The Books I Read
Dealing with second thoughts on my reading choices
I got to spend nearly a week in Canmore, Alberta. It’s just outside of Banff and gorgeous. We have very generous friends who let us hang out at their place and just love every minute every time. There was skiing, including a 30cm powder day that was for the books!
Canmore also has an awesome bookshop called Cafe Books, which I love because they also have a solid used book section and there’s nothing I like better than finding a used book that’s on my potentially infinite list of books I’m interested in but cannot get my hands on. My friend Jaima did a book signing and if you aren’t reading the books she’s cowritten with her buddy Regina, then you’re just missing out. They write: historical fiction, women in medicine, London, Milan in their first two and now France and a female spy and WWII. Also, it’s all based on true stories, so get thee to the shops or library and check out Audrey Blake books!
But me and the weird books. I’ve always felt uncomfortable about this and am dealing with myself a bit at the moment. The first reading list I loved came from my high school English teacher, was probably 25 pages long single-spaced, and it’s in a special binder and I occasionally get to mark off a new title. Then in my 20s, I discovered the Booker Prize and that I tended to like or at least find interesting just about anything on their short list. Now I find myself chasing down books by Taiwanese authors and creative non-fiction that just isn’t always in the library, not even one as big as Edmonton’s.
What’s the problem? I thought of these as my “snobby” reads for a long time. It’s something other people put on me or that I took on from other people. It doesn’t make sense since the main thing I would tell anyone who wants to read more would be to read whatever you love, no matter what anyone says! But these voices sit in the head and ask, “what are you trying to prove?” “Why can’t you just read normal books like everyone else?”
So why am I giving myself a hard time? Good question. A lot of it will have to do with being tired of never fitting in. Good old childhood baggage. Wanting to understand the things groups of people have in common and participate in that shared knowledge and friendship and feeling of doing the right thing.
It’s probably also in part because I stand on the sidelines of a lot of book conversations where people enthusiastically talk about particular series or authors or genres and they all go over my head. I just don’t read much if anything in that direction. And if you ask me what I’ve been reading, it likely won’t be familiar. On the other hand, if you have heard of it, we’ll probably decide to be great friends.
Case in point, remember how excited I was to find Yoko Ono’s (performance art) book Grapefruit? Or that the last book I finished was Unearthing by Kyo Maclear, a gorgeous piece of memoir writing that grabbed me at a dozen turns. These books aren’t going to attract as many readers as others, but they grab me and leave me wanting more.
So this week, as I’ve worked on my morning pages, I’ve been looking over at the pile of books on my desk and trying to accept that this is who I am as a reader. This sounds weird even to me. But it’s part of learning to live like a writer. My job these days is to feed my brain, my soul, my heart, with the things that help it create, that stoke that little flame and make it burn brighter and higher.
That’s your responsibility, too. To go find the little weird or quirky or super mainstream thing that gets you excited. The thing you’re going to spend your time with no matter whether the person next to you is interested in it or not, the thing that you think everyone should be excited about. Just jump in, I’m working on it. At least up to my shins by now. And if you know what that is - tell me! I would love to know what interests you!
A few things that have caught my eye lately:
I’m obsessed with the Duolingo owl’s sad face. Like, if I ignore him for a couple more days, will he cry? I do not think this is the reason they made him so sad. Also, I might be an app icon sadist.
When art crosses lines between kids crafts and engineering, you might get En Cascade by Pinaffo & Pluvinage, a sand powered cardboard and construction paper art in motion that invites interaction and wonder. I particular love the way it toys with my emotions giving me both the “hey, I could do that, it’s cardboard” feeling along with the “holy cow, they’re geniuses” vibe. Reminds me of Swiss artist Tinguely’s wacky creations, like his Basel water fountains. Got this one via the It’s Nice That newsletter, which is, well, nice.
One day, if I keep working, I might be able to write like Luke Reiter.
It occurs to me that a certain platform’s name change to “X” is going down just about as well as “The Artist Formerly Known As” but without the benefit of Party Like it’s 1999.
Read this note from Austin Kleon on how he keeps track of quotes and then asked my writing friends if they want to go in on a box of 500 library pockets for the back of books with me. Fingers crossed they say yes! Follow up here - one said no a laugh and the others stayed silent. Should I ask them again?!
We recently got a TV for the first time and I’m on a mission to collect used DVDs of movies that are hard to find on streaming services. So far, the kids have enjoyed Spaceballs, The Fifth Element, and Look Who’s Talking. Then Austin Kleon posted a link to this article about folks who are collecting DVDs and I think I found my people.
I set a goal to write 10 hours a week and am using Toggl to track my progress. It isn’t impressive yet, but I think their UX is much improved over when I started freelancing.
Reading some great creative non-fiction out this year and came across This story about Orcas and Taiwan in Outing. Grace Loh Prasad’s story, The Orca and the Spider: On Motherhood, Loss, and Community about how she learned to build a family without a family network where she lived and how she came to appreciate the network she didn’t think about in Taiwan was moving and personal.