The Sunday Salon: Time Travel

I read a lot of historical fiction, and the best of it transports me to another place and acquaints me with people whose ideas and experiences and lifestyles are very different from mine.

This week’s reading is doing all of that.

I started the week with Sarah Waters new novel of psychological suspense, The Paying Guests. Set in post WWI London, this hefty tome starts out slowly but builds to a fever pitch of understated tension that doesn’t lift until the very last pages. Waters does a masterful job of creating atmosphere - the dark grittiness of London streets amidst the roiling undercurrent of dissolving class levels perfectly sets the scene for this novel built around crimes of passion. sometimes found it uncomfortable reading, but I was compelled by it all the same... which is the mark of  a good writer, isn’t it?

After finishing it, I headed straight to the library to look out more of Waters books. I brought home The Night Watch, but was equally thrilled to find a copy of Vanessa and Her Sister, a novel by Priya Parmar about Vanessa Stephen Bell and her sister Virginia Woolf. I thought this would make a good diversion from more of Waters’ brand of suspense, and eagerly dove in.

What a delight this is proving to be! Parmar chose to write in Vanessa's voice in the form of diary entries, interspersed with letters and postcards back and forth between all the members of the Bloomsbury group. Having read all of Virginia’s diaries, as well as most of her collected letters, I love voice Parmar has created for Vanessa - warm, loving, but clever and honest. Vanessa is the de facto mother figure for her two brothers and her sister, and Virginia’s episodes of crippling mental illness are always on her mind.  “It hangs over my head like Damocles’ sword,” writes Vanessa on the eve of her wedding to Clive Bell, "that Virginia will go mad.”

Because I’ve found Parmar’s novel so infectious, I’ve was drawn to my own bookshelves and to my old copy of Virginia Woolf, A Biography, published by her nephew Quentin Bell in 1972. Because this book is divided into years, it’s easy to follow along with the biography during the years of the novel. So I get the “authorized” version along with the novelized version.

True literary geek fun, I guess. But on a dark, damp Sunday morning in February, with a fire glowing, coffee brewing, and two snoring dogs at my feet, there’s probably nothing I’d enjoy much more.

The Sunday Salon: Sunday Soothing

With snow falling steadily outside, I can tell the weather forecast is going to prove true. We are in for a good, solid winter storm today, and I’m so thankful neither of us have anywhere to go. 

I am happy to see the last of January, even though we’re beginning this new month with rough weather. January was a stinker of a month. I’ve been sick on and off for most of it, one of my dogs has been sick on and off for most of it, my mom is not doing well. The weather is cold and icy, it’s difficult to get my outside walks in and they often lift my spirits as well as get my blood pumping. 

Then there was the  Parenthood finale. <sob>

Lest you think it is always sweetness and light at chez Becca, do not be fooled. This past month has dipped into the dark side on more than one occasion. So I am in need of soothing. 

I take comfort on days like these in books, in music, in warm snuggles with my animals.  My friend Christa’s beautiful harp CD playing softly in the background. A hot drink, the warmth of the fireplace. A favorite blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The sharp, citrus scent of a Clementine as I separate it into sections, the sweet juicy flavor when I pop it into my mouth. 

Small things that soothe the spirit. I need them in spades today.

January was a good reading month. I finished eight books toward my goal of reading 100 books this year. I don’t normally set reading goals, but after keeping track of my reading for almost 20 years, I notice I always hover between 80-90 books per year. Why not make it 100? I thought this year. 

So I’m working on it. It’s funny how setting that intention has made me more mindful about my reading time. I’ve been more likely to carry a book from room to room, to make sure I have my book in the kitchen to read a few pages while I’m waiting for the oven to preheat or a pan to boil. I’ve been less “guilty” about sitting down in the middle of the day to read for half an hour. I have a purpose! A reading goal! So it’s all for the greater good. 

I’ve also been actively using Goodreads this year, although I’ve been a member for a long time I’ve not used it as a book tracking system. I am also a Goodreads Author, so Life In General has a page there too. 

The last book I read in January was Jo Jo Moyes Me Before You. Several friends told me what a wonderful story it was, and they were not wrong. But it was a tear-jerker - and I probably didn’t need to add any more emotion to an already somewhat emotional week for me. However, I loved it, and highly recommend it. 

I’m starting February reading with a completely different genre - a literary suspense novel by Sarah Waters, The Paying Guests. It won’t be soothing reading, necessarily, but I suspect it will keep me nicely entertained on this snowy winter day. 

The Sunday Salon: Reading Robinson

Gilead, Home, Lila...for the past two weeks I’ve been living with Marilynne Robinson’s characters in these three novels set in the small town of Gilead, Iowa. My heart has ached with them as they look for grace in their lives and relationships. I’ve rejoiced with them over small moments of warmth and closeness. I've pondered with them - why do things happen the way they do? What does it mean to forgive? How do we learn to trust ourselves and the people who profess to love us?

I have to confess. I first read Gilead and Home about three years ago, and was not in love with them. They both seemed so heavy and introspective. I needed more to happen. 

My reaction bothered me. I had heard so much praise for Robinson’s body of work. She is a writer’s writer, I heard. All the readers and writers I respect most love and study her work.

It seems she is an oracle. Why did this book fail to move me?

So when I heard about Lila, the third novel in this grouping that would focus on the woman who married Reverend John Ames of Gilead, the novel that would tell Lila's hard scrabble story and reveal how a young woman drifted in off the street, ended up married to a much, much older man and bearing him a son, I decided to tackle the other two books again. In preparation.

This time around, I got it. All of it. The reasons writers especially love Marilynne Robinson. The things this woman does with words and ideas, the way she forces the reader to just slooooooow down, savor and ponder every sentence - it is a master class in going deep. These are very spiritual books, they delve into topics of faith and grace and fate, of honoring mothers and fathers and family history. Of being a good neighbor and a good steward of gifts. 

They are not books to read when you’re waiting in the doctor’s office. They are not books to read while lying on the beach.

They seem best read in a quiet room while the fireplace crackles and sputters, with maybe a cup of coffee close at hand. Or sitting on a long front porch overlooking a grassy meadow, while birds sing on the wires and wind shushes through the pines. In a place where you can sit and be still. Where you can read without the distractions of modern life.

Reading all three of these books together is like being baptized in the River Robinson. It’s a total immersion baptism. And I’m coming up refreshed and renewed, just as it should be.

How about you? Do you ever immerse yourself in one writer and read all their books in a row? 
What are you reading this week?

What Saves You?

When I am among the trees, 
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines, 
they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment, 
and never hurry through the world 
but walk slowly, and bow often. 
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,”
they say, “and you, too, have come
into the world to do this, to go easy,
to be filled with light, and to shine.” ~ Mary Oliver

For poet Mary Oliver, the trees - the willows and the honey locust, the beech, the oaks, and the pines - save her. We all need saving from time to time. I know I do. When we are “distant from the hope of ourselves” for whatever reason, we look to our personal sources of encouragement and wisdom to instruct and inspire. Nature is that source for Oliver, as it is for many poets and writers. I’ve been reading Terry Tempest Williams memoir, Refuge, in which she pays homage to her landscape. “Only the land’s mercy and a calm mind can save my soul,” she writes as she drives across the Great Basin. “If the desert is holy, it is because it is a forgotten place that allows us to remember the sacred. Perhaps that is why every pilgrimage to the desert is a pilgrimage to the self. There is no place to hide, and so we are found."

When we write or speak about those things that “save" us, an element of the sacramental creeps in. In the short passage above, Terry Tempest Williams uses the words like holy, sacred, soul, mercy, and pilgrimage, all words we associate with religious experiences. Indeed, the word “save” itself is loaded with religious connotation for those of us who grew up in the Christian tradition. We were raised to believe in the “saving power” of faith in God and Jesus Christ, a gift that was there for the asking through simple grace.

I suspect nature is a saving grace for many people, though most of us don’t have the same facility for description as do the poets and writers who honor it so beautifully, so religiously. Today when I awoke the room was filled with the particular brightness that only sun on new fallen snow can offer. Pristinely white, not yet marred by traffic or footprint, the ground outside was aglitter with trillions of tiny snowflakes etched in ice. I’m not a fan of winter or snow, but even I was struck by the silent, perfect beauty of my view out the window. 

Am I "distant from the hope of myself" these days? Perhaps a little. That particular line in Oliver’s poem always strikes at my heart. It is so poignant. We all have those hopes for ourselves. We want to be more - creative, compassionate, attentive, loving, patient, mindful. We want, as Oliver says, to have “goodness and discernment,” to “never hurry through the world.” We pick and worry at ourselves and our lives, discontent with each minute. But she is right - when I can walk outdoors among the trees or especially along the waterside somewhere, I feel content, fulfilled, peaceful. I feel as if I belong, as if I am enough just as I am.

Saved.

But winter is hard. There is little opportunity for outdoor walking for me, there are no green leafed trees to sough and sigh and sing me their soothing song.  I have to find other saviors, and I am trying to be patient with myself as I search. Sometimes a cup of tea sipped from a beautiful china cup, both dogs curled on the couch next to me, a good book or two close by, some Chopin or Debussy playing softly in the background - sometimes that can save me. Those few minutes are reminders to slow down and savor, to “walk slowly and bow often” to the comforting peace and warmth of my home and the little animals who depend on me. 

Reading and writing - yes, they can save me. The power of words pulls me in, but also sets me free. It lights the way toward what a good life can mean, and connects me to the world and every person in it. 

The end of Mary Oliver’s poem gives us a mandate of sorts, one I try to remember when I most need saving from all the petty grievances I harbor against myself. “It’s simple..You too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine."

On this cold winter day, I hope you find what saves you. May you go easy with it and shine.

TLC Book Review: Christmas at Tiffany's

Christmas at Tiffany's

Christmas at Tiffany’s, Karen Swan

Paperback: 592 pages Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks (October 28, 2014

About the Book:What do you do when the man you pledged your life to breaks your heart and shatters your dreams? You pack your bags and travel the big, wide world to find your destiny—and your true love . . .

Ten years ago, a young and naïve Cassie married her first serious boyfriend, believing he would be with her forever. Now her marriage is in tatters and Cassie has no career or home of her own. Though she feels betrayed and confused, Cassie isn’t giving up. She’s going to take control of her life. But first she has to find out where she belongs . . . and who she wants to be.

Over the course of one year, Cassie leaves her sheltered life in rural Scotland to stay with her best friends living in the most glamorous cities in the world: New York, Paris, and London. Exchanging comfort food and mousy hair for a low-carb diet and a gorgeous new look, Cassie tries each city on for size as she searches for the life she’s meant to have . . . and the man she’s meant to love.

I’ll be honest...I read about 50 pages of this book and put it aside -  but NOT for the reason you think! I put it aside because it’s SO GOOD and it’s just the kind of book I love to read during the holidays. It’s fun, it has great characters that are believable, have a good backstory, and get themselves into interesting situations. It’s fat and juicy, it has a cute cover, and I’m SAVING it for those hustle bustle holiday times when I want and need the perfect book to keep me company in my soft reading chair. This is IT.

And you know I mean it because I’m writing in all capitals- internet shouting in a very good way.

Buy yourself a copy (here!) and put it away as a little Christmas present for YOU. When the cold winds of December howl, when the holiday crowds drive you crazy, when family demands make you nuts, then go home, brew yourself some hot tea or stir up a hot toddy and grab Christmas at Tiffany’s.

I can’t wait to do just that.

About the Author: Karen Swan began her career in fashion journalism before giving it all up to raise her three children and an ADHD puppy, and to pursue her ambition of becoming a writer. She lives in the forest in Sussex, writing her books in a treehouse overlooking the Downs. Her first novel, Players, was published in 2010, followed by Prima Donna and Christmas at Tiffany’s in 2011.

Thanks, TLC Book tours, for the opportunity to enjoy this book! I’m looking forward to it.