

Girl Books and Boy Books?

This semester my writing class is reading (along with a textbook) "Digging to America," by Anne Tyler. I thought the themes of mixed cultures co-existing, international adoption, and family would stimulate good discussions and good writing, and they have done so. After we finished the novel this week, I asked students to write a quick overall response to the book: Did they like it? Were they glad they had read it? Would they recommend it to friends? Should I assign it again in future semesters? I asked them to be honest. All of them liked it at least somewhat, but the responses were quite gendered. The women all liked it without reservation. The men liked it more or less, but several of them said that they preferred books with "more action." And one male student stated that he liked it, and wrote very well about what he learned from it, but concluded by saying that it was a rather "girly" book, wasn't it? I am not sorry that I assigned this novel, as students spoke animatedly and wrote well about the themes and characters, and seemed genuinely interested in the story. But the male responses reminded me of something that I sometimes forget: for whatever reason, nature or nurture (I will not get into that huge and fraught question here!), it does seem that -- on average -- males have overlapping but at least somewhat different tastes in books than females. As an educator, should I take these differences into account? Should I look for novels with literary value but "more action"? I will have to think long and hard about this before the next time I need to select a novel for a class.

"Atlas of Unknowns"

"Atlas of Unknowns," by the Indian-American author Tania James, has just come out in paperback (Vintage, 2010). I read this engrossing novel when it was originally published in 2009, partly because I am always interested in novels about India and about Indians in the U.S., and partly because I am drawn to stories about sisters (perhaps because I don't have any, and wonder what it would be like to have them?). Two sisters, Linno and Anju, grow up in India; Anju wins a scholarship and goes to the U.S. to study, betraying her sister in the process. After various plot twists and troubles, Anju leaves the American school and disappears. We readers know she is safe, although unhappy, but Linno and the rest of the family does not. Linno has had success in India, due to her artistic talents, and she tries to go to the U.S. to find Anju. Despite all the secrets and sadnesses, the sisters' bond is inspiring. This is a good old-fashioned plot- and character-driven story, told extremely well; the cultural aspects regarding both India and the United States are of interest as well.

Elizabeth Gaskell

Of course as a lover of women's literature and of 19th century literature, I am a great fan of the Bronte sisters, especially Charlotte. But one of the benefits and joys of being privy to the 1970s "rediscovery" of many women authors was reading another great women author of that time period, Elizabeth Gaskell. Gaskell was quite well known during her own lifetime, but had been close to forgotten before this "rediscovery." She lived from 1810-1865, raised five children, knew many of the literary figures of the day such as Charles Dickens and John Ruskin, and - impressively - published several novels as well as many novellas, essays, and more. Her novels include "Mary Barton," which I taught in my women's literature classes because it was one of the few novels of that time period that portrayed poverty from a woman's point of view; "North and South"; "Wives and Daughters"; and my favorite, "Cranford." "Cranford" depicts a small village whose inhabitants are mostly older women. There is very little plot, but much about the small events of these women's daily lives. Gaskell is an excellent observer of human nature. She also gives us a touching picture of how these women formed a supportive community in which they looked out for and helped each other, without a lot of fuss and always preserving each other's dignity. BBC has adapted "Cranford" for television several times, most recently in 2007, starring the wonderful actors Judi Dench and Eileen Atkins. Gaskell is also known for her biography of her good friend Charlotte Bronte, a biography well worth reading still, even though later biographers have provided us with new information about Bronte.

"Afterimage"

I am grateful to my friend S. for her recommendation of Canadian writer Helen Humphreys' novel "Afterimage" (Metropolitan Books, 2000), which I have just finished reading. This book is "inspired by the life of Julia Margaret Cameron," the famed photographer, and takes place in 1865. A young maid, Annie Phelan, goes to work for a photographer, Isabelle Dashell, and her mapmaker/would-be explorer husband, Eldon Dashell. Both are much taken with Annie, who is intelligent and well-read as well as beautiful and unspoiled. A great line about Annie's love of books is the following: "that feeling of story rushes through her like a swoon" (p. 32). Isabelle uses Annie as her best model for her photographs, and Eldon shares his thwarted but lingering dreams about Arctic exploration with her. Annie's presence both inspires and unsettles the Dashells, and tragic events unfold. This book shows us much about social class, as well as about what it was like to be a woman, especially a talented but underrated woman artist, at that time. The loneliness and lack of support that Isabelle receives, even from her own husband, are sad to read about. A fellow (male) artist, for example, pontificates that Isabelle's work should be "more domestic" (p. 22). But the novel also shows us how transformative art can be. The main pleasure of this novel, finally, is the gorgeous, evocative, sometimes dreamlike writing.

Edith Wharton

Edith Wharton is a writer I have long treasured. First, she writes beautifully. Second, her stories and characters are engaging. Third, she brilliantly portrays the lives and problems of the women of her time period (and in some ways, women of all time periods). Fourth, she teaches us so much about social class and how it worked and works. As someone who has studied and written about social class issues, I find her work fascinating and instructive in this regard. I also find myself with ambivalent feelings, as her portrayal of the luxurious life of the upper class has its glittering appeal, yet we also see its negative aspects: superficiality, callousness, inequity, even destructiveness. Wharton's "The House of Mirth," a novel I have read and taught several times, is illustrative of everything I have said above. The brilliant and beautiful but increasingly impoverished Lily Bart spends her time with those who have much more than she does, hopes for a marriage that will rescue her, but can't quite bring herself to give up her true self and her true love of a less affluent man in order to save herself financially. This decision costs her dearly, and she spirals downward to a sad end. Wharton was a great student of psychology and the human condition. She chose to write (mostly) about her own milieu, the world of the New York upper class, as that is where she found herself and that is what she could write best about, but she was well aware of other lives and of the wider world, and her work speaks to us still.

"Solar" is "fine"

My friend C. is the person who persuaded me several years ago to start reading Ian McEwan's novels, and I am grateful to her for that; since then I have read and very much enjoyed several of his novels, most notably "Atonement" and "Saturday." A few days ago, in an email about something else, C. mentioned that she was reading McEwan's current novel, "Solar" (Random House, 2010), and that it was "fine." I had to smile, as the phrase "damning with faint praise" came to mind. I haven't discussed the novel with her since, so I don't know how she feels about it as she has read more or perhaps finished the novel. But in the meantime I too have been reading "Solar," which I finished last night. I have to agree with C's assessment that it is "fine." I mildly enjoyed it, but it didn't grip me the way some of his other novels have. Perhaps it was because of the pages and pages of prose about physics and solar energy. Of course I admire the idea of solar power, but that doesn't mean I enjoy reading about the scientific details. This probably says more about my limitations than it does about the book, and I am sure some readers truly savor the very parts that I skim over. Or perhaps my lack of involvement was because the main character, Michael Beard, is -- intentionally, as I heard the author say in a radio interview -- a rather unlikable, completely self-centered character who doesn't connect to other human beings very well, even his five ex-wives, his small daughter, his dozens of lovers, and his scientific and business colleagues. Of course main characters do not have to be likable in order for a book to be good or even great, but such choices on the part of the author do make it harder for the reader to get emotionally involved with the story. I do note though that the power of seeing a story through a certain character's perspective is very strong: I found myself rooting for Beard even when he was covering up a crime, and then being appalled at myself for doing so!

"Lark and Termite"

In a bookstore yesterday, I saw that the novel "Lark and Termite" (Knopf, 2009), by Jayne Anne Phillips, is now in paperback (Vintage, 2010). Seeing the stack of paperback copies reminded me of how much I liked this compelling novel when I read it last year, despite having had some mixed feelings about Phillips' writing in the past. I believe it is her best book so far. It is the story of Termite, a little boy who is very disabled yet has a striking personality and loving temperament, and Lark, his nine-years-older half-sister who loves him dearly and is his main caregiver. Their bond is extremely close, made closer by the fact that they have few reliable and available adults in their lives. Their aunt does as much as she can, but she works long hours to support them and thus is gone most of the time. There is also a powerful back story about Termite's father, who was a soldier in Korea, and whom Termite never met. This is a truly original novel, as well as a moving one, with strong characters, and a sad but inspiring story.

"The Private Lives of Pippa Lee"

"The Private Lives of Pippa Lee" (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2008), by Rebecca Miller, is an eccentric little novel. Pippa, 50ish, has been married to Herb, 80, for 30 years, and they have just moved to a retirement community. Pippa loves Herb but feels out of place and vaguely unsettled in her new home. The story flashes back to Pippa's very troubled relationship with her mother, her adventures and misadventures as a very young woman, and the drama of her early years with Herb. Back in the present, various surprising events ensue, leading to some new beginnings. (I don't want to give away the plot twists.) The tone of the novel is an odd mixture of light and dark, but Pippa is an intriguing character, and the originality of her personality keeps us reading. Although I have a slight feminist reservation about mentioning the following, believing that women shouldn't be identified by the men in their lives, I will tell you that Rebecca Miller is the daughter of Arthur Miller and is married to Daniel Day-Lewis. (I resolved my concerns by realizing that I would have given you this information if the genders had been reversed; besides, the connections are just too interesting not to pass on!) Miller has also made this novel in to a movie, which I haven't seen, but may look for now.

"The Professor"

I seem to be reading more memoirs than ever...hmmm...not sure what that means, if anything... I just finished a new one: "The Professor, and other writings" (HarperCollins, 2010), by Terry Castle. Castle is a professor at Stanford University, but is not the professor in the book's title. The book is actually a collection of essays, but each of them is written through a memoiristic lens. Whether the topic of the essay is the writer Susan Sontag, the artist Agnes Martin, the musician Art Pepper, or the author's mother, the real topic is always Castle herself. This is by design, as the author has found herself tiring of traditional scholarly writing, and choosing to include herself and her life in her writing. This focus does not come across as (very) self-centered or arrogant, but as an exploration of her life and experiences, and of how they shed light on other topics, and vice versa. The longest essay by far (at almost 200 pages) is "The Professor," which describes a lesbian affair Castle had during graduate school, some three decades ago, with a charismatic but destructive professor. The story is full of drama, intrigue, shock, despair, humiliation, and even a bit of humor. Although the affair was short-lived, it had a major influence on the author, and it is only now, these many years later, that she feels ready to process and write about what happened. As she tells the story, we also learn much about Castle's life before and after this episode. She is now a well-known professor, the author of several well-received scholarly books (e.g., "The Apparitional Lesbian: Female Homosexuality and Modern Culture"), and in a long, happy relationship with her partner Blakey. Castle is an engaging writer, adept at weaving her story into the various stories of others included in this collection.

Birthday Thanks for All Things Book-Related

As today is my birthday, I am using today's post to pause and thank all the people and institutions that have allowed me to have a life full of the joys of books and reading. First, I thank my dear parents for reading to my brothers and me, for being role models of people who love to read, and for always making sure we had access to plenty of good books. Next I thank all my teachers, from childhood through graduate school, especially my English teachers and professors. In addition, I thank libraries and librarians, bookstores and those who work in them, publishers, editors, literary critics, book reviewers, and good friends who are fellow readers. Most of all, I thank the writers of all the books I have read over the years. I feel fortunate to live in a time and place that provide abundant access to books, and to have the education and resources to take advantage of these reading opportunities. So I send a huge "thank you" out to everyone involved in the world of books. And I send a special thank you too to those of you who read this blog!

"Tamalpais Walking"

One of the joys of living in beautiful Marin County is seeing Mount Tamalpais from many different angles throughout the county, and in many different lights throughout the day. We live quite close to this lovely landmark, so I was happy to peruse "Tamalpais Walking: Poetry, History, and Prints" (Heyday Books, 2009), by Tom Killion and Gary Snyder. Killion grew up in the shadow of Mount Tam, as it is affectionately known, and has made a series of prints of and from the mountain, many of which are featured in this book; the prints are strongly influenced by the style of Japanese woodcuts. Killion also contributes essays about the history of the mountain. The great poet Gary Snyder, who was affiliated with but also independent from the Beat movement, provides poems he has written over his years of walking Mount Tam. He took the tradition of "walking meditation" from his time in Japan, Nepal, and elsewhere, and began walking up and around Mount Tam in the same meditative fashion, and then writing about it. A few writings from others who often walked Mount Tam, such as Kenneth Rexroth and Jack Kerouac, are also included here. This large, beautifully produced volume is a wonderful weaving together of the prints, the essays, and the poetry. The prints are stunning and the poems are evocative. An added attraction for those of us who have treasured Gary Snyder's writing since the late 1960s is revisiting his poetry in this specific local context. Still another draw, for me, is the good memory of hearing Snyder read his poetry when I was in college. So this book resonates with me on a number of levels. But you don't have to live near Mount Tamalpais to appreciate this gorgeous volume, one that is clearly a labor of love on the part of Killion and Snyder.

"The Three Weissmanns of Westport"

"The Three Weissmanns of Westport" (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2010) is the latest novel by Cathleen Schine, known for her earlier novels "Alice in Bed," "The Love Letter," and "The New Yorkers," among others. Schine has a light, humorous style, while addressing real issues, difficulties, and sad situations (here, divorce, financial troubles, miscommunications among family members, and more). The novel is loosely based on Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility," but set in contemporary times, and with its own twists. A mother and two daughters -- here, middle-aged rather than young as in Sense and Sensibility -- are suffering genteel poverty and various setbacks, and move to a cottage provided by a generous, jovial cousin. Both daughters fall in love and are badly let down by their love interests. One daughter, Annie -- who represents Sense -- is responsible and keeps her sorrow inside, while the other daughter, Miranda -- representing Sensibility -- is sulky, dramatic, and self-centered in displaying her unhappiness. The two sisters and the mother love and support and even balance each other. And, as in the original novel, it turns out that each of the daughters actually shares some aspects of the other's character. There are some surprises at the end of the story, adding to the delight and enjoyability of this well-written confection of a novel.

"Something Is Out There: Stories"

Richard Bausch is a writer, like Charles Baxter (see my post of 3/22/10), of whom I have been peripherally aware, but whose writing I have read very little of. He has published eleven novels and eight short story collections, several of which have been well-reviewed, well-received, and in some cases have won awards. A recent positive review of his new collection of short stories, "Something Is Out There" (Knopf, 2010), nudged me to sample his work. On the whole,I enjoyed the stories, and admired Bausch's writing. The stories focus on love, friendship, marriage, family, and all the mix-ups and miscommunications that often accompany those topics. Bausch is able to inhabit the minds of his characters, including women characters, in a convincing way. What stood out for me, in reading these stories, was a sort of mildness that pervades his stories, lulling readers into feeling that not much is happening. I personally sometimes appreciate this lack of overt drama and intensity. The rewarding qualities of Bausch's writing are the subtle undercurrents, the silent questions, the unspoken or indirect interchanges he so skillfully delineates. The import of some of his stories takes a while to sneak up on readers. I don't mean to imply that there are no events or emotions to be found; these are certainly present, and make readers want to keep reading. But the understated style shows that the author trusts readers to fill in some blanks themselves. Although this book is not one that would make me buttonhole my friends and demand that they immediately read it, it is a thoughtful, rewarding collection of stories.

Father-Daughter Reading

I recently read a New York Times article titled "A Father-Daughter Bond, Page by Page" (March 21, 2010; http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/21/fashion/21GenB.html), which described a father and daughter who often read together, and decided when she was in fourth grade to read together for 100 straight bedtimes. When they finished those 100 evenings of reading, they decided to keep going to 1,000, and finally kept going for 3,218 nights (over nine years), until the daughter's first day of college. Even when the father, Jim Brozina, was traveling, he would read to his daughter Kristen on the phone. They called their extended nightly reading "The Streak." Jim is a single father, so reading together was a special bond that helped keep him and Kristen going through the sad times of the leaving of Kristen's mother, the death of her grandparents, and her seven-year-older sister's going off to college. Kristen says, "The Streak was stability when everything else was unstable." Kristen and her father began The Streak with "The Tin Woodman of Oz," progressed through other children's books to Harry Potter, Agatha Christie, Dickens, and Shakespeare, ending by circling back to "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" on Kristen's first day at college. Jim has built a collection of over 700 of the books he and Kristen read together, and will pass them down to her to read to her own children. I love this story, as it embodies the wonderful experience, connection, continuity, and comfort that parents reading with their children can provide. As I am sure many of you do, I have fond memories of my parents' reading to me, and equally fond memories of my reading to my own daughter. And there is no better way to launch a child on a lifetime of reading. Here's to Jim and Kristen Brozina for their inspiring and touching story!

Book Flashes

Sometimes as I am walking or driving, flashes of characters, bits of dialogue, and traces of elusive scenes dart unbidden through my mind. Here I do not mean whole, coherent scenes and thoughts (which I also have on other occasions!), but jumbled, inchoate, dreamlike images and sensations that don't stay long enough to analyze. On the one hand, this is slightly bothersome in a tantalizing way, as I can seldom remember or figure out which specific novels these visiting "excerpts" come from. On the other hand, it is strangely comforting, as it reminds me of all the company I carry in my head, the throng of wonderful characters, scenes, events, and knowledge...knowledge of the immense variety of human life and experience...knowledge of a wider and more complex world than I could ever experience in one lifetime without the multiple windows into multiple lives provided by wide reading.

Novels on Women on their own

There are many novels on women alone, women on their own. The works of three twentieth century British women novelists stand out in this regard. They all often focus on lone women, their complicated and often sad entanglements that never seem to last, and their efforts to manage living and making their way alone. Each of the three novelists has a different approach, and employs a different tone. The novels of Jean Rhys (1890-1979), such as "Good Morning, Midnight," "After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie," and "Voyage in the Dark," have a desperate, tragic, hopeless, depressing tone; the main characters are often too dependent on alcohol to help them cope with their loneliness and sometimes poverty. The single women characters of Barbara Pym (1913-1980) take a more humorous, "chin-up" attitude toward life. They are often unhappy, but they believe in making the best of a situation, and keeping up a good front. They are often involved with the arts in a sort of peripheral way, and/or volunteer at their churches (Church of England, of course!); their attitudes are very "British," but often with a slightly satirical edge. Pym's wonderful novels include "Excellent Women," "A Glass of Blessings," "Less than Angels," and "Some Tame Gazelle." The third novelist, Anita Brookner (born in 1928 and still living), also frequently writes about women alone. Her characters are often sad as well, but feel it is their duty to appear calm, cool, collected, somewhat stoic. Brookner's characters don't often have financial problems, and are sometimes well-connected, but they are very reserved and have trouble opening up to anyone about their feelings. Brookner's novels include "Hotel du Lac," "The Rules of Engagement," "Leaving Home," and "The Misalliance." I have read and very much liked most or all of each of these writers' novels, but the author I keep going back to over the years is Barbara Pym. A ridiculous number and variety of authors are -- with no basis or justification -- compared to Jane Austen, but in Pym's case, the comparison is actually apt; although of course NO author can live up to Austen's level of writing, Pym's writing is squarely in the same tradition and style, and Pym is a worthy follower.

Ellen Gilchrist

Although during one time period I read most or maybe all of Ellen Gilchrist's novels, I hadn't read any for many years, until a couple of weeks ago, just before my trip to Boston, when I picked up a paperback copy of "Sarah Conley" (Little, Brown, 1997). As I read it on the airplane, my mental image of an Ellen Gilchrist typical main character came rushing back to me. The character of Sarah Conley embodies the quintessential Gilchrist woman: headstrong, bold, quirky, insecure, alternating in almost whiplash fashion between fearlessness and crippling fear. She is rooted in the South but has sometimes escaped to the North, is deeply connected to but often rebels against her family and its demands, gets involved in multiple messy relationships, and is predictable in her unpredictability. I enjoy reading about her and at the same time sometimes get immensely annoyed at her. I am never sure whether I am meant to admire her, pity her, identify with her, or dislike her. However, she is always intriguing to read about, and the novels she "stars" in (Gilchrist novels are mostly one-women shows) are never boring. And after all, most of us are as full of contradictions as Gilchrist's women are.

On Being a Book Reviewer

One of the pleasures of reading widely is recommending books to others. I have always done this informally, but in my adult life, I have also occasionally done it more formally, through published book reviews. My first taste of such reviewing came perhaps thirty years ago, when for several years, I had a column in the alumni bulletin of the boarding school I attended in India; my column was titled "Books about India." Later I was the book review editor for, and reviewed several books myself for, the journal "Peace Review"; those reviews were of books related to peace and social justice topics. Since then, I have fairly frequently published book reviews in various professional journals in my field and related fields. One of the reasons I so much enjoy writing this blog is that I can informally "review" books of various types that I read for my own enjoyment.

"The Gin Closet"

I have just finished reading, in one big draught (I started it last night and finished it this morning), the novel "The Gin Closet" (Free Press, 2010), by Leslie Jamison. In brief, the plot involves Stella, a young woman unsure about what to do with her life, going to find her long lost aunt, Tilly, who left home after being raped and has spent the past 30 years as an alcoholic and prostitute. This novel is mostly about women: Tilly, Stella, Stella's mother Dora and grandmother Lucy, and Tilly's friends Fiona and Winnie. All are sympathetic characters, despite their frightening weaknesses and vulnerabilities. The men are mostly absent, dangerous, or useless, with a few exceptions, the most important one being Abe, Tilly's grown son, who truly cares about her and tries to save her. The main subjects of the novel are alcoholism and family. Readers are ineluctably confronted with the hard truths of alcoholism, and even when we are given brief reprieves and signs of hope, we are always jarringly and painfully forced back to the reality of the world of the alcoholic. The same dynamic plays out regarding family: the tangles, deep misunderstandings and longlasting resentments, fears, and love are all heartbreakingly portrayed, yet we are granted reprieves and hope as characters reach out and try to help each other. Even when they fail in their efforts, as they usually do, there is a residue of hope and possibility, and of belief in the family connections that are never completely severed. Although my description of "The Gin Closet" may discourage readers, I recommend the novel for its honesty and for the human kindness that leavens the bleakness of the main characters' lives. The author of this novel, amazingly, is only 26 years old, but exhibits the control and mastery of a much older writer.

My 1992 List for Women Students

In 1992, when I gave an invited talk,"Books by and about Women: How They Teach, Nurture, Sustain and Delight Us," in a women's dormitory at the university where I teach, I gave the students a list of women writers of fiction. I recently ran across that list in an old file, and decided to post it here. Although I am less impressed by a few of the listed authors (e.g., Alice Hoffman, Whitney Otto, Marge Piercy, Robb Forman Dew, Diane Johnson, Alice McDermott) now than I was in 1992, I still think it is a pretty good list. If I were to make such a list today, I would include more writers of more varying ethnicities and national backgrounds, as we are fortunate to have more diversity in published authors now than we did back then. Below is the list:

Adams, Alice
Allende, Isabel
Atwood, Margaret
Austen, Jane
Bowen, Elizabeth
Bradley, Marion Zimmer
Bronte, Charlotte
Brookner, Anita
Cather, Willa
Chopin, Kate
Colette
Desai, Anita
Dew, Robb Forman
Drabble, Margaret
Eliot, George
Erdrich, Louise
French, Marilyn
Gaskell, Elizabeth
Gibbons, Kaye
Godwin, Gail
Gordimer, Nadine
Gordon, Mary
Hoffman, Alice
Humphreys, Josephine
Hurston, Zora Neale
Johnson, Diane
Kingsolver, Barbara
Lessing, Doris
Marshall, Paule
Mason, Bobbie Ann
McCorkle, Jill
McDermott, Alice
Miller, Sue
Morrison, Toni
Mukherjee, Bharati
Munro, Alice
Naylor, Gloria
Otto, Whitney
Piercy, Marge
Pym, Barbara
Rhys, Jean
Robinson, Marilynne
Settle, Mary Lee
Simpson, Mona
Tan, Amy
Tyler, Anne
Walker, Alice
Welty, Eudora
Wharton, Edith
Woolf, Virginia

On Not Finishing "Lit"

Mary Karr's first memoir, the searing, raw, and devastating story of her childhood with alcoholic parents, "The Liars' Club" (Viking, 1995), is considered by many to have precipitated the flood of memoirs since then. After "Liars' Club," Karr published another memoir, "Cherry" (Viking, 2000), and now her third memoir "Lit" (Harper, 2009) has appeared. I resisted "Liars' Club" for quite a while, but finally read it at the urging of several friends, and was glad I did. I skipped "Cherry," but good reviews of "Lit" led me to check it out of the library and begin reading. I acknowledge that Karr is a gifted writer, and that her sad, defiant, honest, courageous, and even sometimes funny story is often compelling. But the book also started to feel repetitive and dreary, and although I suppose that is part of the point of a memoir that focuses on alcoholism (this time hers) and its sometimes horrific consequences, I just didn't feel like trudging any further into the story. So I didn't. I stopped reading at page 175, just under halfway through the book. In the past ten years or so, I have increasingly given myself permission to stop reading books that I am not enjoying or am tired of reading or just don't feel like reading more of. I didn't expect "Lit" to be one of those books, but there it is.

What to Keep and What to Let Go

On 3/28/10, I wrote about various ways that books are recycled. I acknowledge, though, that for an individual who is a great reader, it is hard to decide which books to borrow from a library, which to buy and keep, and which to buy and pass on to friends or charities or used bookstores. Even with many bookshelves at home and in my office, I have to regularly and severely control and trim the number of books I keep; there just isn't enough room to keep everything. My general guideline for deciding is that if I think I will only read a book once, I borrow it, or buy it - generally in paperback - and then pass it along. If it is a book that I think I will re-read, or will be useful for my teaching or my writing, or is a reference book, or is a book by one of my very most treasured authors (Austen, most prominently, but also Woolf, Wharton, and Cather), I will buy and keep it. Even with the books I keep, I execute regular "purgings" every year or two, and more extreme purgings every decade or so, and/or when I move to a different house or office. Not only do I give away individual books, but also sometimes whole categories of books, such as books relating to a class I don't plan to teach again. My biggest giveaway took place perhaps 25 years ago, when my parents needed me to take or give away the boxes of books -- many from college days -- that I was still storing with them, years after I had moved away. Doing so was hard, and sad, but in a way exhilarating, as I gave away books to family members, friends, and the beautiful little library in the Northern Michigan community where my parents had a summer cottage. I have to admit that after this event, I felt lighter, freer. This feeling of lightness is -- besides the practical, physical advantage of freeing up bookshelf and storage space, and the knowledge that other readers will enjoy your books -- the main benefit of giving away books. I came to realize that as much as I love books, I actually don't want thousands of them in my possession; they would weigh me down. What I want is to enjoy books, keep some special ones, and pass the rest on. As I mentioned in earlier blog entries (1/24/10 and 1/25/10), I keep a list of what I read; perhaps, among other things, this list is a sort of surrogate for keeping the actual books.