teapot1

teapot1

Friday, January 3, 2014


 
My Book Year 2013
 



In 2013 I read thirty-four books, not bad considering that one of them was War and Peace, which took me almost two months.

A word about the above. As an English major and lover of nineteenth-century literature, I’ve always been embarrassed/guilty to say that I had never read Tolstoy’s masterpiece, widely considered the greatest novel of all time. So I decided this was the year. I bought a paperback copy of the latest translation, complete with notes, list of characters, list of historical personages—everything I thought I’d need as a first-time reader. I immersed myself in it for about seven weeks.

I have to confess that I was underwhelmed. I kept waiting for that “kick,” that moment when I knew this was a GREAT book, something that compelled me back to it, that gave me an unforgettable experience. And I never found it. Too many very long battle scenes, characters not as luminous as imagined they would be. Interesting history, as I hadn’t known much about the Napoleonic wars, especially in Russia. But I was not very impressed with the translation. The translators made a point of stating, in the introduction, that they had been as true as possible to Tolstoy’s style, including his use of repetition—but I found myself wishing they’d followed other translators and varied the language more! I kept thinking of the old “Cheers” episode when Diane and her ex-boyfriend are raving about W&P. Sam, jealous, forces himself to slog through the book to impress Diane, then at the end finds out there’s a MOVIE!

But at least now I can say I read it. On to what I really did enjoy in 2013.

This isn’t a list of the best books of the year; just the best ones I read in 2013. I only read a few that were actually published during the past year. Some are from recent years, others are much older, but all were outstanding and well worth reading. (They’re given in the order in which I read them, not in ranked order.)

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. This psychological masterpiece examines the mind of a young student who believes that the “superior man” is above ordinary morality, and to prove that he murders an old pawnbroker and (unintentionally) her sister. But guilt racks Raskolnikov in spite of his philosophy. It has the best elements of classic thrillers, including a wonderful cat-and-mouse game with a canny detective.

Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. A love story in the claustrophobic setting of a snowbound small town and farmhouse. Intense, with a chilling (no pun) ending.

Three Novellas: The Leaf Storm, Nobody Writes to the Colonel, Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Three of his best novellas; the final was my favorite, a story about how good people almost unwittingly allow evil to happen within their midst though it could have been stopped at any of a number of moments.

As Nature Made Him by John Colapinto. This is the disturbing and infuriating nonfiction story of a boy who in a botched operation as an infant loses his genitals; doctors advise his parents to raise him as a girl. But the child suffers through a wretched childhood and adolescence before learning the truth. The hardest part to read about is the doctor, a well-known "sexologist" who might well be a character in a horror novel, a man with some very odd ideas about children, gender, and sex who tests his theories with real children.

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. My best book of the year. I had to read this after finishing the previous book on this list. Eugenides’ protagonist is an “intersex,” a girl who never really identifies as female and who carries a stunted set of male genitals that never developed. This material could easily be exploitive in a lesser writer’s hands, but Eugenides’ compassion and generosity toward all his characters makes it transforming and beautiful.

An Experiment in Love by Hilary Mantel. After having loved Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies last year, I was eager to read Mantel’s earlier work. Radically different from her latest two but still showing the deft hand of a master, this tells the story of a girl and her problematic relationship with a schoolmate who pretty much attaches herself to the reluctant narrator from childhood well into young adulthood. The schoolmate, Karina, is a fascinating character in the way that psychopaths are—but is she one? We’re never really sure, even at the end.

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. Another one that’s been on my list for years. Along with the famous title story, the book incorporates a collection of stories revolving around Vietnam and featuring mostly the same characters, and comes across as an amalgamation of fiction and reality.
 
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. My second reading of this, first since college. I didn’t remember very much of it. Although I wouldn’t call it one of my all-time favorites, it’s great reading, and Austen’s characterizations and dialogue are sharp and witty, as of course are her observations of English class life. I loved the character of Mr. Bennet.

Winner of the National Book Award (yes, this is the title) and The Writing Class by Jincy Willett. I just discovered Willett’s writing this year, and I love it. She’s bitingly funny but also profound and touching. The first is the story of twin sisters, one a librarian who’s more comfortable with books than people, although she’s outspoken and dry witted; the other is the outgoing type, continually involving herself in one dysfunctional relationship after another. There is nothing cliched in Willett’s writing or in her characters; the book is both comic and psychologically gripping. The Writing Class is her version of a murder mystery with liberal doses of humor, starring a rather cranky ex-writer who’s now teaching extension classes and the motley group of students who nevertheless coalesce over the course of the novel and bring out the humanity in their teacher as they bond with each other when one of their classmates is killed.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. I had resisted reading this for the first couple of years, even though for some reason it intrigued me; I’m not a thriller/mystery fan, so I kept wondering whether it was worth investing my time in. I eventually borrowed it from a friend and was really pleasantly surprised. It was very well written (my top criterion) to begin with, and I found myself fascinated by the interlocking stories of (supposedy) no-account Nick and perfect wife Amy. I’ve heard a lot of complaints about the ending, but in my mind, though a little jarring, I think it fit quite well—and I don’t believe the story was really over when it was over.

Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott. Lamott’s essays dealing with the development of her faith are hilarious, moving, and inspiring. She recounts her trials as a single mother, her sudden awakening to religious belief in adolescence, and the deaths of several important people in her life, and reading her is like talking with a treasured friend. You come away from this book wishing you knew her and just being glad that she’s in the world.

Finally, the most exciting book I read this year: Left  by Tamar Ossowski, who was a classmate of mine in an online writing course several years ago. During and after the course, she, I, and one or two others continued “meeting” online to work on our novels; this was Tamar’s, and I knew it was special. I was thrilled to see it published this year. It’s a very moving story of two sisters, one of whom is autistic, and what happens when their mother leaves one of them behind and flees with the other.

Now, onward to the books that await me in 2014! I’ve already started The Goldfinch, and I suspect that will make my best list for next year.

Happy reading!!

Wednesday, January 1, 2014




One Word for 2014: Progress

Once again this year I’m marking my “blogiversary” (number two!) by participating in the One-Word Challenge offered by Melanie at Only a Breath.

Last year I chose the word renewal for a number of reasons that you can read about here.   

This year I feel that I’ve accomplished that goal, if not everything I had planned to do during the year. I am beginning 2014 renewed, refreshed, and ready for a productive new year.

 In that spirit I’ve chosen one word in anticipation of the coming year:

 

 Progress, either as a noun or a verb.

This year I am ready to and want to move ahead with my life.

I'm going to be a bit more cautious, though, and not try to stake out too many divergent roads.

So for my purposes this year, I’m defining “progress” in terms of writing. Time passes, and we need to choose what we do with it, and I think it’s time for me to take this whole thing seriously.

Last year I took three writing courses. I made a few submissions to publications and contests and was thrilled to have a short-short story accepted by the journal The Quotable, which should be appearing in February (something to look forward to!).
 
In two of the courses I took, I worked on another short story, and I ended the year by submitting that one to a contest for new writers (that is, unpublished in a large-circulation print journal) in Glimmer Train. I’m not getting my hopes up; I have three other “backups” at present to submit it to.
 
Another story I've been working on is just about ready, and I hope to submit it soon.

And there's my long-neglected novel. Last year I stated right here that I wanted to have my second draft finished by my birthday in September.
 
That didn’t happen.
 
However, I have some time off now at the end of this year, and I’ve already begun looking over the manuscript again and organizing my files. I was inspired this year when I learned that a former writing classmate had had her novel published, one that I had helped her work on in a private writing group. Now I think: if she can do it, so can I!
 
So my first intermediate goal is, during this “down time” from work, to get to work on the novel again and try to start a writing habit that I’ll be able to keep up when work projects begin to come in again.

As a former writing teacher said, Onward!!

Do you have one word you can designate as your goal for 2014? Visit Melanie’s page to learn how to get a button!

 

Monday, December 30, 2013





Gratitude List: December 30, 2013

 

As the year ends, I’m linking up again with Laurel Regan’s Gratitude List at her wonderful blog, Alphabet Salad , to share a few things (large and small) that I’m grateful for right now in my life.

 


●  Getting an email from my cousin in South Carolina, who’s been fighting cancer, telling me that she’s doing well, regaining weight, and feeling normal again.

●  Not having another work project coming in till the second week in January—having precious time off!!!

●  The smell of pine filling the house from the Christmas tree.
 
 

●  Getting eight books for Christmas, plus two Barnes & Noble gift cards! I’ll be busy for a while.

●  People in our neighborhood who, like us, leave their lights on and their trees up until well after New Year’s.

●  Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime tea, Bigelow French Vanilla tea—just TEA!

●  With no immediate family left, having a great extended family and wonderful in-laws on both my side and my husband’s.

●  Having survived the losses of my brother and mother over the past five years, being caregiver for my mother for two years, and now being settled back in our own home; having had a relatively stable and peaceful 2013, I feel that I’ve accomplished my goal of “renewal” and am now looking forward to a good and productive new year.
 
I hope all of you have many things to be grateful for at this moment. Share them at Laurel's blog!
 
 
 

Monday, December 9, 2013


 

 

My Gratitude List for December 9, 2013

 

This post is a linkup with Laurel Regan’s Gratitude List at her wonderful blog, Alphabet Salad. Join us and share what you’re grateful for on this day, this moment.
 
Here is my list for today.

 
▪ Receiving a Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award nomination from Laurel Regan at Alphabet Salad—thanks so much, Laurel!

 
 
▪  Learning that a flash fiction story of mine will be published in the literary magazine The Quotable (this actually happened last month, but I’m still grateful).

 
▪  Having a warm, comfortable home as winter is coming on.

 
▪  Being able to share my good fortune with others who have less through our church’s wonderful “embrace a family” program.

 
▪  Living in a small city in a small state that nevertheless offers an abundance of cultural treasures: several theater companies, small-concert as well as major venues; art-film cinemas; art galleries; and many more.

 
▪ Having thriving small businesses—restaurants, shops—within blocks of our home.

 
▪ Being able to get back to crocheting and resume working on my many unfinished projects.

 
▪  At this time of year, seeing the bright colored lights begin to come on in homes and yards all through the neighborhood.

 

What are you grateful for in your life right now?
 

Monday, October 28, 2013


My Gratitude List  (October 28, 2013)

Thanks to Laurel at Alphabet Salad for originating the idea of the Gratitude List and creating a link-up! Visit her and join in, sharing what you're grateful for at this moment in time.

My list today:

● The bright gold foliage outside my window, with the sun shining through it

● The Red Sox in the World Series

● Being nearly finished with my huge project—and having another one waiting for me

● Having the week’s food shopping done and menus planned for the week

● Living in a city and a neighborhood where it’s easy to walk so many places

● My dog sleeping on the bed down the hall

● The “undo” key in Word; I’d be lost without it!

● And always: my wonderful husband, the best part of my life!

 

Sunday, October 20, 2013

I am inspired again this weekend to post 33 words for Trifecta. The challenge this time:

"Katherine Paterson, author of Bridge to Terabithia, wrote, “It's like the smarter you are, the more things can scare you.”  We are looking for a 33-word explanation of what scares you (or your character)."
 
 
 
The Long, Slow Amnesia
 My mother’s puzzled frightened eyes, searching for sense.
“Are you my sister or my daughter?” she asks me.
No terror can match hers, but mine is right there beside it, holding its hand.
 
 
 

Sunday, October 6, 2013


 

A Sixty-Plus Takes Up Belly Dancing

 
There are a few things you need to know about me. The first thing is that I am a serious klutz. I get bruises everywhere from bumping into things. Objects hide when they see me coming. My balance is tentative at best, precarious at worst, even when I’m only walking in a (semi)straight line. Last year I tripped over my dog and woke up in an ambulance with a concussion. This year I tripped on uneven concrete while running and ended up splayed on the sidewalk.

The second thing is that in my twenties, just after college, I took a modern dance class. I came down from a hop the wrong way and broke a bone in my foot; I was on crutches for a month.

The third thing is that I turned sixty-three years old last month. I’m not beautiful, not slender, not (see above) graceful. Nor athletic. I’m not Little Egypt (anyone remember her?) or Shakira.
 
Little EgyptShakira
 
 
 

With all this history, then, why would I sign up for a belly dancing class?

That was the question I kept asking myself for months, after an article in our local paper stirred up my latent dreams of myself as sylph-like and sensuous. Belly dancing had never been on my bucket list; in fact, the thought itself would have made me embarrassed and feel ridiculous in view of my aforementioned deficits.

But this article called it wonderful exercise “for all ages.” That got my attention. Then there were photos of a couple of local teachers and classes waving their arms, scarves (scarves!) floating from hands and tied around waists, jingling with coins. How lovely, romantic, graceful it looked!



And this was also exercise! Good for you!

My enthusiasm suddenly caught fire. I’m an occasional runner, but it’s hard for me, and I have to really motivate myself. This sounded like automatic motivation. I’m also a class nerd; show me a class that sounds interesting and I’ll sign up.

Since I lost my mom last year after several years of caregiving, I’ve been feeling the need to expand my world a little more. Maybe losing your last parent does this, makes you feel the years shrinking ahead of you. I knew I didn’t want my world shrinking as I age. I want to try to keep expanding it, keep learning, finding new interests.

So I found a class being offered through a local adult-learning organization. It was several months before it started, which gave me time to think about it, wonder, waffle a lot. Sometimes too much time to think can be dangerous. (Would I just be making a fool of myself?) Finally, a week before the class began, I decided to take the plunge.
 
 
We started in the middle of a July heat wave. No one had told us what to wear. I went for the least confining things I had: a white tank top and gray yoga pants. The seven-minute drive there was hot, but the studio nice and cool. I was relieved to see at least one other woman around my age. Her daughter was a belly dancer, and she already had a hip scarf. I was envious.

 Hip scarf



It surprised me how comfortable I felt. This was so different for me, yet I was excited, eager to start. The instructor asked us a little about ourselves, and I told my story of the broken foot to let her know not to expect too much. But for once it wasn’t a defensive move. I honestly didn’t care how clumsy I looked; this would be fun!

She began to show us basic moves, and the six of us tried our best to follow, but she was so graceful, moved so sinuously, that our own images in the mirrors made us look like Bigfoot by comparison.

Nevertheless, I kept reminding myself that I wasn’t doing this to become a dancer.

Through the following weeks we practiced new ways of moving: our hips, our chests,  in circles, up and down, in figure eights. Our muscles, our joints, stretched, contracted, in ways they never had before. We realized exactly how stiff we were—even the younger women among us. We practiced steps and found out how difficult it really is to move across the floor in a certain pattern of steps while raising, lowering, or undulating other parts of your body. My respect for the women who practice this ancient art grew greatly.

At the end of our second lesson the instructor told us, “Usually you have to practice at level 1 for a year or more before you really feel comfortable with the moves.” Ah, maybe I’m not hopeless at all, I thought, already projecting my thoughts farther ahead than I had considered before.

Sure, I thought, I can keep doing this!  

It isn’t easy. But at the end of each lesson I felt good, physically and mentally. And something else happened over the course of six weeks: I began to feel more graceful, whether or not I was. I began to feel the movements inside my body. I felt myself sitting up taller, pulling my stomach in, being aware of how I stepped and how my hips moved, began to stretch more and more deliberately. And I started to feel more feminine. I wanted to wrap things around myself. Shawls. Soft loose jackets. Bracelets. I started wanting to wear makeup again. I saw that the other women had painted toenails, and I wanted to paint mine, too—something I’d never really wanted to do before. Maybe even—someday—get a pedicure!

Ankle coins


Sometimes life outside your comfort zone isn’t so uncomfortable at all.

The next session starts in a few weeks, and I’ll be there.

Maybe I’ll even buy myself a hip scarf.