"Going Away Shoes"

"Going Away Shoes" (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2009), by Jill McCorkle, is a little book (literally little, about 5" by 7") full of short stories that pack a big emotional punch. I have read several of McCorkle's novels ("Tending to Virginia," Ferris Beach") and short story collections over the years and have always enjoyed them. I also feel a (tenuous, granted) connection to her because she used to teach at the university where my daughter went for her undergraduate degree, and because she is the friend of a friend of a friend. So I picked this new book up expecting to like it, and I was not disappointed. Her stories are generally about women and their relationships with their husbands, lovers, children, and extended families. Those relationships are often troubled, but always valued for their human connections. McCorkle's stories remind us that we are all human, all flawed, but that there is redemption because of the fact that we are all connected, all enmeshed in our worlds of family and close friends. These stories allow us to accept imperfection and know that life and relationships are not "all or nothing"; they are messy and unpredictable, but there is a deep vein of human connection that allows us to keep going, and even be happy, despite the messiness. McCorkle is especially good at describing marriages that have survived challenges and crises but continue because of a deep connection that overrides the problems. I don't mean that the stories all have happy endings; some of them are scary, sad and wrenching. But the overall message or feeling of the collection is life-affirming.

Guest Blog Two: Reading Still Opens New Worlds

Yesterday I posted my friend C.’s first guest blog entry, on “The Pleasures of Re-reading”; today I am very pleased to post, below, her second guest entry, “Reading Still Opens New Worlds.” Thank you, C., for these two illuminating entries!

C.:
"Thanks to an extraordinary teacher, I first went to Japan almost forty years ago. Since then, the land, the history, the people, and the culture of Japan have enriched my life immeasurably. My bookcases bulge with books about Dai Nippon. But with all these years and all those books, there are some things Japanese that I never really "got." Until four years ago haiku was a good example. I suppose I thought about haiku the way Emily Dickinson used to be thought of -- precious (horrors!). So when I was invited to a talk at the Japanese Embassy's Culture and Information Center by Abigail Friedman, the author of "The Haiku Apprentice" (Stone Bridge Press, 2006), I decided to go so I could hear what she had to say and get a copy of the book for my English-speaking friend in Japan who is a haiku devotee. At the lecture I encountered another extraordinary teacher. Ms. Friedman's talk and her book lifted the top off my head and opened my heart to the many pleasures of haiku. Since then I've been swimming happily in Basho, Buson, Issa, Shiki, Richard Wright, and other American haiku poets. I've also been exploring translations and anthologies of Japanese poetry -- haiku and other forms -- such as "The Manyoshu" (Ten Thousand Leaves) and "Hyakunin Isshu" (One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each). One extraordinary book has yielded years of beauty already and assured more such pleasures in the future."

Guest Blog: The Pleasures of Re-reading

Readers of this blog may remember my 2/16/10 post about “reading friends,” in which I particularly focused on my longtime, extremely well-read, dear friend C., with whom I have had my “best, longest running, most continuous book conversation” over a period of 39 years. In honor of that long conversation, and because I value her opinions so much, I invited C. to write a guest blog entry or two, and she kindly agreed, contributing two posts under the joint title of “Still Reading After All These Years.” Today, I am honored and pleased to post her first entry, on “The Pleasures of Re-reading,” below; her second guest post will follow tomorrow.

C.:
"I started out thinking I'd write about re-reading books I read forty years ago. But time is ever the trickster; it's actually more than forty years ago. Among the books I've re-read recently are books I read in college -- in 1968, that year of exhilarating and tragic turmoil. Three, in particular. First, Emily Dickinson. I don't know what was more radical: the teacher, who at that point was the only English Department faculty member who showed up to teach in a suit and tie, or his statement to the lounging crowd of bored students that he intended to prove to us that Emily Dickinson was the greatest American poet of all time. Unheard of, and indeed, ridiculous at that time. But that is also exactly what he proceeded to do. I am still grateful every time I find myself leafing through my Emily. Second, Joseph Conrad, and "Heart of Darkness" in particular. The overwhelming richness of the language, the lush pairings of adjectives and nouns. As I re-read, I kept dropping the book so I could jot down those wonderful phrases in my haiku notebook. And finally, Herman Melville. "Moby Dick." Reading it was a thrill -- again. I walked through beautiful woods, I swam through beautiful corals, the pathways still familiar, beauty re-revealed and renewed. With a thrill, I remembered individual sentences, while also remembering the thrill I felt reading them the first time. In a world where we're often overwhelmed and so much seems to slip away from us, it is pure pleasure to realize the power of literature and memory."

My (Minority Opinion) Affection for Semicolons

A couple of days ago, I happened to look down at the keyboard on my five-year-old laptop at home, and suddenly noticed that the most smudged key -- a sure sign of frequent usage -- was the semicolon key. I chuckled to myself, as I have long had a special (geeky, I know) affection for the semicolon, which is not, I know, the majority opinion. Many English instructors and others interested in language believe that few people know how to use semicolons correctly any more. For example, a few years ago, one of my daughter's high school English teachers was so exasperated with their misuse that she preemptively banned their use in her students' papers. I was somewhat annoyed at this edict, as I had made sure that my daughter knew how to use them! I also make sure my students know how to use them. In a nice coincidence, a day after I noticed my smudged semi-colon key, a Facebook friend posted a lovely, graceful 1979 Lewis Thomas essay (from his book "The Medusa and the Snail") about punctuation, which included the following sentences: "I have grown fond of semicolons in recent years. The semicolon tells you that there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added; it reminds you sometimes of the Greek usage. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a period....with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come;... it will get better."

The Thrill of Being Cited

Please forgive today's bit of academic nerdiness, but bear with me: it IS related to writing and reading! As one who came late to academic publishing, I was -- and still am -- probably particularly susceptible to being pleased, even thrilled, when my own publications (journal articles, books, book chapters) started being cited in other scholars' work. Other scholars' mention of one's work in their articles and books is a bit of recognition that means a lot academically, professionally, and personally. Most of all, it is a sign that all the work of writing, revising, submitting, more revising, sometimes getting rejected, still more revising, and finally getting one's writing published is actually validated by others' saying they have read it and found it worth mentioning as support for their own work. Or to boil it down to its basics, and in very non-academic language: People are reading my work! Hurray! People think it is worth mentioning in their publications! It feels great! (I know I am not the only one who feels this way; colleagues/friends have told me they feel the same.)

"True Prep"

"True Prep" (Knopf, 2010), by Lisa Birnbach with Chip Kidd, is a sort of sequel or update to Birnbach's 1980 bestseller, "The Official Preppy Handbook." It, like the earlier book, is a half serious, half tongue-in-cheek compendium of information and advice about the lives of the upper class in the U.S. Topics include schools, colleges, jobs, wardrobes, travels, houses, second houses, food, drink, etiquette, and more. The book is rather non-linear, and is profusely sprinkled with pictures, drawings, diagrams, and lists. Although presented in a "fun," self-deprecating tone, it is clear the authors are describing a social class that does still exist and that they believe is admirable for its history, tradition, and -- to them -- endearing traits. It is also clear that they hope to have it both ways in gaining readers: they hope for readers who will enjoy the book in an ironic, satirical, humorous way, as well as readers who may take it as a useful guide to acting more like members of a class they aspire to. As someone who writes about social class and its effects, I find the U.S.'s ambivalent relationship to class matters interesting and telling. Americans both deny social class differences and are fascinated by those differences, whether in a yearning or a condemnatory manner. "True Prep" captures a bit of this ambivalence, although in a light and indirect way.

The Ever-Fascinating Bloomsbury Group

As many readers know, the Bloomsbury Group of writers, artists, and critics lived, met, wrote, and painted in and around the Bloomsbury area of London (as well as outside of London) before, during, and after World War II. Many of them met through the Stephen family, whose most famous member is Virginia Woolf (about whom I posted on 2/26/10). The other main point of connection was Cambridge University, where most of the male members of the group studied. Besides Virginia Woolf, the most prominent members of the group were her husband Leonard Woolf, the publisher and writer; E.M. Forster, the great novelist; Virginia's sister Vanessa Bell, an artist; Vanessa's husband, Clive Bell, an art critic; Vanessa's lover, Duncan Grant, a painter; John Maynard Keynes, the famous economist; Lytton Strachey, a great and very witty writer; Roger Fry, a painter; and Desmond McCarthy, a critic. There were others on the periphery of the group as well. Many of the members were related professionally, familially, maritally, and sexually. They were known not only for their literary and artistic work, but for being progressive in their ideas about art, literature, politics, economics, and social issues, as well as in their own lifestyles. There have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of books and articles written about this group and its members; it has always had a fascination, even a sort of magic, for those of us who care about literature and art. During their time, and even now, their talent, their dedication to the arts, their flouting of many of society's "rules" and norms, and their intricate and often shifting relationships with each other over time seemed and seem both enviable and the source of much gossip and sometimes disapproval. Over the years, I have read many books by and about this group, their work, and their entanglements, and never grow tired of learning more about them. I also visited (from the outside only) some of their former homes in London. Although I acknowledge that they had their faults, they were and are enormously influential, and -- still -- fascinating!