I know I was going to start posting every two weeks about what I was reading over the summer, but, frankly, I didn’t read much of anything the first fortnight of July. The Knitting World Cup took up the beginning of the month (I’m not as talented as my grandmother who claims she used to knit and read simultaneously) and then it took a while for me to settle into something that I liked enough to finish. (This is particularly bad news for Democracy in America, which I’m supposed to read by the end of August. I’m in the introduction and am already grumpy.)
But in the end I managed four books in the last two weeks of the month:
The Pursuit of Happyness, by Chris Gardner with Quincy Troupe From the book jacket: “At the age of twenty, Milwaukee native Chris Gardner, just out of the navy, arrived in San Francisco to pursue a promising career in medicine. Yet he surprised everyone and himself by setting his sights on the competitive world of high finance. But no sooner had he landed an entry-level position at a prestigious firm, Gardner found himself caught in a web of incredibly challenging circumstances that left him homeless with his toddler son. Instead of giving in to despair, the two spent almost a yera moving among shelters, ‘HO-tels,’ and soup lines, even sleeping in the public restroom of a subway station — ultimately making an astonishing transformation from the bathroom to the boardroom.” Why this book? It was sitting on top of a pile of unread books, and the introduction kept me reading long enough to make me want to know more. My take: I picked this up as an advance reader’s edition so it is possible that there has been some further editing since I looked the story over. But given how far along the book was, my guess is that the major copy work had already been done by that time. It’s too bad. Gardner and his ghost writer need an editor with a firm hand who is able to restructure the story slightly so that it’s less stream of consciousness memoir and more chronologically ordered. It’s frustrating to have an event alluded to in one place and then to have it referred to again in slightly different (but not much) detail later on.
That said, one can’t help but admire Gardner’s chutzpah, focus, and devotion to his son. His mother told him he could do anything he wanted to (despite her inability to remove her family from an abusive relationship) and he believed her, translating the risks of his rocky childhood into a profitable career in investing. And his own lack of a present father as a boy made him utterly determined to be there for his son.
[The seemingly misspelled title actually refers to a real-life misspelled daycare center Gardner strove to earn enough to enroll his son in.]
The book is going to be made into a movie by Will Smith, so if you like to read books before you see the movie, pick this one up. Pages: 302
The Silver Chair, by C.S. Lewis From the book jacket: “How captive Prince Rilian escaped from the Emerald Witch’s underground kingdom.” Why this book? This book may (or may not) mark the final book in the Narnian series I read as a child. But I’m going to read all seven this time around. My take: The books are getting less and less satisfying as I go along. I like Eustace and Jane and their Narnian guardian, Puddleglum, but Lewis’ narrator inserts himself into the story more and more with commentaries that have not held up to the test of time. The narrator’s views of women, co-education, and modern education are antiquated and annoying and it requires a constant internal commentary of “It was written in the ’20s” to get past it to focus on the story. Pages: 217
The 13 Clocks, by James Thurber From the book jacket: “How can anyone describe this book? It isn’t a parable, a fairy story, or a poem, but rather a mixture of all three. It is beautiful and it is comic. It is philosophical and it is cheery. What we suppose we are trying fumblingly to say is, in a word, that it is Thurber. There are only a few reasons why everybody has always wanted to read this kind of story, but they are basic: Everybody has always wanted to love a Princess. Everybody has always wanted to be a Prince. Everybody has always wanted the wicked Duke to be punished. Everybody has always wanted to live happily ever after. Too little of this kind of thing is going on in the world today. But all of it is going on valorously in The 13 Clocks.” Why this book? I wasn’t planning to reread this present from Karen right now, but I was pulling out books for a minor research project, happened upon it, and knew immediately that my life was in need of a little Thurber. My take: If you have never read Thurber, head right out to the library and pick up one of his books. He writes and illustrates his own works, and they are whimsical and funny and sweet all at once. You can space the story out or you can read it in one brief sitting.
And I enjoyed the re-read sufficiently that the next time I am at the library, I’m going to check out one of his other books or, maybe, one of the collections of his correspondence. Pages: 124
Running with Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs From the book jacket: “Running with Scissors is the true story of a boy whose mother (a poet with delusions of Anne Sexton) gave him away to be raised by her psychiatrist, a dead ringer for Santa and a lunatic in the bargain. Suddenly, at age twelve, Augusten Burroughs found himself living in a dilapidated Victorian in perfect squalor. The doctor’s bizarre family, a few patients, and a pedophile living in the backyard shed completed the tableau. Here, there were no rules; there was no school. The Christmas tree stayed up until summer, and Valium was eaten like Pez. And when things got dull, there was always the vintage electroshock-therapy machine under the stairs….” Why this book? We saw a preview of the upcoming film adaptation before The Devil Wears Prada, and Amani and I wanted to read the book before we saw the show. (Thanks to Sarah, who lent us both her copy of the book.) My take: This book intrigued me when it came out, but I hadn’t gotten around to reading it until now. It’s really one of those truth-is-stranger-than-fiction kinds of stories. If it weren’t true, no one would believe it as a novel. (Burroughs has been sued for defamation by the psychiatrist’s family for exaggerating the story, so maybe I’ll have to eat my words.)
But either way, the characters are strongly written and thoroughly messed up down to the last one. If it is true, Burroughs deserves major kudos for surviving. If it’s fiction, he deserves major credit for his imagination.
I’m definitely looking forward to the movie. Pages: 304
I felt kind bad yesterday because my travels took me no further than the mailbox. I sat inside and read and knit and watched tv. I felt a bit like a sloth.
But, I reasoned, I’d make up for it today.
Until I went to the farmers’ market. It took merely 30 minutes for me to be soaked to the skin. At which point I gratefully retreated back to the Burrow and our new air conditioner.
But maybe it’s okay to lay low this weekend. We do, after all, have a busy week ahead of us:
Monday we’re headed to a sneak preview of a movie.
Tuesday Rudi has his weekly bike ride and I have my volunteer gig as a knitting tutor.
Wednesday we head north to New York City on an early train to spend the day bumming around the city with friends before hearing John Irving, Stephen King, and J.K. Rowling discuss their craft.
Thursday we do more sightseeing and friend-visiting and return home.
So, yeah, I guess it was a good idea to rest up this weekend…
Category: dc life,travel. There is/are Comments Off.
If you’re up in what the East Coast considers the middle of the night (Saturday into Sunday) and you’re checking my blog, please consider heading over to keep Kat or Jen company. They’re blogging for 24 hours straight to raise money for charity. I’m not asking you to sponsor them (although certainly you can if you want), but if you ever wrote a paper during college and found yourself up and alone in the wee hours of the night, you know how alone and miserable you feel — and how tempting that bed (or couch or floor…) looks (just for five minutes, of course!).
I think I’ve said it before, but I love my landlord. When we flooded out, he offered to replace anything that was destroyed or to pay for the cleaning of anything that required professional cleaning. He’s never raised our rent, despite the fact that our posh location could easily garner a couple hundred more bucks a month in this real estate market.
And today he sent over a brand-new replacement A/C unit with the handyman because ours had died.
Yes, we live in a basement unit in a city built on a swamp, and the dehumidifying aspects of the A/C does help to keep things drier than they would be otherwise. But I have to think that most landlords are going to tell you to buy your own replacement if your window unit goes belly up.
Particularly a fancy one with a timer and a remote control.
Last month, our friends ECN and Eri journeyed to Europe. ECN is blogging their travels with journal entries and amazing photography at The History of Western Civilization Tour.
Take a look at his photos and try to stay away from airline websites. You’ll want to book the next flight over. Seriously, ECN, you are that talented.
Three beautiful things from our time on the road last week:
1. I took knitting on vacation with me. (This is not surprising; I take knitting everywhere, almost.) I packed Rudi’s sock, which I didn’t work on much because damp or sweaty hands do not encourage the easy flow of narrow-guage yarn, and I packed some cotton my friend Cynthia had sent me to make dishcloths with. Dasch and Reesie watched me knit for a while, and then Reesie asked if she could try. “Sure,” I said. “You work the yarn and I’ll hold the needles.” And sure enough we knit a whole row together like that. Then Dasch asked if he could try. And he did, but then he got bored and wanted us to switch and for him to work the needles and me to work the yarn. “Okay.” I showed him how and off we went. But then there were marshmallows to roast and s’mores to make and yarn was abandoned for loftier pursuits (by me as well as them). Next year, though, I’m breaking the yarn and needles out early.
2. There is nothing like having little kids sidle up to you and want to sit on your lap or snuggle with you on a blanket. Dasch, Reesie, and their new friend Aveeva all wanted some lap time over the weekend. And a couple of times I ended up on the blanket late at night with a sleepy child dozing off in my lap. There’s no nicer feeling in the whole wide world.
3. We arrived at Turkey Ridge after the folk festival ended to discover two new residents had moved into the family homestead. Callie and Chloe are two pint-sized, nine-week-old fluff balls. They’re a little skittish around people yet, as they’ve only been part of the family for a week. They run and jump and play nonstop until they crawl under something to sleep for 10 hours, causing mild alarm and panic about where they’ve disappeared to. They’re still at that age when their purrers are more developed than their tiny, palm-sized selves and when they consent to sit with you for a few minutes, their motors run full-speed.
Sarah organized a party tonight so a bunch of us could get together to knit and eat dessert and see our friend Grace who no longer works with us and who is seven months pregnant.
Sarah made salad and pizza so there was a base layer upon which to lay the dessert. Yum!
Amani made indoor s’mores which involved Golden Grahams, mini marshmallows, and gobs and gobs of chocolate. Suzanne made cakey chocolate cookies. Sarah made peach cobbler and fondue. I made chocolate cream puffs. We were very stuffed.
Suzanne taught Amani how to knit. Suzanne is a patient teacher and Amani is a quick student. Hurray for converting the friends!
Grace is nearly halfway done with a baby blanket that she started less than two weeks ago. Crazy pregnant lady! She also looks adorable and hip with her baby bump.
Sarah has a darling and gigantic apartment in Adams Morgan with a view of the Washington Monument. She has a deck with a breeze. She has a roommate with Fraggle Rock dvds. She rocks — as does he. And maybe we’ll all move into her house the next time she invites us over. They can fit another three people, right?
It really was a great night. One of the best I’ve spent in D.C. in a long time.
It’s been four years since Dave Carter died and Tracy has shown up every year and every year you sense that while she is still devastated, she is becoming less fragile. This year brought the final cd of their joint work, which they’d begun to record before Dave’s death. Tracy brought Dave’s sister and nephew and niece with her up on stage so they could begin to understand the impact Dave’s songwriting has had on all of us. She also performed “Salisbury Hill,” which I, at least, interpreted to mean that she is able to keep Dave’s spirit with her without him overshadowing her. Could just be my own wishful thinking, though…
Christine is a long-time family favorite with 17 albums to draw from, including such hits as “Mysterious Woman” and “Ballad of a Ballgame.” She is a riot to listen to on an album and worth almost any price of admission to see in person. She crowned a King of Falcon Ridge. She passed out whipped cream to the crowd. She invited all the male performers up on stage to perform the chorus of one of her songs. She was a bundle of endless energy. And that was just her mainstage act! From the workshop stage she passed out her bread recipe. And during the Friday Night Song Swap she sang about how New Yorkers are the politest people in the world.
We discovered Cheryl during one of our first Falcon Ridges and have been in love with her sense of humor ever since. Her sets combine political humor (“Dubya Dubya” and “If It Were up to Me“), sweetly haunting melodies (“Howl at the Moon“), and just plain funny songs (“My Cat’s Birthday” and the apt “Handy House,” which had John Gorka and Christine Lavin out dancing and acting along).
Another early Falcon Ridge gem. They are terrific whether as a solo set or in combination during the Sunday Morning Gospel Wake-Up. They performed a beautifully haunting number at the end of their mainstage act, but the combination of distance (we were up at the campsite) and the overly loud sound system of the dance stage drowned out most of the lyrics, so I’m going to have to poke around to find out what it was. Julie Murphy Wells has been battling breast cancer since last year’s festival, so it was nice to see her out there looking and sounding as strong as ever.
I was unfamiliar with his work prior to his mainstage act Sunday afternoon and was so impressed I bought a cd. His voice reminds me of James Taylor and his songs lean toward the political ballads I grew up on. I’m excited to listen to his brand-new cd.
Comedy folk groups can be a lot of fun. They sing. They poke fun at the genre. They mock themselves. They mock us. And Modern Man did all of that with aplomb. Another cd I’m eager to delve into.
Centered around the vocals of Aoife Donovan, the cello of Rushad Eggleston, Greg Liszt’s banjo (he backed Springsteen on the Seeger session tour), and Corey DiMaurio’s bass, Crooked Still offers their own take on the marriage between folk, pop, and bluegrass. Aoife blew me away two summers ago in a solo set, and their group set last year inspired me to buy their first cd. This year’s follow-up was no disappointment and another cd has been purchased.
Gandalf’s band has performed twice before at FRFF and I’ve never been impressed before with his afternoon sets. Maybe I wasn’t really paying attention, because this time I really enjoyed listening to them. I mean, they make the accordian look like a ton of fun. I didn’t buy any of their cds, but I suspect I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for a southerly swing on their next tour.
The highlight of the 24 performers in the Emerging Artist Showcase, Nadine offered a jazzy, soulful pair of songs in a mini set that actually differentiated her from the crowd. Her cds had sold out by the time I hit the merchandise tent, which I think signals that many others agreed with me. I look forward to watching her career unfold.