This is the second year I’ve tracked my reading. I tend to read several books at one time. Last year I read a lot of mediocre books, but I also found a lot of stunning books that have led me to other writers or ideas that continue to shape me. Here are my June books:
The Namesake – Jhumpa Lahiri
I did not think this book particularly brilliant or life-changing, but it’s well-written and gives a voice to a group of people I should get to know. The main character is named after Gogol, and I’m sucker for Russian literature.
The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion
What is there to say? Her memoir chronicles her husband’s death and its aftermath, all while her only daughter struggled with severe health problems.
Nancy Drew The Stranger in the Shadows - Carolyn Keene
Because sometimes I like the younger audience’s books.
Self-Help – Lorrie Moore
One of my favorite writers. I’ve read a bunch of her stories, but had yet to read this one cover to cover. Her words are so precise and clever and simply amazing. Her writing might not suit some, so if you like a more traditional narrative, try Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?
To end with a quote from Moore that informs my own writing:
“… awkwardness is where tension is, and tension is where the story is. It’s also where the comedy is, which I’m interested in; when it resolves it tends to resolve toward melancholy, a certain resignation, which I find interesting as well.”
A Thankful Heart
Happy Independence Day!
I wonder how thankful we actually are to live in the U.S. To generalize, we complain and criticize by default. President Bush and the government can do no right. Change, change, change. All you need is change (funny, the Beatles said it was love in 1967, not to imply that the 1960s did not know change).
Of course we should challenge our leaders and society; we should not sit idly while wrong actions take place. But do we take a breath during our rants to pause and give thanks?
These thoughts are nothing new. I’m not the first to utter them. Though, lately I’ve been thinking about my own complaints. Some days it seems all I do is complain. I am not proud of my critical nature.
If we live in the land of opportunity, I am quick to settle, fast to conclude that this is as good as it gets and it’s not fair. Frankly, my complaints weary me. It’s time for a change. I don’t want to decide that something is impossible until I’ve tried. Although I fear failure, I want to live a life that faces it full speed.
So we’re embarking on a risky path. No longer can I pretend that I don’t know what I want to do with my life. No longer will I ignore the enormous desire that only God could have placed within me. Perhaps I’ll acquaint myself with failure or become good friends. But if I have the freedom to try, it seems sinful not to.