What I Read Online

Most of us spend enough time online now to count it as part of our daily reading. I try to limit my time online, but I see that it has gradually crept up over the past few years. Below is what I usually read online.
Daily:
1. E-mail, of course! This includes personal email, email related to my university, email related to my academic work, email from various organizations I belong to, etc.
2. Facebook. I know there are pros and cons, but I enjoy being in touch with so many people from different parts of my life. And my FB friends alert me to various news stories and social/political issues as well.
3. The New York Times. I read the headlines, and read a few articles in more detail.
4. InsideHigherEd. This is a sort of newsletter for academics.
5. The Writer's Almanac. I have written about this before; this comes from NPR; there is a daily poem, and some information about a couple of different authors or other literature-related topics.
6. Michael Bauer's blog on restaurants and issues related to dining out. Bauer is the San Francisco Chronicle's restaurant critic.
Sporadically:
1. Blogs by my USF colleagues.
2. Other restaurant blogs (besides Bauer's).
3. The Huffington Post.
4. Other political blogs and websites when I am alerted to them by my FB friends.
5. Blogs that let me catch up on what's happening on my guilty-pleasure TV shows that I don't actually have time to watch.

Conference Reading and Writing

Since it is conference season for me, I have been thinking of all the types of reading and writing that go into professional conferences. Each type or genre has its own requirements, its own peculiarities. First, those who hope to present papers must either be invited or submit proposals. Proposals usually include a 200-300 word summary and a 50 word abstract for the program. If one’s proposal is accepted, then the paper itself needs to be written. The classic conference paper is about 20 minutes long, and is read aloud, sometimes with a few added improvisations along the way. Papers are usually accompanied by power point slides and/or handouts and/or reference/resource lists. Variations on the classic paper include the plenary or keynote speech (longer, more prominent), the colloquium/panel (comprised of several papers and often a response from a discussant), the workshop (more hands-on), the brief research report, the poster session, and the facilitated discussion group, all with their own writings and readings. Other conference related writings/readings are the various conference calls for proposals, announcements, reminders, the conference program (often a fairly thick, handsome book), and numerous flyers found around the conference site (more calls for papers for more conferences, announcements of meetings, etc.). Then there is the vast exhibit hall where publishers exhibit their books, especially new books. I have found that it takes me a couple of hours to go through the hall, and I usually buy (or when fortunate, am given) several new books. And more writing everywhere: the message board, lists of tours and local restaurants, signs on the doors of conference halls and rooms, and more. As befits an academic gathering, attendees are surrounded with language throughout the whole process. I find myself appreciating and enjoying most elements of this onslaught of words. And although I am too busy at conferences to read much else (a quick look at the daily newspaper and at my email is about all I manage), if I want my daily dose of reading in one form or another, I only have to look around me at the conference site.

"Play It As It Lays"

When I think of “Play It As It Lays” (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1970), by Joan Didion, as I actually have fairly often over the years since I first read it, I think of her iconic, anomic portrayals of Los Angeles, and in particular of the indelible scenes of the main character Maria’s aimlessly driving the Los Angeles freeways for hours and days at a time. Didion’s characters, connected to or on the fringes of the movie business, seem for the most part to be a sad bunch. Her locales in and around Los Angeles (as well as in Las Vegas) are sad and depressing as well. Having just read (and written about here on 3/21/11) another California book, Alice Adams’ “The Last Lovely City,” I was struck by the contrast. Adams writes of the beauty of San Francisco, and of comfortably affluent, quietly strong, get-on-with-it women; Didion never focuses on the beauty of her Los Angeles surroundings, and writes of lonely, depressed-despite-their-affluence-and-even-near-fame women. Granted, Didion’s book was published in 1970 and Adams’ in 1999, a time period during which women’s lives and opportunities opened up dramatically. But although both books are clearly of their time periods, those time periods are not the main point. Not surprisingly, the almost elemental, depressing scenes of “Play It As It Lays” stay with the reader longer than the more nuanced, more purposely ordinary scenes in ”The Last Lovely City.” And Didion’s characters, the people surrounding Maria, mostly seem to lead empty lives, as well as being highly unlikable. It seems that unhappy always trumps happy in literature, at least in terms of lingering in the reader’s mind.

"The Last Lovely City: Stories"

I have mentioned before that I enjoy the late San Francisco writer Alice Adams' fiction. I read most of her fiction in the 1980s and 1990s, but haven't read much of her work for some years now. However, on a recent trip, I re-read one of her short story collections, "The Last Lovely City" (Washington Square Press, 1999), and thoroughly enjoyed it. I admit I took it partly because it is a slim paperback that I picked up at the library sale, perfect for slipping into my carry-on bag for the airplane. But reading Adams' work again reminded me how beautifully she writes. She makes it look effortless, so much so that her work is in danger of being undervalued. But besides loving the gorgeous descriptions of San Francisco (where I work) and Marin County (where I live), I was impressed by her portrayals of strong but understated women. Her women characters are mostly middle-aged, and almost always middle or upper middle class, sometimes with professional careers (for example, one main character who appears in several stories is a psychiatrist) and/or sometimes married to men with professional careers. They live comfortably. Some might dismiss them for those reasons. But Adams does not allow us to label or stereotype these women. They are not perfect by any means; however, they endure difficulties but (mostly) take them in stride, make a minimum of fuss, and get on with their lives. They live through love affairs, breakups, marriages, divorces, moves, and other life changes. Adams writes about these with great insight but with a very light touch. I am now planning to go back and re-read some of her other fiction.

"Infinite City: A San Francisco Atlas"

One of my Christmas gifts was the book “Infinite City: A San Francisco Atlas” (University of California Press, 2010), by noted San Francisco essayist and environmentalist Rebecca Solnit. It is a lovely, fascinating book that is hard – no, impossible! – to categorize or adequately describe, and well worth reading. Each chapter has a theme from San Francisco history and culture, illustrated with a beautifully drawn and colored map showing places that relate to that theme, along with other drawings and photographs, and accompanied by an essay either by Solnit herself or by another notable San Francisco writer. The themes are far from predictable, and there are fanciful but meaningful juxtapositions that are illuminating as well as great fun to read. For example, the map in the chapter “Monarchs and Queens: Butterfly Habitats and Queer Public Spaces” shows these two sets of places within San Francisco and how they overlap, and is illustrated with butterflies and a gorgeous drag queen in butterfly mode. The essay accompanying this chapter is written by my USF colleague, the noted poet Aaron Shurin, and is a masterful, moving, inspiring mini-history of gay and queenly history and places in San Francisco. He ends the essay as follows: “This is a map of a place people come to for wingspread and wigmaking, for monarchial identity and queenly conversions, for animal nature and long morning light; for soul.” A few other chapter titles will give you an idea of the breadth and originality of the themes: “Green Women: Open Spaces and Their Champions”; “Truth to Power: Race and Justice in the City’s Heart”; “Poison/Palate: The Bay Area in Your Body” (gourmet locations juxtaposed with hazardous locales); “Who Am I Where? Quien Soy Donde?: A Map of Contingent Identities and Circumstantial Memories”; “Dharma Wheels and Fish Ladders: Salmon Migrations, Soto Zen Arrivals…” and many more. The book is beautifully made, clearly a labor of love. “Infinite City” is obviously of particular interest to those of us who live and/or work in San Francisco, and to all who love the city. But I believe it will also be of interest to anyone who is interested in culture and social issues, as well as to those who love maps, atlases and wonderful writing. Further, it will appeal to those who believe in books as powerful cultural, artistic, and social forces.

Successful Library Bookstore Raises Funds for Library

“S.F. library nonprofit stores a success story” is the title of a 3/14/11 story in the San Francisco Chronicle. What a promising title! And sure enough, this is a positive, uplifting story –- something we all need these difficult days –- about the Readers Bookstore, the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library’s used bookstore in beautiful Fort Mason, in a gorgeous setting by the Bay (one of my favorite places in San Francisco). This bookstore received 750,000 donated books last year. It operates like a used bookstore, but with lower prices, and the sales last year brought in $1.2 million to help support the library and its programs. People are happy to donate their books to such a good cause. One 79-year-old woman who collects books from her neighbors twice a month and donates them says, “It’s spreading books around. It’s keeping books alive. And everything we can do to keep libraries in our civilization is good.” Well said.

"You Know When the Men Are Gone"

Two days ago, I wrote about a memoir of an Army wife. I have now just finished a fictional counterpart to that book, a collection of short stories on the same theme: military families. The book is “You Know When the Men are Gone” (Amy Einhorn, 2011), by Siobhan Fallon, who is herself a military wife whose husband was twice deployed to Iraq. These linked stories tell of the pain felt both by soldiers fighting in terrible conditions and worrying about their families back home and by those families themselves worrying about their soldiers, meanwhile struggling to make semi-normal lives for themselves while their husbands and fathers are far away. And then when there should be a happy ending – when the men come back – there is often new pain as a couple finds themselves strangers who cannot understand each other. One story’s title, “You Survived the War, Now Survive the Homecoming,” encapsulates this sad irony. Let me note here that in this book, the soldiers are all men and the ones waiting and coping (or not) at home are all women; obviously in real life, this is not always the case, but it is the most common situation by far. Fallon’s characters are very well-drawn and believable, and her stories are wrenching but well-told. The stories alternate between the everyday struggles and the harsh and sometimes tragic special circumstances that happen to so many military families. There is a vividness and immediacy to the stories that is impressive. Some of the stories are inventive and surprising; one, for example, tells of a deployed soldier so eaten up with fear that his wife is unfaithful to him that he secretly comes home on his leave and hides in the family basement to spy on her. Most of all, this book, like the Burana memoir I wrote about on 3/13, gives us insight into a world about which most of us have little idea. We know the broad outlines from news reports, but these stories take us behind the scenes to a painful, complicated place that should be more widely known.