Bookstack: The Sunday Salon

Friday afternoon the POD containing all the furniture from our home in Florida arrived at our new home in Northville. Saturday we - along with the help of Eric and Lee, two extremely nice young men who unloaded the POD for us - we arranged furniture and started digging into the boxes that we packed four months ago. It was a little like Christmas, unwrapping all those things, trying to discern by feel what each item was.

“Maybe these are the coffee table vases,” I kept saying, searching for three delicate glass bud vases I had purchased at an Art Fair in Naples. There were sighs of relief (found the vases all intact), surprise (I forgot we packed this!) and remembrance (remember when we bought this?)

Of course there is much left to do, but I’m beginning to see glimpses of the MY house peeking through, the vision I had for this new space.

Today we’ll be going back for more unpacking - making a start on the kitchen boxes today. But I’m planning to take a book with me for a short break of afternoon reading.

The burning question is - what book shall it be?

Because the first book I read in my new house can’t be just any old book. It needs to be something special - something new that I’ve been dying to delve into. Or maybe (and this could be even better) something old - a favorite re-read that always inspires, comforts, sustains.

My new book choices are somewhat slim. The only things sitting in my new TBR pile are The House I Loved, by Tatiana Rosay, which certainly sounds appropriate for the occasion, and How to Be A Woman, by Caitlin Moran.

The To Be Re-Read pile is much larger, and things like TheWhole World Over, by Julia Glass, Bridge of Sighs, by Richard Russo, and The Life of Charlotte Bronte, by Elizabeth Gaskell.

An embarrassment of riches, to be sure.

But one of those will likely be the one I spend a few stolen moments with this Sunday afternoon, here in my new living room at Brookwood Court.

I’ll keep you posted.

How about you? What are you reading this Sunday, and where are you reading it? 

Bookstack: North and South Readalong

It’s been a summer of reading historically, so when Andi announced a readalong of Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel, North and South (first published 1855), I decided to jump right in. I’m familiar with Gaskell’s writing through her very definitive biography of Charlotte Bronte, who was not only Gaskell’s  writing contemporary but a personal friend. The biography led me to read two of her other novels Villette, and Wives and Daughters, both of which I enjoyed.

In all honesty, I sometimes find the nineteenth century writing style a hard go. It definitely takes more attention to read, almost like setting your mind to a math problem to figure out the construct and meaning. Gaskell’s work seems more accessible, as if she already had a foot in the 20th century.

North and South is really interesting to me on several fronts. The basic story centers around the conflict between industrialization and gentrification, specifically the Hale family and daughter Margaret, who leave behind the simple life of their country parsonage to take up residence in the industrial city of Milton, where they interact with the Thornton’s, son John, a wealthy (but “unread” mill owner), his mother and sister.

Of course you can see the romantic possibilities coming a mile away -Margaret sets out abhoring these “shoppy’s”, people who make their living manufacturing and selling goods, rather than engaging in intellectual pursuits. But naturally, she finds herself falling in love with John Thornton, despite his bourgeoise class standing. For his part, he is smitten almost immediately, even though he is appalled at Margaret’s obvious disdain for his lifestyle.

It seems to be a tenent of thinking during this time that people who worked in the manufacturing sector couldn’t be educated or well read, which is a fallacy we’ve carried over into our society as well. From the time you enter school, it seems as if you’re either on the college track or the technical track, and after you’ve learned the basics it’s never the twain shall meet. Why should we be surprised that a carpenter paints landscapes, or a welder writes poetry, or an electrician plays classical guitar?  Or that a novelist rides dirt bikes, a painter goes bowling, or a musician moonlights as a handyman?

There are also some very interesting family dynamics going on in North and South, and these are illustrated especially clearly in this week’s reading (chapters 15-27). Mrs. Hale has been diagnosed with a fatal illness, and her dying wish is that she be able to see her son Frederic one last time. But here’s the rub- Frederic is in hiding from the Royal Navy and if he were to show his face in Britain he would likely be captured and executed. But no matter to Mrs. Hale, she is determined Margaret must write and ask him to come to her. And so Margaret does, giving in to a request that seems utterly selfish. Mr. Hale has also preyed upon Margaret’s strength and good nature. When he decides as a matter of conscience that he must leave the Church of England, give up his living in lovely Hampshire and move the family to Milton, he’s hasn’t the guts to tell his wife of this decision. No, he asks Margaret to do it! And, ever the dutiful daughter, she’s the one who breaks the life-altering news to her mother.

Meanwhile, the romance between Margaret and John Thornton is heating up, although she still won’t admit her feelings for the poor man who makes a fool of himself proposing to her and then get utterly crushed in return. Margaret’s playing fast and loose with the man’s feelings, that’s for sure, and even refers to the fact that he’s her “first specimen,” as in the first industrialist/business owner she’s ever met, so she’s trying to figure out what makes him tick and whether he’s worthy of her time and attention.

Not such nice behavior for a clergyman’s daughter.

But Margaret has so much to learn, sheltered as she has been. I try to overlook some of her bad attitude, and she’s beginning to redeem herself  - with her visits to Bessie, one of the millworkers daughters who dies (presumably of consumption) during this week’s reading, and with her behavior during the strike, where she comes down firmly on the side of fairness to the worker but also comes to a better understanding of  the businessman’s (Thornton’s) need.

Reading this Victorian novel reminds me how much we can learn about history from novels, and what a great tool they are for teaching. I don’t often participate in readalongs, but I’m so glad I decided to join in on this one.

How about you? Have any favorite Victorian authors?

From the Archives: The Power of Place

For the past week, I've been immersed in reading Bridge of Sighs, a novel by Richard Russo.  The novel is set in Thomaston, New York, a small industrial town that finds itself struggling to stay alive during the post WWII era.   Lou (Lucy) Lynch, the novel's protagonist, is doggedly loyal to Thomaston, even though chemical laden river is probably responsible for the cancer which kills his father.   This town, with its clear demarcations of social strata, its racial tensions, its lack of expectation and promise, becomes a focal point not just in the lives of Russo's characters, but in the story itself. Reading this novel has set me thinking about the way our sense of place effects our writing.  Russo also  wrote about small town life in his Pulitzer Prize winning novel Empire Falls, so it's clearly something that preoccupies his writers' mind.  His view is not the idyllic scene made popular by writers like Jan Karon in her Mitford series.  Russo's characters  often seem stuck in place, as if their location were quick sand sucking them under.  They suffer, with their unfulfilled hopes and dreams tied like albatross around their emotional necks.

Writer's are often advised to write about what you know, and I imagine this refers to locale as well as subject matter.  Certainly it's possible to write effectively about places you're never lived, although to do it well would require much research and surely some personal visits.  But I think we are drawn to write about the places that have touched our hearts, that dwell within us, sometimes more deeply than we even know.  I think we develop a realtionship with the place we live, it's geography, it's society, it's history, and that relationship is reflected in the way we write about place, in the location of our stories, and the environments we imagine.  Our readers will feel this deep relationship, and it will transport them more directly into the setting about which we write.

I lived my entire life in the midwest, in the suburbs of Detroit, surrounded by working class people who live comfortably, but don't have a great deal of "extras."   Although my physical roots are here in the midwest, I also have spiritual roots, places that seem to call to me even though I've never spent much physical time in them.  The American south, home to my maternal ancestors, holds a great fascination for me, and I occasionally feel a surprising longing to be amidst the great Smoky Mountains, or wander barefoot through cool Kentucky bluegrass.  And the three weeks I spent traveling in the South of England, staying in little towns scattered throughout Kent and Sussex, felt oddly comfortable, as if I were returning to a place I'd once lived rather than visiting a foreign country for the first time.

It makes me wonder if our spirits have a memory, if the places we've come from over time become engrained in souls.  Toni Morrison wrote, "You know they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage.  Occasionally the river floods these places.  "Floods" is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding, it is remembering.  Remembering where it used to be.  Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place."

In her book, Writing Begins With the Breath, Larainne Herring asks "What does your piece of the earth talk about? What stories are hidden in the houses? The unpaved streets? The rusted mailboxes? You don't have to travel the world to find your landscape.  You've grown up in one, and whether you connect with it or know without a doubt you're in the wrong place, you're still affected by it.  We' re all people.  It's the place we're living in that shapes our behavior, attitudes, desires, and activities."

How about you? How does place figure in your writing?  Do you feel comfortable in the place you live, or do you feel at odds with your atmosphere? Do you convey that in your writing?  What stories does your location have to tell?

Write On This:  

"The loss of a place isn't really so different from the loss of a person.  Both disappear without permission, leaving the self diminished, in need of testimony and evidence."   Bridge of Sighs, Richard Russo

Write about a place you've lost....

First Lines

When the lights went off, the accompanist kissed her."  from Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett

The first line of this novel grabbed me immediately...partly because I'm an accompanist myself, and that word doesn't show up in novels very often.  But this sentence immediately created an image in my head - not only an image, but an entire scene is set by those nine words.  You can hear the singer's last note, ringing through the hall, see the lights suddenly go dark, feel the accompanist's excitement as he jumps up from the piano and kisses the performer.

First lines are the way a writer grabs the reader from the get-go.  Go through your favorite novels and read the first lines.  Which ones are the most interesting?  How do they get you involved in the book and make you excited to read more?  Set aside one section of your writer's notebook for favorite first lines.

Now pick one of your favorite first lines and make it your own - write for 10 minutes using this favorite first line as a starting place.

It's All in the Details

My day job requires a great deal of attention to detail - I'm a medical technical writer, and I spend a lot of time studying medical records, organizing and documenting the results of all types of medical procedures.  I've always been rather detail oriented, so my job fits my personality pretty well, and my penchant for describing minutiae stands me in good stead at my office.   However, I'd much rather spend my time observing the details of the world around me and writing about them.  After all, to quote a favorite children's poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, "the world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings."   As the first days of autumn approach, my senses are piqued by the sweet aroma of grasses drying in the sun and ripening apples on the old trees in my orchard.  I pull on a sweater when I get up in the morning, and smile at the way the dogs' warm breath makes little clouds of fog in the chilly air when I open the back door.  Sometimes I feel as if I could write entire stories about the way autumn makes me feel, or the sensation that rises from hearing a marvelous pianist play Chopin on stage in front of me. 

I love novels that are rich in detail - that describe the character's movements and outfits and the way they hold their fork or brush their teeth.  And I love poetry that is grounded in the reality of everyday things, but which is able to elevate those things to a spiritual status, use them as doorways into our deeper feelings.  (Mary Oliver does this so well, as does Jane Kenyon, Billy Collins, and Robert Frost.)  In my own writing, I try to pay close attention to the telling details of conversation, of place, of activity, of emotion.  These are the things that transport me into the story, bringing it alive for me as I write, and hopefully for the reader as well.

Because I'm an optimist, I like to dwell on positive details...but negative details can certainly be used to advantage in writing as well.  The particular odor that assailed my nostrils each time I walked into the nursing home where my grandmother spent her last days conjures up all kinds of memories and emotions.  As does the smell of iodine in the dark stairwell leading up to the second floor of an old office building where my childhood physician's office was located.  Or the sound of an ambulance siren, screaming down the street, recalls the panic I felt when I was being taken to the hospital after suffering a severe reaction to an insect bite.  Entire stories can grow from those kinds of detailed memories and experiences.

It's all in the details, says the old saying.  While I spend my office hours knee deep in medical terminology and statistics, when I walk out the door I love to let my imagination roam free, my mind's eye feasting on all the details of the world around me.

How about you?  Are you detail oriented in your writing?  What are some of the details you most notice in the world around you?  What details do you focus on in your writing - place, character, emotional?  What are the kinds of detailed descriptions you most like to read about? 

Write On Wednesday Extra Credit: As you perform a household chore that you do on a regular basis - making coffee, washing the car, cutting the grass - notice every detail of the process. The smell of the coffee grounds as you spoon them into the filter, the hiss of the water as it splashes against the car, the rumbling of the lawnmower's engine.  Write about your experience in great detail.