What to Read: Two (very different) Books

At first there was no way I was going to read  a book called Lives Other Than My Own, by Emmanuel Carrere (also a screenwriter and director).  I felt it would be too painful to read.  It’s framed around the death of two people — a four-year-old girl who died in the tsunami in Sri Lanka, and the author’s sister-in-law —  a thirty-three-year-old woman who died in France.  But somehow I picked it up anyway, and once I began, I continued.

I continued to read because once I started, I had the feeling that I was also bearing witness to the lives of a group of wonderful individuals, just as the author does.  And he does it beautifully.  Yes I sobbed reading the story of the child, a girl named Juliette.   And watching the parents in their grief was excruciating, especially as the mother of a young daughter myself.

The majority of the book traces the life of the sister-in-law, also named Juliette.  Her story, as told to Carrere by the people who were closest to her, is incredible and moving.  Carrere writes with humility and kindness and compassion of her life and death.

From a distance, the story of her life is a small, suburban tale.   But up close, and the author takes us very close, it is a life of courage and hope, loss and love, strength and beauty, grace and incredible dignity.

I guess I hope and think that we are all like that in a small way.  We all live our little lives with our petty concerns, our worries, our daily tasks.  But hopefully, when all is said in done, we have lived with grace and strength and that if someone were to look closer, they would inevitably find the vulnerable humanity in each of us, and celebrate the tiny strides we each make every day.

Missing my puppies, who are currently on extended vacation with grandma, I came across The Puppy Diaries, by Jill Abramson (now the executive editor of the NY Times) on my kindle.  Dog memoirs would seem to be a silly genre,  But I’ve read several and they can be quite compelling.  Books about dogs are books about their owners, and about the trials and tribulations of life as seen through a particular relationship.

Scout, the dog in this instance, is a beautiful blond golden retriever, and her owners, Jill and Henry, are empty nesters.   Jill is recovering from depression and a series of serious accidents, and her family urges her to get a dog.  So along comes Scout.  I know something about the healing powers of animals.  My own dogs are wonderful and sweet companions.  So I fell in love with Scout too.  The Puppy Diaries is a sweet and entertaining book which describes with much humor and joy life with Scout.  It made me miss my pups all the more.

Books and Chocolate, a Perfect Pair

I’ve been returning to many pleasures as my eye heals.  First, reading.  I’ve dived into several books about perfume, including books by Mandy Aftel (Essence and Alchemy:  A Book of Perfume and Scents and Sensibilities), Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez (Perfumes, the A to Z Guide) , and Chandler Burr (The Perfect Scent, The Emperor of Scent).

Fascinating books and authors, and inspiring as well to think of the art of perfume and the magic of  flower and plant essences and fragrances.

It’s been “Kindle” reading mostly, which is not quite the same as having a book in hand, flipping back and forth between the chapters.  However for traveling the Kindle has been very convenient.  I have only to think of a book, and it arrives magically and wirelessly.

I visited Dolceforte in Florence.  The first of many visits I hope.  And I purchased a bag of Italian chocolates.  Yummy.  So far I have enjoyed Toscano Red, made by the Tuscan chocolate company Amedei.  Highly recommended.  It’s dark chocolate with red fruits mixed in — strawberries, raspberries, cherries.  the chocolate is dark and smooth and sweet, the fruit is tart and the combination is delicious.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Although this poem by Mary Oliver is titled Summer Day, and it’s winter here, it somehow still fits, with it’s ending words, as a good New Year’s  question to ask.

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

A Memoir about Life and Yoga

I just finished reading Claire Dederer’s book Poser, My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses.  I picked it up after I read a review of it, because it looked like it fit.  And it does.  Like Dederer, I’m the daughter of a single hippie mother. Like Dederer, I have children, I’ve been married ten years, I’m a writer, and I do yoga.  Though I am relatively new to yoga — I’ve really only been doing it for a year.

I started yoga at first because I one night I was reading to my children, and after I finished the book, I tried to sit up — and, well, I could barely sit up, and I realized how weak some of my core muscles had become.  Also, I enjoy running sometimes, but I had grown tired of pounding my body around in Austin’s exquisite summer heat.  Also, I was feeling bad about my posture, I wanted to open up and get stronger.

Yoga is not for everyone, but it gives me something that I never had before.  For whatever reason, and I know I have written about this before, I grew up being uncomfortable in my body.  Feeling awkward, not at home.  Sometimes I think it must have happened at birth — I was injured when I was born and I spent the first several weeks alone without my mother in the hospital.  Maybe that gave me a sort of insecurity in my body  – not being touched enough during those early weeks.  Or maybe not.  Maybe there are other reasons, maybe it is just one of my challenges.  Yoga helps me feel at home in my body.  Yes stronger, leaner, straighter, and feeling more beautiful too, but it also gives me that feeling of being at home, comfortable.

As someone who as always searched for a home, (I think we all search for that, really — a physical home for ourselves and our families, an emotional home in the hearts of those we love) I didn’t realize that in one sense, finding a home in myself was the first step.

Also, another good thing about yoga for me:  I am able to release my cares and worries and troubles and questions during my yoga class.  Maybe it’s something about the breathing, or maybe it’s a concentration thing — upside down in a head stand, it’s hard to think of anything but that one fact of being upside down in a head stand.  So during yoga class I just breathe deeply and move in ways that feel both delicious and wonderful, and also hurt too, in a way  – that good, stretching kind of hurt-so-good.  Through all that, I can just let go of everything else.

And yoga, first in a physical way, but absolutely also in an emotional way too, has taught me to be patient with myself, and to forgive myself and to let go of my fears too.  This all sounds very deep and philosophical, but the simple truth is, yoga makes me feel good inside and out, all over.  If you had told me two years ago that yoga would be a catalyst for me, I would have laughed.  I have skepticism in me.  Maybe that’s one reason it took me so long to try it out.

I’m reminded of this quote by Rainer Maria Rilke, because somehow it speaks a little to what I have learned in the year I have been doing yoga:

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps gradually, without noticing it, you will live along some distant day into the answer. ~Letters to a Young Poet

Reading about Home with Meghan Daum

I just finished reading Meghan Daum’s latest book Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived In That House.  It is funny and poignant look at her efforts to find happiness through moving and decorating and renovating.  She moves from New York City, to Nebraska, to LA, back to Nebraska, and back to LA as she searches for a place to call home.  A lot of generation X-ers and others too have moved a lot, both as children and as adults.  I did a quick count of the houses I have lived in from birth onward and have come up with 22, and I am missing a few — even as I write I am still counting upwards.

This kind of rootlessness, restlessness and wanderlust that can be both exhilarating and deepening, as well as debilitating.

Meghan spent her early childhood in Austin (Keep Austin Wierd) and was sad to leave it for the suburban paradise of Ridgewood NJ.  My own wanderings touch upon hers here and there.  I grew up very near Ridgewood in Rockland County, NY — a suburb of New York City that manages to be both gritty and lovely at the same time. We both stopped of for years in New York City and then here I am in Austin.  She’s in LA.

Its a good book.  And she tells us what we all know, but it’s good to hear again:  it’s not about the perfect knob from Anthropologie or the perfect paint color;  home is where the heart is.

Travel Toys and Activities, Good for Rainy Days Too

Traveling is always a challenge with little ones (and sometimes with big ones too).

However with spring break here, and summer around the corner, traveling maybe in the future for many of us.

And spring also brings extra rain showers.  A day of rain, inside with the children, can be a challenge.  It’s fun to play in the rain, but sometimes you have to stay inside if the storm gets too rough.

So how to keep children entertained for hours of rain or on a plane?

Here are a few suggestions (in no particular order):

Tissue Art

Etch a Sketch (A classic from way back, still does the trick).

pot holder loom (Also a classic, and my favorite potholders are those made by my children with this simple loom, though you do have to be extra careful not to burn your fingers when using them)!

Mandela Art

Maze Books can also be fun.

Colorku (not so good for the airplane, but nice for rainy days)!

Knitting, crocheting and sewing and weaving are also all fun!

Felting and making tissue stars are great activities for rainy days.

And books too — books the children can read, or that you can read to them.  My children are ages 4, 6 and 8 and the two older ones are really enjoying chapter books now.

A few of our recent favorites include:

Isabel Wyatt books, Arthur Ransome books, The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder, as well as The Wishing Chair by Enid Blyton and The Princess and the Goblin by George Macdonald.

Please send me an email or leave a comment with your suggestions of books for children and rainy day/traveling toys and activities.  Have a good trip and enjoy the rain!

Looking Back: Seven Memoirs of 2009

For me, Books and Home go together like Peas and Carrots.

A fire in the fireplace, a light snow flurry, and the opportunity to curl up with a good book = a very nice evening.

I love to read — fiction, nonfiction, newspapers, backs of cereal boxes, menus and directions and ticket stubs.  I’ll save the list of the best cereal boxes for later.   For now, here are my seven picks for memoirs of 2009:

Born Round, by Frank Bruni

My mother is not Italian, but she reminds me of Frank Bruni’s mother — generous, expansive, amazing in the kitchen (she made my step-father eight cakes for his birthday last year). I especially loved reading about Bruni’s childhood, many of the scenes are unforgettable slices of “home.”

The Possibility of Everything, by Hope Edelman

Written about in this blog, (click here to see the post and the trailer) a moving story about a mother and her attempts to heal her troubled daughter.

The Body Broken, by Lynn Greenberg

About unrelenting physical pain and it’s emotional consequences.

Beg, Borrow, Steal, by Michael Greenberg

Wry, funny, touching, engaging — I’m a big fan of Michael Greenberg.  Hurry Down Sunshine, his memoir about his daughter’s “crack-up” is an equally compelling memoir.  And, especially as a writer, I really like Beg, Borrow, Steal.

Mennonite in a Black Dress, by Rhoda Janzen

So funny that you cry reading, and sad too, so you cry again.  Her language is exquisite.  She is a poet, and it shows.

Lit,   by Mary Karr

About messing everything up really badly — as a mother, as a wife.  Karr has a wonderful facility with language and is refreshingly honest.

Enemies of the People, by Kati Marton

A moving story about the writer’s childhood in Hungary and her parent’s imprisonment.

Crazy Love by Leslie Morgan Steiner

In one sense, we are all broken, and we all spend a lot of time picking up the pieces.  Leslie Morgan Steiner shows us how she was torn apart as a result of an abusive relationship, and how she put herself together again.

There are Many Possibilities

Along the lines of The Horse Boy,  I recently read a new book by Hope Edelman titled:  The Possibility of Everything.  it’s a memoir about Hope and her three-year-old daughter, Maya.  One day Maya starts to converse with an ‘imaginary friend” named Dodo.  Strange things begin to happen.  Dodo seems to encourage Maya to do all sorts of puzzling things.  Indeed, after a while, Dodo doesn’t seem so “imaginary,” and he doesn’t act like a “friend.”  In fact, to Maya and to her family, Dodo is very real, and his presence is malevolent.  They consult teachers and their pediatrician, and try on their own to get rid of Dodo, but he remains, his presence ever stronger and more influential and malicious.  Finally, at a loss, the family travels to Belize and consults with a traditional healer there.  The Possibility of Everything is a wonderful book about a mother’s concern for her daughter, and a family’s quest for healing.

I haven’t read the book but I read the book review

newborn

The New York Times reviewed the book Nurtureshock a couple of weeks ago.  I haven’t read the book, however I found the review very interesting.  It seems as if it is not just me and all of my mommy friends who are struggling with motherhood and striving to provide a nourishing home for our families.

As described in the review: ““nurture shock” is the panic common to new parents that “the mythical fountain of knowledge is not magically kicking in.” It’s that gut-pummeling doubt that hits the moment you bring your first child home from the hospital— “They let us keep this thing?” — and snowballs from there.”

I remember when I brought my first child home from the hospital, he started crying and my husband and I were at a loss at what to do, we looked at him with sorrow and apology, saying softly “forgive us, we are just beginners.”

Over time I learned more about how to soothe a crying baby, though, truth be told, I still feel like a beginner as my children grow into uncharted territories of their childhood.

Making a Family Home is my book about navigating motherhood, home life and the domestic arts.  Home is the basis for healthy childhood development, and that, of course, leads to world peace.  If we can nourish our children at home, and give them what they need, then there is a lot of hope for our children’s future.  I hope my book can offer a little inspiration for making a family home that is a place where children can thrive and become who they are meant to be.

Nina Sankovitch reads too

womanreading

Nina Sankovitch is a woman after my own heart.  Check out this article in the NY Times (and her blog ) about her quest to read a book a day for an entire year!   I love to read too and like Nina, I also find that reading helps me understand myself and the people around me.

I write every morning (except when my children are home sick, or on weekends when the household is full and crazy, or when I have a meeting, or when I am thirsty — I have an array of excuses, one of which I am inevitably obliged to conquer each day before chaining myself to my desk).   However, I have found that plopping down in front of the TV before bed does not help me the next morning when I try to write — something about the way people talk on TV, maybe it’s the soundbite, the short scenes, the target audiences — there is something about the programs I am drawn to that does not tend to inspire me when I wake up the next day and sit down to write (I must admit I am on occasion drawn to a trashy reality shows, but I have to turn the channel when everyone starts fighting and I also find myself watching  women trying on wedding dresses, a show noted for its soothing mediocrity and its inability to challenge my concentration, so that I am free to think of other things as the TV drones on in the background).

But reading does inspire me.  I will qualify:  reading a good book inspires me.  I love reading for pleasure, yes, but also reading with an eye to how it is an author writes.  That is interesting too.

Of course Nina knows, as I do, that reading (and writing too) takes time, and something has to give.  So, as I mentioned, I’ve given up watching TV at night.  And I’m planning on giving up wasting time surfing the internet and checking out ebay for cool purses.